It’s time for the Sunday Whirl Wordle Challenge. Below are the words we are to use in our stories or poems.

Annaliese drained her wine glass and set it on her dressing table with an unsteady hand.

Maybe some deep breathing would help.

But when she closed her eyes, it made her dizzy and nauseous. She grabbed the edge of the table to steady herself.

“Damn, I’ve got to quit drinking before these shows.” She mumbled. “All I need is to wipe-out on the catwalk and blow my career to smithereens.” She’d rather be dead than return to her Pennsylvania hometown of Oliphant Furnace a failure. She’d never live it down.

Plus, after Adelaide had slipped and fallen off the Paris runway after too much nose candy, the boss had warned them all, “No drugs, no booze, no casualties.

Annaliese glanced at her reflection in the mirror and did a double take. She’d forgotten they’d dyed her dark curly hair a fiery tangerine-looking color for this evening’s show and it looked ridiculous. Not even Raggedy Ann had hair this color. Nobody did!

Raggedy Annaliese. The ominous thought made her weak.

Three minutes, ladies!” A man’s voice boomed.

Annaliese tidied up her dressing room and went out in the hall where the other models were gathering.

She was pleased in a mean sort of way that most of them were high on something too. One woman’s nostrils were outlined in powdered sugar, while another could barely keep her eyes open.

This ought to be good….

“Thirty seconds!” The voice boomed again.

The women got in poisition in unity and got ready to ‘take the walk.’

Everything was going along fine until the model just ahead of Annaliese, Chandra with the powdered sugar nostrils, fell off of her stilletto heel and went sprawling. Annaliese tripped over her and fell flat on her face, ripping her Versace gown.

So much for rhythym and flow.

But it didn’t end there. The model behind Annaliese, Greta, fell over the other two and slid right off the catwalk and into the audience.

And the crowd goes wild!

It was the first pile-up of runway models in history, and most likely Annaliese’s last. She was almost sure her nose was broken.

5 thoughts

Tell it like it is

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