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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2249007-The-Portrait
Rated: E · Short Story · Fantasy · #2249007
A six year old's dream of being a Flamenco dancer
Six year old Theresa always loved going visit her best friend Lucy. The main reason wasn't so much to see Lucy, but rather to see her favorite portrait of Lucy's 16 year old sister Carmela. When entering Lucy's home, everyone was greeted with this floor to ceiling, four foot wide, hand painted portrait of Carmela dressed in her full Spanish Flamenco attire. The portrait was set in an, intricately carved, golden painted wood frame. The portrait was very well done, displaying all the fine details of Carmela, and her dress, which was made of satin and velvet. The colors were a deep dark red and black.

Looking up at the portrait, Theresa always felt as though Carmela would step from the portrait at any moment, and begin dancing. It looked that realistic!

Carmela had been learning to dance the flamenco from a very young age. Flamenco happened to be Theresa's favorite type of dance. At one time, Theresa had the good fortune of going with Lucy to watch Carmela perform at a state dance competition, one in which Carmela took first place. It was spectacular! Every second of the entire performance would stay ingrained in her mind forever. She remembered Carmela beginning her dance posed in the center of the stadium, wearing one of her beautiful dresses, which by the way, she had many, and the stadium being pitch black, with the exception of a solitary spot light, which was shinning directly on Carmela. There she stood so still, frozen in place, like a porcelain doll. Not a sound could be heard throughout the entire arena, yet an great excitement could be felt throughout.

Suddenly, the music of a flamenco guitarra began resonating throughout the stadium, and the stadium came to life! With the first beat, Carmela broke her statuesque pose by stamping her black high healed leather boots. Each step began tapping the ground with the rhythm of the music. Slowly she began to twirl. With ruffles held in her right hand, and fanning the air with her open lace fan in the other, she was one with the music, flowing gracefully across the stadium with each beat of the music. Each step bringing that music to life. Gasps of "AWE" came from the audience as their excitement grew. Many had their breaths taken away by her beauty and motion. She was a spectacular site to see.

Yes, looking up at the portrait always brought those moments back to life for Theresa. She could stay admiring it for hours, for
she never tired of looking at it. Sometimes she would arrive at Lucy's house earlier than planned, and most times, Lucy wasn't quite ready, and so would ask Theresa to wait for her there in the entry way. Perfect!. She would always tell Lucy, "don't worry, take your time", and stand staring at the portrait.

Theresa, while gazing at the portrait, would always get lost in her own thoughts. She could envision herself in Carmela's dress, dancing around that stadium, clicking castanets, swirling her hands in a graceful motion. Up, down, and around her hands would go, just as all flamenco dancers do. She would be gliding to the beat of a guitarra which would be playing a fast Spanish cante. She would be stomping the heals of her cool flamenco boots, and her whole being would be dancing across the room in a one circular motion after another, never losing a beat with the music. She would be one with the rhythm of that guitarra. Everyone would be shouting, “Que bella”, “How Beautiful!”, “Baile Theresa, baile” “Dance Theresa, dance”. Her ruffle train twirling while she danced so gracefully.

Then, still deep in thought, just when she was ready to make her special finale, she would feel a smack on her arm. Lucy was ready to go. Theresa would be knocked out of her Flamenco trance! Time to get back to reality. Time to leave, leave the world of Flamenco. Yet, before she walked out of the door of Lucy's house, she would always give one glance over her shoulder, one last glimpse at that portrait, and she could swear that Carmela, would be smiling, give her a slight nod, and then a wink. Theresa knew it was an acknowledgment one flamenco dancer would give to another. "Baile Theresa, Baile"
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2249007-The-Portrait