youtube writing prompts

waltzing

This work is inspired by a YouTube video posted by oliviaalee, posted December 15, 2020.

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"OW!"

"I'm sorry!" you gasped, a laugh bubbling past your lips as you stepped - again - on the toes of the poor man who had the misfortune of having to dance with you.

The music came to an end, and you managed to dip down in a shallow curtsy, holding back more laughter as you glimpsed the man limping away. Really, your mother needed to stop forcing you to these balls. The local physician always seemed to complain about the uptick in foot injuries the morning after one with your attendance.

The doctor would be out of business, you thought, if I were to stop attending these dastardly balls.

Grabbing a flute of champagne off a passing footman's plate, you leaned against a pillar in the corner of the large ballroom, closing your eyes and letting the lilting music of one, two, and three wash over you.

"Care to dance, my lady?"

Your eyes flew open, landing on the hazel ones of the stranger across from you. You flushed and smiled, rejection accompanying the slight shake of your head.

"Surely you've seen the injurious results my dancing has resulted in, sir," you laughed, gesturing an arm towards a nearby limping gentleman, "and I'd not dare cause yet another."

"It could not surely be your fault," the stranger replied, his lips curving upwards, "If I were the one to ask you, even after witnessing the consequences. The blame would be all mine. My offer still stands- would you care to dance with me?"

Momentarily stunned, you took his outstretched hand as he swept you to the middle of the floor. Your favorite waltz began to play- one you had memorized as a child- and you prepared for the inevitable cry of pain from yet another misstep of your own clumsy legs.

But it never came.

He was a marvelous dancer and a fantastic lead, unlike any of your previous partners. He pushed and pulled, maintaining a safe distance between your feet, as he spun and stepped with you across the floor of the ballroom. The fear of misstep dissipated, and you found yourself euphoric, the music propelling you along as he held your waist and clasped your hand, the smile on his face matching your own.

As you twirled together, oblivious to your mother's gaping face and stares of onlookers, you thought that the doctor had better quite prepare to go out of business. You wouldn't be stepping on any other man's feet anymore.