Short story: Beauty

She tucks her hair up under the her tiara, and lets the ladies fuss around her makeup.

There is whispering, giggling, adjusting from the girls, a sense of solidarity, a vicious competitiveness dressed in sugar and spice. She is a member of the club, a citizen of this dazzling, nervous town, where the losers cry and the winners wear their sashes triumphantly, grinning like vultures.

When her name is called, she sweeps out to applause, bright lights, rows of hundreds of dim faces, velvet curtains, smiling wide, keeping her eyes bright.

There is no need to overdramatise. She is the undisputed queen of the pagent, as always. She's so used to it, she doesn't even feel relief anymore, just a sense of all being right in the world.

She licks absently at her teeth. She lost her first tooth just two days ago - luckily the tooth fairy left a specially made plate for the pageant.

This is the result of a fifteen minute writing exercise. The only constrictions were the time limit and five randomly selected words from the dictionary. Today the words were: citizen, overdramatise, pageant, relief, and undisputed.

Image courtesy of CeeKay's Pix.