This month I will be participating in the “Blogging from A-Z Challenge”
What is it?
I will be Blogging everyday beginning on April First with a topic themed on something with the letterA, then on April second another topic with the letter B as the theme, and so on until I finish on April thirtieth with the theme based on the letter Z. The theme of the day is the letter scheduled for that day.
My theme will be short fictional (well mostly fictional) stories about women. Each woman’s name will begin with the appropriate letter of the alphabet for that day.
All of the women will have the common life experience of a loss of some type.
I invite you, Dear reader, to comment on how you interpret the loss.
Five minutes to go before class was over.
It was the last period of the day. It was the last of her last periods.
“The cutbacks… unavoidable… least seniority… sorry,” they said.
She didn’t know how she felt. She probably wouldn’t until the fall.
She had given all of the kids in each of her classes free reign this day.
“Do whatever you like today, class,”she said.
The kids were surprised, shocked actually.
True, it was the last day of school before summer vacation.
Most of the teachers were more than lenient, particularly as the school year came to an end.
But Miss M, she never was.
Yet, her class was the most popular.
There was something about Miss M.
Typically, when the bell rang to signify the beginning of class, Miss M would rise from behind her obsessively tidy desk and walk to the front of the room, hands folded, in front, at her waist.
Hidden behind thick lenses and horn rimmed frames, the blue of her pretty eyes were hardly noticeable.
Glancing up and down the aisles, she would look directly at each student individually and nod as if mentally taking attendance.
Mildred was tall and angular. Her jet black hair was tightly pulled back in a bun at the nape of her neck. Her wardrobe consisted of crisp white blouses which she wore beneath black, gray or navy cardigan sweaters. The hemlines of her matching black, gray and navy skits fell to just below the knee. She wore modest sensible low heeled shoes.
Her voice was low and throaty, her tone intense.
When she began to speak, she commanded their attention as she took control of their minds.
She hadn’t told anyone that today was her last day. Only the principal knew, but not any of the other teachers.
She certainly did not want a party or fussy good byes.
MillieFive minutes to go before she had to be on stage.
It was the last dance of the night. It was the last of the nights.
“Business is slow… closing the place… sorry,” they said.
She didn’t know how she felt. She probably wouldn’t until her nights were still.
“Play whatever you like,” she said to the DJ.
He was surprised, shocked actually.
She always wanted to select her own music.
Of all of the dancers, she was the most popular.
There was something about Miss M.
At the first beat, she came out of the shadows to step into the spotlight.
Even under the glaring lights, her brilliant blue eyes were mesmerizing.
Millie was tall and lithe. Her jet black hair fell loosely to her waist.
She was scantily covered in glittery sequins, silver or gold.
Her strappy shoes spiked on four inch heels.
She spoke with her body, her movements intense. She commanded their attention as she took control of their desire.
Unlike that afternoon, she told everyone at the club that it was her last night.
She wanted the biggest blast of a party, especially tonight.