Home Read What's New Join
My Account Login

Read Our Devotional             2016 Opportunities to be Published             Detailed Navigation

The HOME for Christian writers! The Home for Christian Writers!
The Official Writing Challenge



how it works
submission rules
guidelines for
choosing a level


submit your entry
read current entries
read past entries
challenge winners

Our Daily Devotional HERE
Place it on your site or
receive it daily by email.



how it works   Submit

Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 – Advanced)
Topic: Step(s) (11/29/12)

TITLE: A Waltz in 4/4 Time
By Addie Pleasance


When Bob spoke Jocelyn’s name, it broke a silence of more than two hours. She was startled, and actually looked around for the source of the sound, then flushed at the realization that they spoke so infrequently that she didn’t readily recognize the sound of her husband’s voice. “What?” she said, more snappishly than she’d intended.

Bob said her name again, more softly this time. “Jocelyn. I had an idea.”

She felt as if this might be more important than a suggestion for tomorrow’s dinner, and she put down her knitting. “What is it?”

“I thought maybe you’d like to take a class with me.” Bob looked away from Jocelyn, toward the window, where nothing was happening.

“A class? What kind of class?” Jocelyn hadn’t taken a class in thirty years; algebra sprang to her mind, but that was ridiculous. Surely Bob didn’t intend to go back to high school with her.

“There was this notice…” He picked up a clipping and reached toward her, but the distance between their hands was too great, and he flicked the clipping in her direction. It landed on the sofa cushion next to Jocelyn.

She took it and read, shocked. “Ballroom dancing?” Certain that she must be mistaken, she turned it over to see half an ad for potatoes. Speechless, she looked at Bob’s hopeful face, thinking about his hand on her waist, remembering his touch.

Three days later, they walked shyly into the dance studio. A dozen couples lined the walls, looking nervously at the footsteps stenciled to the floor. Jocelyn glanced at the other couples, relieved that she was neither the oldest nor the chubbiest woman there. The instructor glided to the middle of the room, her hair extravagantly pink, and waltzed with an imaginary partner. When she directed the students to find a set of footprints, Jocelyn and Bob walked silently to a corner of the room.

“Boys, your right hand should be high on her back—girls, your left hand just over his shoulder. Hold your other hands high in the air—like so. Yes? Now you dance, three beats, look at the feet on the floor. Your right foot slides to the right, not so far dear, then your left foot joins it. Easy, yes?”

Jocelyn snorted a bit at boys and girls; none of the couples here had been children for decades. But then she found herself concentrating on myriad things: the steps laid out on the floor, the beat of the music, Bob’s cool and clammy hands, her own feet as they attempted the dance. She started to whisper ONE two three ONE two three, hoping to find a way to connect her movements with the music.

The pink-haired woman continued to call out instructions, moving from couple to couple to adjust the position of their arms or demonstrate the waltz steps. Jocelyn hoped the instructor wouldn’t approach them—she wanted to master this on her own. It was starting to come to her, the music beginning to guide her steps, but just when she felt she was really getting it, she had to stop; Bob was stumbling, laughing at himself. Jocelyn felt a frisson of irritation.

The instructor strode over to them and took Jocelyn’s face in both hands. “You are a natural, my dear!” she said. “Come with me, I will be the boy, we will show them how to do a waltz, yes?” She pulled Jocelyn to the center of the room. The music started again, and Jocelyn started to dance with the teacher, acutely embarrassed.

But it felt lovely, flying around the room. She was a natural, and she wondered why she had never danced before.

Then she saw Bob, over the instructor’s shoulder. He was still in their corner, dancing by himself. He held an invisible woman, but his hands were too low, and his feet were stomping out an impossible 4/4 beat to the waltz music. There was a look of wretched determination on his face.

Jocelyn stopped, causing the instructor to trip and utter something guttural in a foreign language. She watched Bob for a few seconds while he stepped woodenly on the stenciled floor. A word flooded her consciousness: dear. Bob was a dear man, a shy and clumsy man, a sincere and unassuming man.

Bob looked up to see Jocelyn walking toward him, her arms open in a position not suitable for a waltz. She dipped him, and when he stood, grinning, she gave him a twirl.

The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
Accept Jesus as Your Lord and Savior Right Now - CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.

This article has been read 553 times
Member Comments
Member Date
Francy Judge 12/06/12
This is a great story, perfect for the topic. I loved the sweet ending with a humourous twist.
Laura Hawbaker12/07/12
Loved this story! Very well written. I had to pull out my Webster's to look up the word frisson. I love to learn new words!
Karen Pourbabaee 12/07/12
I see a blossoming here...of love and life! A delightful picture.
Noel Mitaxa 12/07/12
Loved the title, and the gentle energy throughout. I thought you were going to be very brave and describe each of the dance steps, but you cleverly took us into the whole picture. A very enjoyable read.
Allison Egley 12/07/12
Hehehe This is great. The funny thing is as I was reading the "ONE two three" part, I had a song playing that just happened to be in 3/4 time. And I read "one" as I got to beat "one" so I read it in perfect timing with the song. :)
Colin Swann12/08/12
A well written story. I think Bob did better than me when I tried dance classes.

Colin Swann (GOLD)
C D Swanson 12/10/12
Fun story to read, nicely done. Thanks.
God bless~
Carolyn Ancell12/10/12
This story is sweet, but it is strong as well. Well crafted, carries reader along with great details. Makes you feel like you are there.
Shann Hall-LochmannVanBennekom 12/11/12
This is such a sweet story. I don't know much about dancing and I think my dog has more rhythm than I do. Still I could see the sweet husband bumbling about all for the sake of love.
Bea Edwards 12/12/12
Ahh this breathed life into my spirit. So lovely- it captured the harsh reality of separation and then blew that sweet soft breath of hope that I felt so personally. Convicted me a bit too, but I think that was part of your intention Aye?
Eddie Snipes12/12/12
Nice story. He dances like I do. Well, maybe a little better.
Carolyn Ancell12/13/12
As I said in an earlier post, I loved this. So happy to see it was given an EC win. Congratulations!