Writing Prompt: She took home the crown that year.

Good morning. I hope everyone has a belly full of turkey and is anticipating left overs. Personally I always like the next day turkey sandwich almost better than I like the meal. But before we contemplate putting ourselves in another turkey induced food coma, lets do a little brain shaking with the morning prompt. Ready? Good then let’s set the timer and see what comes out.

I kind of like this one actually. I wasn’t expecting to. I don’t, in general have much use for beauty pageants and homecoming queens. But I like this one. She is one I am going to think about for a while. She has a story I want to know.

Friday, November 26th: She took home the crown that year.

She took home the crown that year.  It was spectacular.  She wore a dress that floated around her like gossamer. It was as light as air and made her feel like she was a floating cloud.  Then they placed the tiara on her head and the sash across her body.  She felt the weight of each, like ties to this place and time designed to keep her from floating away. 

She was placed in the back of the mayors convertible where she sat regally and waved to the gathered crowd, the marching band in front and the parade floats behind.

It was a magical day. 

When the sun went down, she wanted to keep the feeling.  But she knew she couldn’t.  She held on to it as she made her way home.  The house was empty.  She was grateful for that at least.  She hadn’t told anyone about the crown, about the parade.  She knew they would hear about it.  It was too big a secret to keep.  But she didn’t want to see their faces, share it with them.

She climbed to her room and took off the crown, took off the sash.  Before she could float anywhere, she took off the dress.  She folded it into the top of her suitcase, adding the tiara and the sash as well.  The rest of her things were already packed.  She slipped on her traveling clothes, looked once more around the room and snapped the suitcase shut.

All was ready, all was done.  She took her suitcase downstairs, leaving her prewritten note on the kitchen table.   She stepped out of the house for the last time, locking the door tightly behind her.  She placed the suitcase in the trunk of her old rattle trap of a car and moved to slide behind the wheel. 

In town, the lights were still bright.  She knew the others would be celebrating.  She knew that many would expect her to join in the celebration once she changed into less regal and more regular party clothing.  She hated their disappointment, but it could not be helped.

She skirted the town center, keeping her car to the shadows so that she could not be identified.  She did not want them to see her leave.  It was better to sneak out of town unnoticed than to be stopped and questioned.  She made it out of town without being seen, or at least not being stopped.  She piloted her car onto the highway and had a moment of private satisfaction in the fact that she remembered to gas up her car well before she dressed for the parade.  She would not have to stop again for several more hours.  By then she would be well out of the range of scrutiny.

She entered the highway and merged with traffic.  She waited for the spark of fear. There was none.  She waited for the recriminations and the self-doubt, they never came.  She was done here and now she was leaving. 

This time it was for good. While many in her town never left, she had been leaving periodically since she managed to purchase this car. There were always excuses for leaving and thus far all of her excuses held.  She wondered if anyone realized what she was doing.  Did they know she was leaving?  Setting herself up someplace else?  Did they care?

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