BabySofia Posted March 17, 2023 Share Posted March 17, 2023 Glad to see this! Don't forget to change the date/chapter on the first post. I thought maybe we'd be seeing her mom noticing things that day. I have a feeling by Wednesday she's going to have some serious wardrobe issues for her showcase! She both missed out and dodged a bullet I'm guessing with babysitting during the weekend. I'm still expecting that to be the day she starts not having a choice but to be padded... Looking forward to the next part! ? Link to comment
Olympiczero Posted March 17, 2023 Author Share Posted March 17, 2023 The Ballet Slippers - Chapter 10 Isabelle was typing away on her phone as fast as her little fingers could type. "...And then he totally asked me to come to the beach house, which can't happen until next summer you know?" Dani and Lola had been really excited for her after she had told them what happened. "Iz! That's amazing. And you know what that REALLY mean?! He wants to see you in a bathing suit! ;)" Leave it to Dani. Lola had been equally excited, if not more reserved in her response "Amazing! You should have a plan to approach him next week, maybe we can schedule a movie or something for a few of us to go to?" Isabelle thought that was a great idea "Ya! Good idea Lola." Jane had noticed her daughter was glued to her phone on the way home. She had been spying at her through her rear view mirror, trying to see how she had been doing after her relaxing day. Isabelle had told her she had a good day at the library, but it must have been a little more exciting than she was letting on, based on the smile on her daughter's face as she typed away on her phone. Jane was convinced she could hear a muffled squeal at one point. Upon their arrival at home, Jane reminded Isabelle she should get her things organized for tomorrow. "I know mom. It's not like I haven't done this before." Jane was glad she was taking responsibility, but felt the need to remind her "You haven't done this before Isabelle, so its a little more serious. Please go ahead and get your bag organized so we don't have to worry about it in the morning." Jane was probably sterner than she intended. Isabelle was going to respond, but thought better of it. "It's not worth it. But what on earth is she saying? Of course I've done this before." So when she walked through the front door and kicked off her sneakers, Isabelle headed straight to her room to do as she was told. "It will actually be easier to get this out of the way." she thought. Opting for a similar look to her performance the Friday prior, Isabelle went into her dresser and took out a paid of black tights to wear. "I'll put those over the leotard again," she concluded, "lengthening the look of some of the moves." Isabelle proceeded into her closet, and took out three options of black leotards, setting them on her bed. Isabelle stripped out of her clothes from the day, and proceeded to take the first leotard off of a hanger. She stepped into it..... And it was huge. It didn't fit at all. The extra fabric was showing everywhere; on her hips, on her shoulders, and it didn't rest snugly on her arms at all. "What on earth? I could have sworn I wore this EXACT leotard in the spring finale last year. Why is....is it huge on me?" She was perplexed, and quite frankly, a little concerned. "I really liked this one too....I thought I'd wear it.." Isabelle shook off her disappointment, turning instead to her second choice. She slipped the first leotard off, and tossed it over her shoulder, onto her desk chair. "Time for number two," she said, stepping into the second leotard, which, while not her favorite, was certainly more than serviceable. "In fact, I am pretty sure this was the one I wore when we performed Carmen over the summer for the summer program," she thought. She was feeling more confident now, having had such a good time in that performance. "And that was TOTALLY the one that all the programs came to, so maybe Avery was even there," she said feeling even better, "and I actually loved how I looked in that -" She was cut off, just as she was pulling the leotard over her shoulders, by her greatest fear. This one... This one.... This one didn't fit either. In fact, it fit WORSE than the last one did. This one was hanging too low, and was not fitting snug against her crotch. There was just...just so much fabric..."...How?" It especially wouldn't work at all with her tights being on top, it would just bunch up and bulge. Isabelle was in a fit of panic at this stage, nearly tearing her leotard as she was removing it. "Please....oh god...Please.....why why why why why," she panicked as she was stepping out of option 2. "Please let this not be happening." That time she spoke out loud, legitimate fear in her voice. She quickly stepped into leotard number three, and without hesitating, screamed. "MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM" Jane had been downstairs unloading some of the groceries and other items she had picked up while she was out, listening to some music on the radio on the kitchen counter. She had noticed quite a bit of shuffling going on upstairs, but assumed it was nothing more than Isabelle raiding her closet for the perfect outfit. Then the shriek happened. Jane dropped the can of beans in her hands, and ran to the stairs to find out what was going on. "Sweetheart! Are you okay?!? What is going on." Isabelle had made her way to the stop of the stairs, and was obviously in distress, Jane noted. Her face was pale, and she was teary eyed. She was standing there in nothing but a...terrible fitting leotard to be honest, and was a mess. She looked like she had seen a ghost. "MoMM Nothngfirnfign and IwonTbeble toDnce and IdNTKnwWhatHppen MoMmmmmmmmm" Isabelle's words were completely jumbled, and she had now transitioned from teary, to crying. "Baby...slow down. What's the problem. We'll fix it! Just slow down and tell me. Deep. Breaths....There you go hunny!" Jane said, as Isabelle started slowing down her breathing. Isabelle proceeded to sit down on the stairs, and Jane walked up to her, and sat down with her. "Now tell me, what's the problem?" Isabelle had calmed down enough, she thought, to tell her mom the problem "Mom...none of my leotards are fitting. They're all huge on me, and I don't know how its possible. I wore these, like last week, and they fit." Jane listened, and tried to understand, but was skeptical. The leotard Isabelle was wearing now was obviously not right, but it couldn't be all of them. Isabelle had just purchased some new ones over the summer. "Oh well that isn't good at all. Why don't you show me and well see if maybe it was something else." "Something else?" Isabelle thought, "what the hell else could it be? They don't fit." Yet, in that moment, she didn't have the energy to talk back. Isabelle stood up, her mom standing up as well and rubbing her back, and they headed together into Isabelle's room. Isabelle, walking over to her bed, started picking up the other two that didn't fit, and explaining to her mom why they were wrong. Isabelle was distressed as she explained, and couldn't understand why on earth was happening. The tears continued to pour down her face. Jane, on the other hand, couldn't help but smile once Isabelle showed her the problem. This only irritated Isabelle more "Mom, this is a serious problem. Why are you smiling??" Jane took a beath, and looked her daughter in the eye, smile expanding. "Sweetheart, of course these don't fit." Jane was practically giggling now, as the solution was so obvious. Isabelle, not in on the "obviousness," of the situation, made a face toward her mom as though to continue and let her in on what was so funny. "These are Lola's leotard's that didn't fit her anymore. I ran into Mr. Hayes the other day at the library's book fair, when I was dropping off your tuition check. He mentioned that Lola had some leotards that were too small on here, and asked if we wanted them." Isabelle's face had changes from hysteria to utter confusion. Before she could chime in, her mom continued. "I figured you would eventually grow into them, and I hung them up in the back of your closet. Don't worry sweetie. You'll grow into them." .... ... What on earth was her mom on about? "Grow into them?' Why would she be growing into anything? And.....just WHAT? There was so much going on with this that she just completely didn't grasp. And yet, for some reason, the most useless question escaped her lips. "Since when do you talk to Lola's dad?" ... ..."Seriously Iz?" That's what you have to say about this situation? "Isabelle, do you really think I don't ever talk to your friends' parents? You've known Lola for years now, and she's been a good friend and not to mention a mentor. Of course I know her dad." Isabelle realized the question was silly. 'Obviously mom knows Mr. Hayes.' He was at her birthday parties, her graduations, her recitals, just like all the parents. But Isabelle also knew that her mom had been out for dinner with Mr. Hayes and Dani's parents too, if even infrequently. And of course, they had all been to Lola's mom's funeral when Isabelle was just a little kid. It was a stupid remark, but Isabelle had been distracted by other matters. Regardless of her stupidity, Isabelle was able, for some reason, to stop crying. None of this made sense of course. "I mean, I wore that one last week....." She said lifting it in her hand, "...didn't I?" She was beginning to doubt herself. But just as she was, her mom wrapped her up in a big hug. "Come sweetie, I have some clean leotards downstairs in the laundry room. I think there is even a black one." Her mom had a solution, and tears were not it. So Isabelle got herself under control, and followed her mom. Isabelle didn't really care what else her mom had said. It was sort of just completely irrelevant. All that mattered at this point was that she had something to wear for tomorrow. So, together with her mom, they headed downstairs, Isabelle's face a mess from obviously just crying, walking down in an oversized leotard. Isabelle was leaning her head into her mom the whole way down, exhausted from the ordeal. As they stepped together on the top stair heading to the basement, the creak in the stair snapped Isabelle back to her current dilemma, and she lifted her head up off her mom's chest. Jane just smiled. Sure enough, as her mom turned the light on in the laundry room, there were four or five leotards drying on a hanging rack. "I recognize those....I....that one used to be my favorite" she thought, identifying a white leotard, "and that one....I mean...it was baby blue. She hadn't worn anything like that in...." Isabelle couldn't help but think...yes.. "Mom, these are some of my old leotards. Why are you drying these out." Jane sighed. She had to manage the situation deftly. It would be a tough year for Isabelle obviously, with her closest friends moving on. And maybe this was all just a reaction to that. "I can't get her all worked up before tomorrow though," Jane concluded. "Nonsense sweetie, you wore this one last week. What do you mean, old? These are practically brand new!" Jane said, encouraging her daughter to be excited, "and this one here is perfect," she said lifting black one, "You try this one on and I'll go put these in your closest. I'll put the ones Lola gave us away for now somewhere else so you don't have to deal with the confusion." Before she could even respond, her mom leapt into action, sweeping up the white, blue, tan, and oh god - was that one purple? "Focus Isabelle," she reminded herself, "that can all wait." Isabelle held the black leotard her mom handed her in front of her. "It looked...well,...it looked a little small. But, more obviiously...it was kind of...juvenile?" thought Isabelle. In fact, holding it this close, Isabelle could see some subtle rhinestones that were coming down from the collar, something she would neve- "Well, something I thought I would never get...but it actually isn't that bad I guess. Isabelle took off her oversized leotard, placing it on the drying rack that once housed the leotards her mom took upstairs. "This will never work...It's going to be too small, and then I'm really going to be in trouble," she said, shifting the leotard up her legs and waist, "mom won't have a solution then, and we'll have to go out and get something, ughh god and all I wanted to do was - " .... As she slipped her arm into the last sleeve, something remarkable occurred to Isabelle. The leotard fit....perfectly. "How on earth...." She started to think to herself. "This is the strangest thing in the world." But it solved her problem. And right now, that was priority one. Isabelle started to make her way upstairs to her room. She needed to see how the tights and slippers fit with the leotard. "Maybe with the slippers, it will distract them from these little gems.." She thought. As Isabelle was ascending the staircase, she couldn't help but notice how well, in fact, the leotard was fitting her. It felt great, though she hated to admit it, and Isabelle actually had to hide a smile as she rounded the second staircase to her room. Once she walked in, she found her mom packing up some things from her dresser and her closet in to a bin. Jane turned to see her daughter, "Oh hunny! You look adorable! Put your tights on and lets see the whole outfit!" Isabelle balked for a minute, "what are you packing up mom?" Jane stopped for a moment, before answering, "Oh these were just the things that I unpacked from Mr. Hayes. I'll put them back once you put on a few more inches sweetie. Lola basically shot up a foot in the last two years, you may too!" Whatever, Isabelle thought. Her mom had clearly lost it. She went over to her dresser and took the tights she had set aside, and pulled them on. Isabelle was nervous as she was pulling them up that they would also be a little too big - and honestly, they were - but she was not going to point that out for her mom. Isabelle then went over to her bag, and pulled out the only thing that seemed to make her feel right today - her slippers - and put them one, tying the ribbons up each ankle. Isabelle turned to stare at herself in the mirror. Despite all the stress from tonight, this time she couldn't hide her smile. She was happy with how she looked. The leotard, while not ideal, was still....well I mean it was cute if she had to admit it. And it sort of added to her cute-girl look, she thought. Before she knew it, she found herself turning and checking herself out from various angles, her smile only growing. Jane, meanwhile, silently watched her daughter's mood change. "Isabelle is obviously stressed about her showcase. She should have realized the leotards she was trying weren't hers." Jane thought. "All done with though. She looks gorgeous, and happy - most importantly." Jane reminded herself. "Baby you look great! You're going to do so well tomorrow. I'm so proud of you!" Isabelle started feeling better about herself. Confident again.. Standing there, in her whole outfit, things started to feel right again. She lifted herself onto her toes, and extended a leg out to see how she looked from one more angle. Satisfied - and smiling - She lowered herself, turned back to her mom, and went to hug her, Jane bending down to receive the hug. Isabelle held her mom tight, she was thankful for her. Her mom had been so calm, and she a mess. "Thanks mom. I don't know what I would have done without you." Jane smiled. She loved it when Isabelle embraced her. "Not a problem sweetie. Now why don't you put your things in your bag. I'll take these and store them somewhere, and well have a quiet night before bed. Sound good?" Isabelle just pulled her mom in closer, and nodded against her neck. "Sounds perfect." 8 Link to comment
BabySofia Posted March 17, 2023 Share Posted March 17, 2023 Well, I see the slippers are also changing the world around her! I wonder just how little she'll be for her recital? I have a feeling at least though she'll have clothes that do fit! Looking forward to the performance and her continuing adventure! ? 4 Link to comment
kerry Posted March 18, 2023 Share Posted March 18, 2023 I completely agree with BabySofia: this thing is unrolling beautifully. Clearly, her mother at least perceives her to be younger than she thinks she is. Maybe Avery did too? Odd, though, that Lola and Dani seem to have had a normal conversation with her on the phone... Link to comment
FloridaKid Posted March 19, 2023 Share Posted March 19, 2023 A few days ago I noticed comments from BabySofia and kerry pop up for this story and thought to myself, ‘If they’re reading and responding, must be worth my time…’ Definitely a good call. Character development and world building is something BabySofia is remarkably good at, and I can see why she likes your writing. I appreciate your attention to detail and your investment in each of the story’s characters. I also noticed the subtle changes in Iz’s mom in the last chapter and now I wonder if Wednesday’s performance will be something more like a preschool dance recital. And in my mind all sorts of red flags were waving when Iz considered having Avery go to her babysitting job. I do have a suggestion for you. Sometimes it is a little difficult to distinguish your characters’ thoughts from their dialogue. A technique that some writers use is single quote marks for thoughts and double quote marks for speech. Here’s an example of what I mean: “Do you…” I started to say and then felt the warning look from Hannah and the internal warning from Caireen. ‘This is what I’m talking about, Sofia,’ she said. I sighed, “Get it over with, please…?” I looked at Hannah. In this excerpt from Emerald Princess by BabySofia (yeah, I’m a fan), everything within quotes is spoken or thought by the main character. It is immediately obvious to the reader when non-spoken lines occur. There have been a couple of paragraphs in your story where I thought the use of single and double quotes would have helped clarify whether someone was thinking or speaking. I really like the way you’ve developed this story and I’m looking forward to more! Link to comment
Olympiczero Posted March 19, 2023 Author Share Posted March 19, 2023 7 hours ago, FloridaKid said: A few days ago I noticed comments from BabySofia and kerry pop up for this story and thought to myself, ‘If they’re reading and responding, must be worth my time…’ Definitely a good call. Character development and world building is something BabySofia is remarkably good at, and I can see why she likes your writing. I appreciate your attention to detail and your investment in each of the story’s characters. I also noticed the subtle changes in Iz’s mom in the last chapter and now I wonder if Wednesday’s performance will be something more like a preschool dance recital. And in my mind all sorts of red flags were waving when Iz considered having Avery go to her babysitting job. Your words are exceptionally kind. I am really grateful you are enjoying the story. I am trying to drop little hints and instances to refer back to as Isabelle...progresses. I am happy you are catching them. And though I am certain I, more than anyone, would love her to be in a pre-school recital, I don't think it'll happen overnight! Iz isn't quite there yet, but who knows! 7 hours ago, FloridaKid said: I do have a suggestion for you. Sometimes it is a little difficult to distinguish your characters’ thoughts from their dialogue. A technique that some writers use is single quote marks for thoughts and double quote marks for speech. Here’s an example of what I mean: “Do you…” I started to say and then felt the warning look from Hannah and the internal warning from Caireen. ‘This is what I’m talking about, Sofia,’ she said. I sighed, “Get it over with, please…?” I looked at Hannah. In this excerpt from Emerald Princess by BabySofia (yeah, I’m a fan), everything within quotes is spoken or thought by the main character. It is immediately obvious to the reader when non-spoken lines occur. There have been a couple of paragraphs in your story where I thought the use of single and double quotes would have helped clarify whether someone was thinking or speaking. I really like the way you’ve developed this story and I’m looking forward to more! Seriously - I am so grateful for the hints/advice/suggestions here. This one in particular is spot on for something I have been DYING over. I have never written anything with dialogue and internal thoughts before, and the inconsistency throughout the chapters on my part in treating those dialogues really bothered me. I am working on correcting the past chapters piece by piece (and catching some silly typos while I am at it.) But this suggestion is SO helpful, and moving forward, I'll ensure to do it this way. Thank you so much! **To all those readers who are checking in, I want to thank you again for your support. I anticipate another chapter posted today (*possibly two - I missed writing about Iz yesterday). I am grateful for each and every person who has taken the time to read my story.** 2 Link to comment
Olympiczero Posted March 19, 2023 Author Share Posted March 19, 2023 The Ballet Slippers - Chapter 11 "McCollum, Rebecca." A nervous girl walked up to Mrs. Smith, the head of the ballet department at Higgins, to get her measurements registered before going into the auditorium. 'Each girl approaching Smith looked positively ill," Isabelle was thinking. 'They better get themselves under control before they get on the stage.' Each year was the same. Those students that were attending Higgins full-time as students in the ballet department were required to perform at the showcase before semester began. The incoming class of high school freshman were not invited; they would only be going through orientation on Monday. But the other three classes - Sophomores, Juniors, and the Senior classes - would all perform individual showcases for the entire dance staff. The showcase determined, in large part, your original assignment in the school productions. "Patterson, Jennifer." Another girl sweating from her face approached Smith. The hallway outside the auditorium was packed tightly with students, all dressed, hair tied up, and preparing to perform. Isabelle had woken up especially early that morning to ensure she had enough time to have her coffee, er....do her business, and get her hair and makeup done and ready. Isabelle even got dressed at home, other than her slippers, something she rarely did. Walking into the school, Isabelle had felt apprehensive about her attire. Her leotard, though fitting her perfectly, was in fact a little juvenile. Now that she was in school, it felt as though the tiny diamond-like rhinestones patterned down her chest were about 5 times bigger than they probably were. 'Today is not the day to feel self-conscious,' she thought, but she couldn't help it at all. Isabelle couldn't kick the though that she would be instantly judged by her peers, by her colleagues, and most importantly, by the teachers. They had known Isabelle for years, and knew that the senior students appreciated how important the showcase was. Smith, Darrell, even Johansan would question her choice of attire. "Nothing else fit" would hardly be a satisfying excuse, nor would it really be explainable. Isabelle couldn't shake the nervous energy already taking over her body. That was until, of course, she exchanged her sneakers for her slippers. Instantaneously, her nerves left her; any concern she had about her outfit disappeared into an abyss, and didn't return. It was almost as if....'I know something was bothering me," Isabelle pondered, as she made her way to the meeting spot outside the auditorium, 'I just can't remember what...oh well.' The thought, the fear, the shame - they literally escaped her mind. "Slova, Katarina." A small petite girl approached Smith. 'She can't be more than 5 feet tall," Isabelle thought, and then returned to her conversation with Dani, Lola, and Victoria, who had all arrived just before Isabelle. 'It would be a while before she got called anyway,' Isabelle thought, 'they go in alphabetical order by year.' She was routinely the last to perform. "So Iz," Lola started, "Are you ready for your first time up? I remember I was so nervous when I did it. I was off cue, literally the whole time. I just couldn't bring myself to correct it." Isabelle looked at Lola, wondering what she was going on about. 'Yes, that HAD happened to Lola two years ago...why was she bringing it up...' Isabelle was about to ask what Lola was on about, when Dani chimed in "Ugh don't listen to her. You'll be fine. You've been telling us that you have the routine down perfectly. Just pretend your practicing." Dani was always encouraging, and her remarks distracted Isabelle from Lola's prior comments. "Thanks. And yah, I feel ready. I feel great in fact." She replied, honestly. Something about getting those slippers on....they just made all her concerns go away. "Proud of you Iz. You're going to do great," Lola added. Victoria stood by nodding. "Just remember, there's no pressure in your year. You just need to do your best, and learn the most you can from whatever role you get! It's such a great experience. I wish I could re-live it!" That time, Lola had to be kidding. 'No pressure? This was senior year.' Lola was really acting off today. What on earth was going - "Weber, Isabelle." Isabelle barely registered the fact that her name had been called. Only it couldn't be her name, but a sophomore girl with the same name. 'I wonder if she spells Isabelle the same way. I know some people use a 'z' instead of an 's'. Maybe she spells Weber with two 'b's, who knows?' Before Smith made a second request, Dani snapped her out of her daydream. "Iz!," she said sternly, "get up there now. You don't want to piss Smith off." Dani turned Isabelle around, and gently shoved her toward Smith. "Get up there now." Lola was shooing her as well, and blew a kiss. 'There had to be some sort of mistake. Obviously there was a mistake. I mean, Smith knew who she was. She had danced with her for four years.' Isabelle decided she better just go up and get this straightened out, and so quickly pattered up to Smith to explain herself. As she was leaving, she faintly overheard the conversation taking place with her friends behind her. Isabelle slowed, just to catch enough of it. "How is it you know her again?," which had originated from Victoria. She must have been asking about someone else Dani and Lola knew, the three of them having been students longer than most. "Our moms became friends, and spent a lot of time together as kids. Its just always been us!" Lola had responded. Isabelle thought it was an odd conversation. Contrary to her initial belief, it was about her. 'Maybe they were talking about me, but....that wasn't how they met.....at least I don't think it was," Isabelle though to herself. After staying for the summer program, Victoria had decided to join Higgins for her senior year. Isabelle was excited; she rather liked Victoria. But Lola's story didn't quite add up. 'Didn't they all just meet in class all those years ago? Whatever, I have to go deal with this.' Isabelle made her way up to Ms. Smith, intending to correct the obvious mistake that had been made. "Ms. Weber, taking our time are we?" Isabelle was about to interrupt, but before she could "Enough of that. We cannot fall behind. On the platform." Isabelle's eyes got bigger. "But Ms. Smith, there's been a - " Smith looked up from her clipboard with a face Isabelle knew all too well. "There has been no mistake, Ms. Weber. On the platform, NOW." Isabelle was not sure whether it was the fear or something else, but she was up on the platform she was directed to get on for her measurements faster and more compliant than she had intended. "Smith then began turning her, measuring her, and weighing her, and checking various other dimensions. "Very good. 5 foot 2. 92 pounds. Good shoulder-hip ratio. Head on in Ms. Weber, and seat yourself next to Ms. Tan." Isabelle was about to take the opportunity to interject, but was cut off when she opened her mouth. "Now Ms. Weber. Do not make me ask again. Anderson, Jasmine." And with that, Isabelle headed into the auditorium. She pushed open the double door, and started descending the ramp with the red carpeting, toward the first few rows of the center of the auditorium. She could see most - or all - the sophomore girls sitting and waiting already. They wouldn't wait for the juniors and seniors to come in before performing, so she expected they would start shortly. Isabelle, of course, would need to correct the record at some point before she was inadvertently called up to perform her showcase, but Smith was obviously busy now, and she could just flag a teacher inside and explain it to them. 'I mean, this was ridiculous,' she thought to herself, 'one more thing I need to deal with today - wait... ...did she say 5 foot 2? ...and did she say I weighed only 92 pounds?' Isabelle stopped in her tracks. She contemplated going back to Smith - there had been too many mistakes. But did she really want to bother her more than she already had. And she was planning on correcting her assigned performance spot anyway, couldn't she just deal with it then? That seemed like the more mature thing to do anyway. ....is what Isabelle would normally have said to herself. But that rational kind of thinking was not currently occupying her mind. Instead, she felt angry. She felt upset. She felt...felt.....This was all wrong. And Isabelle was going to correct it. Isabelle turned around, and started marching up the ramp toward the entrance. Just as she reached for the door handle, another girl - probably 'Anderson, Jasmine,' - had been pushing it open, and they bumped into each other gently. The exchanges of apologies between Isabelle and Jasmine had, however, caught the attention of Ms. Smith, who was now approaching them. 'Excellent, I'll have a minute alone to explain everything.' Isabelle thought. "What is the meaning of this Ms. Weber. Why are you not in your seat?" Smith asked, tersely. "Well, Ms. Smith, you see there has obviously been a mistake. No fault of yours of course. Administrative. But you see, I was called at the end of the list of Sophomores, and, well, you know who I am of course. And there was one other thing. I believe my measurements may have been mis-recorded. Again, no fault of - " Ms. Smith silenced Isabelle by merely lifting her hand. "You are correct about one thing only Ms. Weber. I know exactly who you are. There was no administrative mistake. I made this list myself. Are you saying I made a mistake Ms. Weber, that I cannot manage my list?" The question was obviously meant to be rhetorical, but Isabelle couldn't help herself. "Well, I mean I don't mean to be blunt, but there was a mista-" Ms. Smith didn't need to raise her hand a second time. Instead, she silenced Isabelle with such a terrifying glare that Isabelle simply trailed off the last few words. "I in fact, did not make a mistake. And I expect more out of mature young women who study ballet here. Perhaps you are not so mature. Now get back into your seat, AT ONCE, and do not make me repeat myself once more. Are. We. Clear?" Isabelle knew better than to talk back this time. She simply nodded, turned around, and moved down the auditorium, to sit with the other sophomore students. Isabelle sat down, intending to re-focus her mind, but instead just pouted, simmering over what just happened. 'It's not fair. Not fair at all. This is absurd. Whatever. I'll just perform earlier, and get out of her. Maybe they want me to mentor or something and are slipping seniors in with other students,' Isabelle thought to herself. Whatever reason Smith had, Isabelle knew she was wrong. Isabelle sat in her seat, stewing over what had happened, as the sophomore students started getting on stage one at a time. Isabelle tried to refocus herself, but she felt...just so angry. Instead of being the supportive classmate she was to her friends, and frankly to everyone in her program, Isabelle felt herself being very critical of each student's performance. 'They were just sophomores after all,' she tried reminding herself, 'but still, there are fairly disappointing.' Slowly but surely, performance after performance, it was becoming closer to her turn. The flow of students coming in had clearly stopped, as Isabelle was no longer hearing the door to the auditorium open and close. Just as "Slova, Katarina was called to go backstage, Isabelle heard a whisper in her ear "heard you decided to irk Smith on showcase day." Isabelle turned, and found her two friends kneeling beside her. "Ha...yah I guess so. Any idea why she placed me here though. Its so odd. And then there's another thing, my - " Dani cut her off "SHHH. Keep it down. This is just the order, don't stress about it." That didn't answer her question at all. "Iz. Just worry about you. Get up there and do your best," Lola added. Isabelle was beginning to feel better. Her friends really did know how to comfort her. "Just focus on your steps. Your routine. Your dance. You're an amazing dancer, and the school is about to be put on notice. Now get up there!" Mr. Johansan's assistant came up the aisle at that moment. "Thanks guys. I'll see you after.' Isabelle said, standing up. "Ms. Weber?" the assistant confirmed with her. Isabelle nodded. "Please head backstage." The last thing Isabelle saw before heading up the side stairs were who two friends, staring back at her; Lola, blowing her a kiss, and Dani, waving like a maniac. "I'm the luckist girl there is," Isabelle announced to herself. Saying it out loud made it feel even more real. ' Let's do it.' ********* Isabelle took center stage once Ms. Slova had wrapped her routine up. Other than a pretty inconsequential fall that she covered up well, Ms. Slova' routine was pretty solid for a sophomore, if not a little too basic. Isabelle had planned to offer substantially more. Isabelle was setting her feet to their starting position, when it happened. It being...well "it." There was no other word for it, because it had only happened once before. But, just like the other day in the kitchen, her venue began re-shaping itself before her. Her school's auditorium's stage replaced by a more elegant, treated warm redwood stage instead. The tapestry around her, once the stained red velvet she was accustomed to, replaced by beautiful, ornate, gold and bronze tapestries. Isabelle's eyes traced the frame around the stage, as the metamorphosis continued. The simple, black farms of the stage transformed into golden gilded masterpieces; the seats in front of her, once covered with a cheap fabric, transfigured into beautifully dyed leather seats; balcony boxes emerged from seemingly nowhere, tracing their way diagonally up the sides of the room. As Isabelle's eyes traced to the back of the room, two enormous mezzanine balconied slide out to hang over the auditorium. And everywhere, in every seat, sat audience members. Gone were her friends; gone were her professors; gone were the students and the few parents who had shown up. In their places, every seat was filled with strangers, each dressed more elegantly than the last. And in front of her - a conductor. Isabelle could feel the vibrations of bow on string, of hammer on string, the quaking of horns, and shaking of percussions as the orchestra warmed up below her. And as they did, one final detail emerged. The letter appeared, emblazoned on the front of the lower mezzanine balcony, as if only for her to see: "Opéra National de Paris" Isabelle looked down at herself - her own body, and outfit having transformed. She felt stronger, taller, lengthier. In place of her childish leotard, was instead a gorgeous modern white ballet dress, made out of a sheer white chiffon. It fell against her body....jeez, what a body it was... perfectly, accentuating her physical and beautiful ballet body. Her legs were covered by what felt like the softest white tights, emphasizing her long legs which felt like they were extending forever. The tights led down to the most gorgeous - wait. In fact they were the most gorgeous ballet slippers - but they had not changed. They were her ballet slippers. Isabelle looked back out toward the crowd. She could not believe this was happening. She was having some sort of breakdown, at the worst possible moment. "I mean this was cute and all when it happened while I was unloading the dishes, but not now' Isabelle thought. "I need to do something to snap out of this. I need to stop this. I need to - " But before she could do anything, the music below her started. 'Oh god. This is NOT my music...I do NOT have a routine for this..." Her body, betrayed her, and slowly - and elegantly - she lifted her first arm, flowing it to the music with the grace of a queen. Her head turned, as she was suddenly illuminated for the crowd. Isabelle couldn't control what happened from here - her mind was simply along for a ride that her body took off on. ... And my god. My. God. What a ride it was. Isabelle had never seen such incredible dancing. But she wasn't just seeing it. No. She was DOING it. She was the ballerina. But she couldn't believe her own eyes, her own body, as it soared through the air, extended itself into incredible positions, moved elegantly along with the most beautiful music her ears had ever heard. Fouettés. Pirouettes. Sauté. Isabelle's body hit every move. Isabelle was lost in one of her fantasies. In fact, it was one of her greatest ones ever. Except this time, it felt real. It wasn't her imagination....I mean, obviously it was. But also - it wasn't. "It all feels too real..." she thought, as she continued wowing the audience, continued wowing herself. She was not in the shower, playing some tape in her head. Instead, the world she had dreamed of was outside of her, and she was embracing the role of protagonist. Grand Adage. Grand Battements. Demi-pointe glides. Isabelle's core supported her through moves she could only dream of perfecting. Isabelle was bewildered. She was amazed. She was....she was incredible. And it was not just her. As she glanced out to the audience, her fans were awe-struck by what they were seeing. It was no surprise; Isabelle knew this performance was incredible by even the highest standards - not her school's standards, but by real professionals. For her, this performance was improbable - or more impossible - she could never pull this off in her wildest dreams. Yet here she was, doing exactly that. The feeling, however, came to a close. It felt as though it never would. But suddenly, Isabelle ended the routine, a surprise even to her having never actually performed it before. But what followed was appropriate; a resounding applause took over. The noise reverberated through the opera house; not a soul was left seated. A standing ovation, that appeared it would not end. Isabelle herself wanted to applaud, but she remained utterly out of control of her body. 'Not that I mind, if that is what happens' she thought, referring to her dance of course! The clapping echoed loudly, and carried on for far longer than she expected. But then it began to fade, and Isabelle seemingly regained control of her body. Her head shot up - just in time to see the world she fantasized of, the world she was coming to love, the world she....she never wanted to leave, begin to fade just like the applause. Isabelle peered below her, just as the stage began to dissolve under her feet, replaced by a far simpler, far more worn stage that Isabelle knew well. The beautiful drapery returned to the stained red velvet; the gilded frame, reshaped into a black square; the balconies disintegrated, the particles blowing away with a wind; the mezzanine balconies retreated from whence they came; the dyed leather seats replaced with soiled fabric. And the audience, last but not least, fell into the abyss from which they had risen. Isabelle was sweating, and it became clear to Isabelle that she had just performed something, though what for certain, she couldn't tell you. Her body ached in new places and old; her legs felt worn; her brow sweaty; her head twisted from apparently spinning and turning; everything, everything except her feet, which felt...amazing. 'How could it possibly be that I performed...when I wasn't even here. I don't remember anything...' Isabelle was genuinely frightened as to what may have happened. Starring out now, into the silence, Isabelle knew that all that was left was her classmates, her teachers, and some parents. Their faces, much like the audience from Paris, looked dumbfounded. 'Ohhhhhhhhhhh god........what. did. i. do....." Her terror returned. Her heart was racing. And though she could see the audiences faces, she couldn't discern a single face, couldn't identify anyone she knew. Not one. Not one person. That is, until she met the gaze of her friends; Dani and Lola locking eyes with her. They were looking at her, beaming with pride at their friend's performance. And at that moment, Isabelle calmed down. Her panic ceased. Her sweat cooled off. Her concerns all left her body and mind. In that moment, nothing else mattered; not that she had to dance with sophomores, not that Smith had messed up her measurements, and even not that she may have screwed up her whole routine. At that moment, her friends were proud of her, and she knew it. Nothing else mattered. 6 Link to comment
BabySofia Posted March 19, 2023 Share Posted March 19, 2023 Now I'm genuinely looking forward to the response of whatever she just did. Was she some phenom just now? Did she just barely make do as a sophomore? Now that the summer program is over (if I'm following this correctly) I have a feeling she'll now be able to keep on going backwards here. Thanks for the chapter, looking forward to more! ? Link to comment
diaperuser Posted March 19, 2023 Share Posted March 19, 2023 I am looking forward to next chapter. 1 Link to comment
kerry Posted March 19, 2023 Share Posted March 19, 2023 29 minutes ago, BabySofia said: Now I'm genuinely looking forward to the response of whatever she just did. Was she some phenom just now? Did she just barely make do as a sophomore? If I am reading correctly, she just presented a professional-level performance, led by her new shoes and whatever spirit or magic inhabits them. 1 Link to comment
ABAlex Posted March 19, 2023 Share Posted March 19, 2023 Read the first three chapters. Love it so far! Not sure where it is going but your writing is great 1 Link to comment
Olympiczero Posted March 19, 2023 Author Share Posted March 19, 2023 1 hour ago, kerry said: If I am reading correctly, she just presented a professional-level performance, led by her new shoes and whatever spirit or magic inhabits them. She certainly perceives it that way. We'll all just have to wait and see what happens! Thanks for following 1 Link to comment
FloridaKid Posted March 20, 2023 Share Posted March 20, 2023 Love it. I especially like how you’re dropping hints at the reality warp that’s occurring. Just familiar enough to Iz to seem right, but confusing at the same time. Not knowing how long this story will be, I don’t know how much of a slow burn you have planned. I love the pace so far. I do like the revised format for your characters’ thoughts and dialogue. There are a couple of places to clean up the closing quote marks, but IMHO it makes for a better reading experience. Thank you for being open to suggestions! Link to comment
Olympiczero Posted March 22, 2023 Author Share Posted March 22, 2023 The Ballet Slippers - Chapter 12 Isabelle had returned to her seat in the auditorium. After wrapping her performance up, she started feeling unsure of herself, if only because she remembered nothing of actually, well, performing. Isabelle was in her seat pondering the surreal experience. 'It felt so real. It felt like I was really there. Really in Paris. But that was ridiculous...' Isabelle was starting to get nervous. 'But I mean, real time passed. I wasn't just imagining it. Was I just standing still the entire time I was up there?' Her doubts began creeping up again. 'It couldn't be. I mean...I'm gross. I was obviously dancing. But what did I do? And more importantly....why is this happening?' Of all the questions Isabelle should have been asking, the last one was the most critical. Students were not required to stay after their performances. Indeed, a number of the ballet students who had wrapped theirs up had already left. Others remained to watch the juniors and seniors go through their routines. In truth, it was a really long day to stick around for. In the past Isabelle had left after she finished, but due to the change in her scheduled time, she really didn't have anything else to do. 'I have to get my head right,' Isabelle kept thinking. 'These fantasies are not good. And they are going to start interfering with my performances,' she thought. 'That said.....' Isabelle was starting to feel an indescribable pull. The fantasies, whatever they were, they felt good. 'It's everything I've always dreamed of, in truth,' Isabelle admitted, '...but even though they feel real...they obviously aren't. Look around you Iz...you aren't in Paris. You're home.' Even though her mind knew what she experienced had been some sort of mental episode, her heart felt warm. She felt fulfilled, living out her greatest dreams, even if it was only her imagination. "I feel....lost.' Isabelle didn't know what to do. She could tell her mom what happened...what was happening. Her mom would be understanding. But obviously, Jane would also be extremely concerned. Isabelle knew her mom; she could chalk it up to the high pressures Higgins put on their students, or an overwhelming schedule, or anything really. She loved her mom, but she sometimes treated Isabelle like a porcelain doll who couldn't handle 'it.' She could tell her friends what what happening. Isabelle wasn't sure they would believe her, but at the very least they would listen. Dani and Lola usually had good advice when it came to dance issues. But was this even related to dance? I mean, it wasn't really...But maybe it was? Maybe other dancers like her had this happen to them. If not though, they would think she was nuts. She could tell no one. This obviously presented the fewest obstacles. 'I mean, its only happened twice,' Isabelle thought, trying to ease her concerns away. 'And its not like anything bad has happened....at least I don't think,' she continued. "All I am going to do is worry my mom or scare my friends into thinking I am some nut.' Keeping it to herself seemed like the most appealing thing to do, at least for now. As Isabelle was pondering her dilemma, a whisper came over her shoulder "Iz! You were amazing!" It was Dani. Isabelle couldn't help but smile. "Seriously Iz, it was a great first showcase. There is no way you don't get a good role in some of the productions this year," Lola added. 'First? We only have one showcase this year' Isabelle thought to herself. "We have to head back to our seats, or else Smith will lose it when its our turn to get on stage, but well see you Friday night! So. Proud. Of. You." Lola emphasized each of the last words, before laying a kiss on Isabelle's cheek. Isabelle couldn't help but smile, but something was still bugging her. Isabelle thought back to Smith calling her with the sophomores. The more she thought about it, Isabelle was called in the correct spot, if she had actually been a sophomore. And then her measurements....Smith had gotten them off. She hadn't been that small for years, but.....And then her mom. And Lola for that matter. They kept saying this was her 'first' showcase, and making other remarks that made no sense at all. Isabelle was perplexed, which just made her re-visit her concerns about what happened on stage. 'What is happening? Why is everyone treating me so....oddly?' Isabelle set out to figure out what this was all about. The easiest solution, of course, would be just to point out that last year during the showcase she had perfor- .....'What did I do last year for my showcase?' Isabelle couldn't recall. Sitting here now, Isabelle didn't remember the music, the routine, or quite frankly, any part of her showcase from last year. Isabelle sat, focusing and re-focusing, trying to stir up any memory of it. But nothing. Nothing at all. Her head felt fuzzy, and the memory of her performance, even a part of it, wouldn't come to her. 'Whatever, it was so long ago,' she redirected her mind, 'But its not important because my first year I definitely did - ....What the hell?' Isabelle knew she remembered her first showcase. Everyone did. Much like the sophomore girls that went on before her, she had been a nervous wreck. I mean, she, Lola, and Dani had practiced for we- ......But no...maybe they hadn't. Isabelle couldn't remember practicing that routine with them. She couldn't remember the routine either. 'It's on the tip of my tongue. I remember it had......music?...huh, that's the best you can do Iz?' She laughed to herself. 'Of course it had music. I just can't......I can't think. My head is killing me." the fuzziness in her head was now a considerable throbbing. 'All this thinking isn't helping." "Henry, Amelia" had just completed her routine. It would be ages before this was all wrapped up. And Isabelle was not feeling well at all. Slowly, Isabelle stood from her seat, and went towards her friends in the back. The teachers cared much less about what order the seniors sat in, and she was not surprised to find Lola, Dani, and Victoria all sitting together. As Isabelle approached, her friends waved her over. 'Great work Isabelle," Victoria started. 'You were remarkable. I still haven't seen anyone better yet today. It definitely left an impression." Isabelle smiled back genuinely, "thanks Tori! I...uh...was happy with my performance?" Isabelle ended her statement with a high inflection, unsurprising considering she had no memory of what she actually did out there. The next part she kept to herself 'of course I was better than the sophomores and juniors, though.' Isabelle turned her attention to Dani and Lola. "Please don't hate me, but I am really having a throbbing headache. I am going to see if my mom can pick me up earlier than expected. But I am going to miss you perform. I am so sorry! But the lights, and the noise....I'm just really not feeling well." Her friends returned sympathetic looks. "Of course Iz! Don't think twice about it. We didn't expect you to stay the whole time. Go home! We'll see you Friday." Dani said, offering a sympathetic face, and stroking her arm as she left. 'That was sweet of them,' Isabelle thought. Isabelle stood up, and continued up the ramp toward the exit in the back. She waited until the current performer finished her routine - Patel, Angela, had been less than impressive - and then opened the door to leave. Isabelle was immediately struck by how bright it was in the hall, or, conversely, how dark it had been in the auditorium. The bright hallway lights hitting her eyes did not help her headache. Isabelle called her mom, intending to let her know that she was done, and to see if she could get a lift home earlier than expected. "You have reached the voicemail of Jane Weber. Please leave a message." Isabelle hung up the phone before hearing the tone, saving her mom the trouble of listening to a one second voicemail. She then sent her mom a text, letting her know she was ready to go home: "Hey mom. Performed earlier than expected. Any chance you can pick me up?" It would be a bit before she heard back, so Isabelle decided she would head toward the registration office to get her schedule set up. On her way there, she felt the vibration of her phone. Her mom had answered her quicker than expected "Sure honey. I'll be over in a half hour. Can't wait to hear how it went." 'It was a good question,' Isabelle thought, though having no idea as to how to respond, she would have to relay what her friends told her. Regardless, her mom's impending arrival would mean that she would need to be quick about picking up her schedule, so Isabelle started hightailing it across the school, toward the administration office (finding time to do a couple of pirouettes on the way, of course). Isabelle arrived at the office at a time when several of the sophomore dancers had also taken the opportunity to get their own schedules. Isabelle felt a little out of place, but the students were kind, all passing compliments to her about her performance. She did the same in response, though she honestly couldn't recall any of them performing. She had been so caught up in her frustration, she had been too distracted to remember anyone else's particulars. Isabelle waited patiently to get to the front of the line and provide her information to the secretary. She was second in line when her phone buzzed - 'mom letting me know she's outside' - and sent a text back to her mom letting her know she would be out soon. It was her turn at the desk, and so she walked up with a smile, and politely let the secretary know why she was there. "I'm here to pick up my class schedule for the year," Isabelle said excitedly. "Name please." was the only response Isabelle received. "Sure, Isabelle Weber. Sen-" Isabelle was cut off. "Ms. Weber, I have your schedule right here," the secretary responded, handing her a sealed manila envelope. "Next." 'Well that was painless,' Isabelle concluded, disregarding the secretary's abruptness for simply being busy, and headed back toward the front door to meet her mom. Isabelle pushed the doors open, immediately spotting her mom's car, and jogged over to the car, opening the door to the front seat and slipping. in. "Hi Mom!" Isabelle exclaimed, as she buckled her seatbelt, "thanks for coming to get me. I really wasn't feeling well!" Jane looked at her daughter with suspicion. Jane was worried that the showcase had not gone well at all, and the headache was merely an excuse ot get out of school. She decided to tread carefully. "No worries sweetie. I'm sorry your head hurts. We'll get you some medicine at home." Jane paused, thinking on how best to proceed. 'Directly,' she concluded. "How was your day? How did your showcase go sweetie?! Tell me everything. Were you nervous?" Jane regretted asking the last question instantly. Isabelle turned to look at her mom, smiling "It went really well Mom. At least I think it did," Isabelle clarified, and then continued "I mean, everyone told me I did well. Really well. Even Dani, Lola, and Tori said I did a great job. So I'm really pleased." That was the truth, anyway. Isabelle had been pleased with the feedback, even if she did have no clue what took place. "That's amazing sweetheart. I am SO proud of you!! To celebrate, I got all the things for your favorite meal! Its going to be great, and picking you up early gave me just the excuse I needed to go home early and start on cooking." Isabelle was looking forward to dinner now, her mind leaving the conversation and thinking strictly about food. Her mom, however, continued on "How did Lola and Dani do?" The question brought Isabelle back to the present. Her mom was pulling up to the driveway at the house, just as Isabelle started answering. "I didn't get to see Mom. They were going after me." Isabelle said, opening the car door and getting out. Isabelle walked around the back of the car, and joined her mom heading up the stairs. "Aw that's a shame sweetie. But they were probably going much later." Jane responded, as she put the keys in the front door, opening it up and carrying the bags she had with her into the kitchen. Isabelle had long ago decided not to bring up the issues related to her performance, but her mom's remark reminded her of all the other odd stuff that had been going on. That, she would need to bring up, because quite frankly, it was driving her nuts, and so she followed her mom into the kitchen to talk to her about it. "What are you talking about mom?' Isabelle asked the question as she stopped in the hallway behind her mom, closing the door. Isabelle had probably asked the question in a far more aggressive tone than she intended, but between her head, and what happened today, she was starting to get angry again. Isabelle then made her way to the kitchen as her mom started unloading groceries. Rather than wait for her mom, Isabelle continued. "I normally always go after Lola and Dani. It goes alphabetically by last name. I'm usually the last performer in my year mom." "That's right sweetie. In your year." Jane responded, as she set some ground beef and pork into a mixing bowl. She turned back to her daughter, who now sported a....well a pretty mean looking face. "What's wrong sweetie?" Isabelle was feeling irate. She was ready to blow. 'But that's unreasonable. Mom is just asking questions. Maybe I mentioned why I went before them, is all?' Isabelle was trying desperately to calm herself down, but the thoughts of what transpired at school was bugging her. "That's just it mom," Isabelle was getting upset again, and for some reason, was having trouble controlling it. "Ms. Smith called me to go with the Sophomores. The Sophomores, mom, if you can believe it. And then she got my height and weight all wrong, and so I went back to tell her, but did she care? NO. And it was just so annoying. Because she didn't let me go. And I was away from Dani and Lola, and they helped,. But GOD mom, it was just...ughhh so frustrating. Everyone was treating me like I BELONGED with them." Jane looked at her daughter, perplexed. 'What is she on about?' Jane thought 'is this some game?' Jane turned to put some boxed pasta near the stove. "Sweetheart, I know your best friends are Dani and Lola, but that doesn't mean the school is going to make changes for you. You don't get to dance with the seniors just because you're friends with them. It's not a big deal." Jane reached for the salt and pepper, and started seasoning the meat, before adding "and you said you did well. What are you so worried about. I'm proud of you." Isabelle was about to blow a gasket. "Mom, what the hell are YOU on about now? Why are YOU treating me like this too? Is this some sort of JOKE? You think you're being FUNNY? This was really annoying mom. What is WRONG WITH YOU?" Jane looked her daughter in the eye. 'Isabelle does not speak to me like that,' she thought, doing everything to keep her composure and prevent her jaw from hitting the ground. "Isabelle. Why are you so mad? I'm telling you not to worry about it. You did great. Your performance was great. You should feel good about yourself. So they made you dance with the other girls in your class. Even Dani and Lola know you did well." Isabelle heard nothing, nothing other than "other girls in your class." That was it. She couldn't take it anymore. "I don't know what sort of SICK joke you, and Smith, and whoever the fuck else you have in on this are playing. I AM NOT playing your stupid fucking game though." Isabelle was heaving, breathing harder and harder now. And now, now she was shouting at her mom. Now she erupted. "I AM NOT A SOPHOMORE. I AM A SENIOR. I AM A HIGGINS SENIOR. I FUCKING HATE THIS. ITS NOT FUNNY. I. AM. *sniff. NOT. *sniff. NOT. A. SOPHOMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE. STOP **sniff sniff. TREATING ME LIKE THIS." Isabelle was literally steaming, as she finished yelling at her mom. As the last few words exited her mouth, Isabelle had started tearing up. As she wrapped up the last word, her tears turned to full on bawling. 'What is going on' she thought to herself, huffing for air and weeping. Jane was...well shocked was not a sufficient word. Her world had been shaken. They didn't have many rules in the house, but swearing, Isabelle knew that was not tolerated. And yelling at her? In this state? She was acting like a damned toddler. Jane was sympathetic that Isabelle had a challenging day. But this incomprehensible tantrum would not go unpunished. "You listen to me right now Isabelle Marie." Jane responded in a very quiet, serious voice. "I don't know what the heck is going on with you right now. But this is utterly unacceptable attitude from a young lady like yourself. And it was not how I raised you." Jane began speaking a little louder, if only to be loud enough to be heard over Isabelle's sobbing. "This little fit, I won't listen to it. If you want to tell me what's actually going on, then I am happy to listen. But you are obviously not ready to." Isabelle's sobbing got louder, and now her rose was running. Jane turned and grabbed some tissues, handing them to her daughter like an olive branch. Jane continued "I have a lot to do her to make YOU a special meal," she said emphasizing the word 'you,' "Because despite your little tantrum, I am still proud of you." Isabelle finally met her eye, and Jane could see how flustered she was. "You are going to go upstairs. Now. Shower. Cool off. Think about what you've said and done today. And then we are going to enjoy dinner together. Am I clear?" Isabelle was in shambles. Her mom hadn't spoken to her like that in, well, she couldn't even remember how long it had been. But Isabelle knew she was right. Even if Isabelle didn't want to admit it. And her suggestion was the smart thing to do. She could return downstairs later, and have a civil conversation with her mom about this. I mean, of course her mom knew she wasn't 16 anymore. But that wasn't what Isabelle did. She persisted. "But Mom.....This isn't fair. Its. Not. Fair." Isabelle said between tears. "I am the one being used as a PUNCH LINE right now." Isabelle couldn't go on further. She could no longer control the tears, and through them, could only repeat the single phrase 'is...not..faiw"..... Jane had now had enough. "Apparently, I was not clear. UPSTAIRS NOW ISABELLE MARIE. I don't want to hear a WORD out of you until I come and fetch you like the ungrateful little girl you are behaving like." Jane then grabbed Isabelle by the wrist, and proceeded to drag her to the staircase, tears and all, and gave her a gentle shove up the stairs. "Not. Until. I. Come. Get. You." Jane punctuated each word. Isabelle stomped her feet up each stair, as her mom returned to the kitchen to work on dinner. Isabelle turned into her room, threw her bag and schedule on the ground, and then threw herself on her bed face first. Isabelle proceeded to kick her feet up and down, followed by grabbing a pillow and screaming into it. 'What is...snif...sniff.....What is going on with me?!?!?" Isabelle cried, over and over again into her pillow. Her mind was racing. First Smith. Then her friends. Now her Mom. Everyone was treating her like a......well, like she was younger. What the hell was going on? Was it coordinated, like she suspected. 'It can't be....they would never do that..." Was this just another one of her 'fantasies'....'No...those have always been good, this...this is torture.' Isabelle was getting angrier and angrier. 'I need to calm down,' she thought. 'This is all just too much..' It would be at least an hour before she calmed down, at least enough to turn over in the bed and sit up. In truth, Isabelle had no idea how much time had passed, but she was finally feeling more herself. Slowly, she started undressing, removing her slippers and the rest of her ballet clothes, deciding to get into a shower. 'Maybe the hot water will help me feel better,' she thought. Now undressed, Isabelle made her way into the bathroom, and started the shower. She sat on the toilet while the water warmed up, having a long pee, and starting to make a plan on how to proceed forward. Isabelle wiped, and moved into the shower, letting the warm water sooth her swollen face, her aching body, and hopefully, her ailing mind. 'This whole situation is obviously ridiculous' she thought, beginning to soak her hair in the warm water. 'I just need to calm down enough to have a civil conversation about it. I have no idea why I got so mad downstairs...but I wasn't nice to mom.' Isabelle grabbed her shampoo, and started lathering her hair. It felt good to massage her scalp. Her head had started feeling a bit better, but now, was starting to act up again. 'I just need to talk to mom and let her know what's been happening. I mean, obviously she hasn't forgotten about all my classes and performances last year. I can just talk to her about how I - ... ... Why does this keep happening?' Isabelle's head was pounding again, but more concerning was the fact that she couldn't remember.....anything from her junior year. Isabelle was trying, as hard as she could, to remember performances, or classes, teacher's names.....but every detail escaped her. She could....think of generalities; memories of being at Higgins with Lola and Dani, memories of laughing, and practicing dance, memories of...of....of being at home with her mom. But the details, they were all......fuzzy again. Doubt began to seep in, and Isabelle's heart was racing again. 'What is happening to me....I need to figure out what's going on.' But Isabelle was lost about how she would do that. She needed help. Needed guidance. But who on earth could she tell about what was going on. 'Mom' she concluded, sighing and accepting her fate. "I'll need to confide in mom.' Simply accepting that fact started to make Isabelle feel better, and she grabbed the bottle of soap, and started washing her body. 'She'll understand, or at the very least...she'll listen.' Isabelle concluded. This had to be the best course of action. What else could she do. Isabelle washed her body off, and washed the shampoo out of her hair. She quickly applied conditioner, and grabbed a razor, intending to start shaving her legs. It was more a habit than anything, but as she raised her left leg, she noticed there was barely any hair. 'Odd.' Isabelle thought, not connecting it to anything else. This too, Isabelle shrugged off. She had never been particularly hairy, but she usually had to shave her legs about once a week, and it had almost been 10 days. 'I'll take the win' she concluded. Isabelle finished getting the conditioner out of her hair, and then turned the water off, grabbing a towel off of the rack near the tub. Isabelle dried her body off, and stepped out of the shower, and briskly walked to her bedroom, feeling the contrasting cold air of the house cooling her body from the steamy shower. Isabelle finished drying herself off, grabbing a pair of sweatpants from her dressed, and a simple t shirt. She slipped the t shirt on, which basically hung on her like a dress, and wrapped her hair up in a towel to dry. Isabelle then slipped on the pants, having to tie the drawstring up so that they would stay up. She was happy to be in her 'comfies' as her mom would say, and she decided to lay down on her bed, letting her mind rest. Isabelle must have dozed off, because she was startled at her mom's knock at her door. Isabelle sat up abruptly on her bed, her face still puffy from all the crying. "Iz. Can I come in?" Her mom was using her gentle voice, Isabelle noted. "Ye...Yeah..." Isabelle responded, shaking off the remnants of her slumber. Jane walked into the room and sat down on the edge of Isabelle's bed. Jane put her hand on Isabelle's leg, just below her knee, holding her. The instant touch of her mom put Isabelle at ease. 'Now is my chance, I'll let her know what's going on.' Isabelle concluded, but before she could, her mom started. "Sweetie. I know you have had a challenging week. And It must be hard with so much changing around you." Jane began. Isabelle recognized she would need to wait to get her piece in, so sat there quietly, listening to her mom. "You're starting a big year at Higgins, your closest friends are graduating this year, you had a huge showcase today, and it's a lot for one little - my little girl I mean - to deal with." Jane's smile never wavered, and she now gripped Isabelle's leg with a little more force. "But what happened downstairs was not okay. You know we don't speak like that in this house. I don't know what happened to you. Maybe today wasn't everything you wanted it to be, but it sounded like you did great." Isabelle's head bowed now. Her mom was right. Isabelle had been out of line. "I want you to look at me Isabelle," her mom said, and then waited. It took Isabelle everything she had left in the tank - emotionally and physically - to lift her head up and meet her mom's gaze. "I want you to listen to me, really listen to me," Jane continued "As you grow up - and yes, you're still growing up - things are going to happen to you. Things are going to happen around you. Things you cannot explain. Things you don't always understand, or that don't make sense. And you won't be able to control it all. And that is really hard to accept." Isabelle's mind was starting to activate again - 'does mom know what's happening?' Isabelle wondered. Jane was not finished though. "But the truth is sweetie, what you're going to have to learn to do, what a grown up learns to do" Isabelle did not miss her mom's emphasis on the word 'grown up' when she was speaking, "..is that you need to accept the things that are happening, let them happen, all of it. And once you do, you can learn how to deal with those things. Once you sit back, and reflect and think about what is happening, and why it is happening, you'll be able to come up with solutions to these issues you are having. You'll learn to make the best of each and every situation. And in the end, you'll be happier. I promise. As soon as you accept it, all of it, you will find joy you didn't realize was there." Isabelle sat in silence after her mom finished. 'Accept it? But what was happening to her was not...normal. What was going on was not normal. Worse yet, her mom was confirming what she feared - that everyone thought she was younger than she was.' ... .... 'Was she?' ... .."Mom...I just..." Isabelle thought about what she wanted to say. She had intended to tell her mom what was going on. But after what her mom had just said...She would be doing the opposite. She would be resisting. And that would...not be grown up of her?' Isabelle reflected, before continuing. "I....I am sorry about yelling at you. And swearing. I was not nice. And you were nothing but nice to me. I'm sorry mom." Isabelle bowed her head again. She was embarrassed about what had happened. "It's okay sweetie. Now is there anything else you want to talk about?" Isabelle thought hard about how she wanted to answer this question. Maybe it was time to tell her mom what was going on. Everything. The dancing. How everyone was treating her. All of it. But maybe it was not the time. Maybe, just maybe, her mom was right. 'Maybe I need to accept what is going on...and that will allow me to solve it. Maybe in all my anger and frustration, I am overlooking a simple answer to all of this. Maybe....Maybe mom is right.' "No mom. Nothing else. I'm...I'm just sorry." Isabelle lunged into her mom, giving her a big hug, her towel falling to the ground and her hair falling with it. She held her mom long and hard; the hug was making her feel better, making her head feel better. Making...everything better. "Okay sweetie. Now let's go downstairs. You're special spaghetti and meatballs from scratch is ready. Let's celebrate my wonderful Izzy and all she's done today!' 'That does sound nice,' Isabelle thought. 'And spaghetti and meatballs are just the best!' 10 Link to comment
kerry Posted March 22, 2023 Share Posted March 22, 2023 How young will she get? I wonder. I also wonder why her clothing always seems too big; why doesn't it change as she grows younger? Link to comment
BabySofia Posted March 22, 2023 Share Posted March 22, 2023 I'm with Kerry wondering how young she'll get. I think the babysitting duties at the beginning of the story were a clue there though! I'm curious if she stays big enough, long enough, to find out how she did! Looking forward to more! ? Link to comment
rather Posted April 5, 2023 Share Posted April 5, 2023 I have really enjoyed this story and can't wait for it to continue. I'll be honest, I refresh it every couple of days hoping for an update. Link to comment
keith60 Posted April 5, 2023 Share Posted April 5, 2023 i thought this was a diaper story Link to comment
Kotatsu Posted April 5, 2023 Share Posted April 5, 2023 5 hours ago, keith60 said: i thought this was a diaper story It's a slow burn story. Link to comment
Olympiczero Posted April 6, 2023 Author Share Posted April 6, 2023 On 4/4/2023 at 9:54 PM, rather said: I have really enjoyed this story and can't wait for it to continue. I'll be honest, I refresh it every couple of days hoping for an update. You're very kind! I apologize to those readers who have been waiting a while. I know the feeling, and I always hated it! I have a few chapters prepared, but have not had the chance to read through and edit. I have been travelling to see family and had some work conflicts the last few weeks. But they will come! On 4/5/2023 at 11:45 AM, keith60 said: i thought this was a diaper story 23 hours ago, Kotatsu said: It's a slow burn story. It is, or more accurately, will be, a diaper story! I know slow stories aren't for all, but I hope you stick around for the journey! Link to comment
FloridaKid Posted April 12, 2023 Share Posted April 12, 2023 Glad to hear it’s on your radar. I’ve been checking every couple of days, too. Looking forward to updates, but understand that real life happens. 🙂 Link to comment
keith60 Posted April 12, 2023 Share Posted April 12, 2023 i hope there is more to this story soon Link to comment
Olympiczero Posted April 19, 2023 Author Share Posted April 19, 2023 Thank you for your patience with me and this story. Some rather serious family matters came up - but everything will be okay. I hope you enjoy. The Ballet Slippers - Chapter 13 Isabelle went to sleep that night with her stomach full, and her mind even fuller. After speaking with her mom, Isabelle had elected to keep whatever was happening to herself. In truth, her mom had given her a lot to think about, and Isabelle wanted to reflect on how to move forward before saying anything to anyone. Isabelle's plan, however, was stymied by her exhaustion. Between the showcase, her fight with her mom, and the remarkably heavy dinner, the moment Isabelle returned to her room, intending to lay down for only minutes, she fell into a deep, restful sleep. Isabelle had not, in fact, anticipated how tired she was. Her sleep was deep, dreamless, undisturbed, and in a manner, pitiful. Her body and mind were wiped, and the heavy sleep came on without notice. In the morning, however, Isabelle woke with a start. She turned and saw that her clock said it was 6:30 AM - 'Nearly 10 hours of sleep' she concluded. Perhaps it was the contrast between the dead sleep and being wide awake that shocked her. Perhaps it was that she was starting to feel more herself this morning. Isabelle shook off the remnants of her slumber, her head feeling much better today. 'Today will be better' she thought. It was at that moment that Isabelle came to a realization. It had neither been the contrast of sleep or the fact that she was feeling better that woke her. No, it was her bladder, desperate to relieve itself. Isabelle felt a sharp pain in her abdomen, not appreciating how badly she needed to go. 'Oh god." Isabelle popped out of the bed, and started toward the bathroom. The sudden movement jolted her bladder more, and embarrassingly enough, before she opened the door to the bathroom, a few droplets of her pee escaped into her pajamas. "oh god...oh god...oh god' Isabelle was panicking. "how is this..' Isabelle strained to keep herself from peeing anymore, as she made her way into the bathroom, and was now pulling her pajama shorts off. '...happening.' Isabelle managed to rip her shorts down her legs, and sit on the toilet before any more pee escaped her, instead landing squarely in the toilet. Isabelle was out of breath, and worked at just catching it while she sat peeing for a lengthy time. 'Gross,' she thought, looking down at the inside of her pajama shorts and seeing the more-than-a-few wet spots that escaped in their urgency. She slipped the shorts off and kicked them to the side. Isabelle wiped and flushed, and having calmed down, stood up to brush her teeth and wash her face. As she put her toothbrush into her mouth, Isabelle looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were still puffy from crying last night, and though she slept a long time, her eyes did not look well rested. Her clean, but messy blond hair was fallen around her face, and had a slight curl to it this morning. She noticed it was falling below her shoulder, 'a little long' Isabelle noted, 'but I actually like it." there would be no need to cut it for a little while longer. Isabelle rinsed her mouth, and then started washing her face, hoping the cool water would sooth her puffy cheeks. Isabelle continued looking at herself in the mirror, noticing the unusually prominent freckles on her cheeks, and notably rounder shape to her face. 'Must be a product of crying all night,' she concluded, and proceeded to wash her face, letting the cool water soothe her inflamed cheeks. It did in fact feel better. Isabelle made her way back to her room, grabbing some simple panties and sweatpants from her dresser. Isabelle then made her way down the stairs, and opened the front door, grabbing the newspaper. It felt like a cooler fall day than the warm days of summer, and Isabelle was beginning to accept that the long warm days would soon be replaced by darker nights and cooler skies. Isabelle closed the door behind her, taking the paper with her to the kitchen. Isabelle went about her morning as usual. She started the coffee machine, and made a note on a nearby pad that the ground coffee was almost out. Her mom would need to get some more next time she went to the store. Isabelle then went into the pantry, looking for something to eat this morning. To her astonishment, she found a box of "Leprechaun Runes," her once upon a time favorite breakfast. "Not sure what compelled mom to buy these, but not complaining,' Isabelle thought, as she opened the box and poured the cereal into a bowl with some milk. After enough coffee was brewed, Isabelle went to grab a mug from the cupboard. She opened it up, and was disappointed to find that there were no mugs on the lower shelf. Isabelle instead turned her attention to the non-matching mugs on the top shelf. 'The shelf seems outrageously high,' Isabelle thougt to herself. Had her mom adjusted the height of the shelves to make room for other things? Confirming her expectations, Isabelle reached, but did not even come close to being able to reach a mug. In fact, she questioned whether she could reach the top plate on the shelf below it all together. 'Good thing the bowls were on the lower shelf,' she snickered, unconcerned about her inability to reach the mugs. Isabelle turned and went to the fridge, sliding the folded step stool resting between the fridge and the wall, and pulled it out. Isabelle unfolded it below the shelf, climbed up one step.....'maybe two,' Isabelle deflatingly admitted, before stepping up on the second step, reaching... ...and just grabbing the first mug, a bright yellow mug with a smiling Tweety Bird on it. Isabelle descended the steps, careful not to fall, and folded the stepladder back up, returning it to its spot, before completing what turned out to be a rather lengthy morning ordeal just to get coffee. Her cereal sufficiently soaked, and her coffee poured into her smiling bird mug, Isabelle sat down at the counter to enjoy her breakfast. As she was eating, Isabelle was glancing at the newspaper she had retrieved, considering working through the Sudoku. 'Not in the mood she decided.' Her mind was focused on other things, namely, what she was going to do about, well, everything. Isabelle pondered her dilemma as she sorted her marshmallow cereal into groupings, so that each colored and shaped marshmallow were together. That was, of course, the only appropriate way to eat Leprechaun Runes. As she did, Isabelle contemplated the possibilities of what could be happening to her. It was clear that everyone was treating her like she was younger than she really was. That much she had sorted out. But why? The most likely scenario, she concluded, was that her mom, Dani, and Lola were playing some weird game or joke on her. It wouldn't have been tremendously difficult to get Tori to play along - Dani and Lola had been alone with her. But Smith wasn't one for games, and even if her mom and friends had suggested she participate, Smith would never have done so. Why would she? So while this was the most likely scenario, it was also......well just not possible. There were other options, of course. Isabelle was scooping the last of the shooting star runes into her mouth while she considered what they might be. 'I could be dead,' she thought. 'And this is some weird afterlife where I live an eternity two years younger than I am?' Isabelle didn't feel particularly sold on this theory, though she was far calmer about speculating that she might be dead than she would have anticipated. 'At least is would explain this craziness'. And, although it had been some time sicne Isabelle and her mom used were regular church-goers, Isabelle was confident that she had never learned about any strange afterlife like this. So again, not really a possible solution. Isabelle started making her way over to the seven-leaf clover marshmallows, considering other possibilities. 'I could be in a coma,' Isabelle thought. This was more appealing than death of course, but practically speaking, didn't produce any possible courses of action she could take to resolve it. Perhaps the theory was lending her comfort, 'It might make sense....but then, why would this be my coma world?' Isabelle asked herself. 'Plus, I'm pretty sure its hard science that people in comas cannot recognize that they are in comas," Isabelle decided. 'I mean, that's basically a known fact!' So, that couldn't be it. Isabelle was starting to consider more absurd possibilities; falling into wormholes - 'when would that have happened?', contracting some Benjamin Button-esque disease - 'I don't think those are real, but maybe I should pick up a book at the library' and even going so far as to consider the most absurd of possibilities like magic or witchcraft - 'that would be the day.' Then there was the other possibility - maybe, just maybe - this was who she was. Maybe Isabelle was a sophomore...It seemed so....so impossible. Because she knew, in her head, that she was a Higgins senior, set to graduate. Yet at the same time, part of her also felt that was....was wrong. Part of her felt that....that maybe what was happening.....maybe it was...it was.....'supposed to be this way.' Her head began hurting her as she tried to reflect on this idea. Certainly she could disprove it, but every time she tried, 'I just...can't for some reason. Even if I know its not right...' 'Whatever it is,' Isabelle decided, "I need to figure it out a little bit better before I bring it up to mom." Perhaps her mom's conversation with her last night rang true: 'Being grown up means accepting what is happening, and then figuring it out by myself.' Isabelle confidently thought. Whether she understood what her mother's message really meant, that was all together another story. Isabelle was so lost in thought, she had no idea her mom had entered the kitchen. Jane came up from behind Isabelle, gave her a little kiss on the cheek, before smiling and simply saying "good morning." Isabelle was so startled she nearly fell out of her chair! Once Isabelle recovered though, she smiled back and replied "good morning mom." Jane was obviously dressed for work, but Isabelle asked anyway "Off to work mom?" as Isabelle was just wrapping up the last of her candy cane marshmallow from her breakfast bowl. Jane poured herself some coffee in a to-go mug, turned back to her daughter, and replied "Yes, and I'm running late actually. Please make sure to tidy up around here before I get home. Love you!' And just like that Jane was out the door. Isabelle, meanwhile, barely acknowledged her mom's dictation, instead focusing on snapping up the last of the remaining runes, before turning to her sudoku, and push her bowl of leftover milk out further onto the island to make room for her puzzle. Isabelle had been at it for about 30 minutes before she inserted the last number - "Got it!" - and triumphantly threw her arms up into the air, dropping her pen on the floor. With no plans for the day, Isabelle rotated between her favorite lazy day activities. School would be starting next week, and she wanted to take advantage of every minute of free time possible. Isabelle passed the rest of the morning watching a movie in the basement, followed by warming some leftovers from last night for lunch. After inhaling her lunch, she pushed the dish and her napkin out on the kitchen counter. Isabelle then went to the living room and got comfortable on the couch, getting lost in a few more chapters of "The Emerald Chronicles." As her mind wandered away from her world and into the Emerald Kingdoms, all of her concerns of the morning washed away. 'Who cares anyway what people think I am?' Isabelle thought. 'Princess Henrietta has never cared, and she's like, the coolest girl ever.' Isabelle found comfort in this world - which frankly, made more sense to her than her own sometimes. Isabelle finally started to feel more relaxed with herself, having dispelled her concerns over her perceived age, at least for now. Her book was a savior of sorts, distracting her from the world around her, and allowing her to transport her mind, body, and soul into a narrative that felt better. It is only truly special writing that ever allowed her to do that, and at that moment, she didn't care what anyone thought - The Emerald Chronicles did that for her. Part of Isabelle wanted to finish her whole book that afternoon. But another part of her couldn't bear to already be finished with it. Deciding that she wanted to save a few chapters and savor her book, Isabelle put the Everlasting Night down and decided to head back downstairs to flip through some television. Before she did so, she stopped in the kitchen, pulled a box of cookies out of the cupboard, grabbing a few and setting the rest down next to the sink. Isabelle then opened the fridge, pulling out some milk and pouring it directly into her coffee mug. 'Nothing like milk and cookies' she thought, setting the milk container down on the counter and closing the fridge behind her. Cookies and milk in hands, Isabelle headed down to the basement to waste her remaining hours of the afternoon away. Isabelle settled herself onto the couch, and grabbed the TV remote, nuzzling herself into a comfortable position. As she was scrolling through the guide, Isabelle was disappointed with her options: 'Seen it. Don't wanna. Don't wanna. Ugh...what's that. Boring. Boring Boring. More Boring.' There was simply nothing worth watching. Until... Isabelle happened upon a show title she had not seen in some time. 'Wow. They actually still air "Rover-Roo and the Cluefinders!"' Isabelle thought to herself. ' I haven't seen this since I was....wow a long time.' It had been her favorite childhood show, a cartoon about a trusty golden retriever named Rover and his band of cluefinders, who worked to solve silly conundrums that took place in their local town "Awesomeville." Having seen nothing else that she wanted to watch - and admittedly, her interest being piqued - Isabelle turned the television show on. The animation had certainly been updated. And though it had been some time, Isabelle was quite certain this was a reboot and she had never seen the episode before. Before she knew it, Isabelle's attention had been fully captured by the show. Rover-Roo was apparently on some sort of marathon, and Isabelle allowed herself, episode after episode, to become more enamored with the show. As the episodes ran, Isabelle dunked her cookies into her milk, chomping down her lactose soaked treats. Before she knew it, her cookies were finished, and she elected to guzzle down the rest of the milk, cookie crumbs and all. "ahhhhhh! delicious!" she concluded, setting the glass down next to her on the couch. Rover-Roo continued to play, and interesting, Isabelle played along. Isabelle was completely ensnared by each episode, getting more and more invested as it played, and trying to solve each conundrum herself. In fact, she was shocked at a few of the revelations, failing more often than not to identify the crafty conundrum culprit! "Maybe if I had the skills of Rover-Roo and his band, I'd be able to solve what was going on with me' Isabelle thought. "Wouldn't that make things easier...' As the hours passed, Isabelle got more and more comfortable in the couch. She and without knowing it, fell asleep right then and there, as Rover-Roo continued to solve crimes in the background, and her empty milk glass tumbling down beside her. Isabelle fell away into a world of dreams. She had slept so well the night before, it was odd that she was here sleeping again. Then again, such is the way of the lazy day in. Her dreams took her from place to place; to the Emerald Kingdom to hang out with princesses, to Awesomeville to solve crimes, and of course, back to school, to her dance performance. Unlike her waking mind, her dream mind seemed at peace, with each place she went to. Even as Isabelle relived her performance, seeing her friends' gazes again as she wrapped up her performance, she felt nothing but an utter certainty - a certainty that all would be well. It was then that her certainty dissipated. Isabelle was started awake by the sound of her name being called. "ISABELLE - WHAT ON EARTH!?" .... ..... 'Wha.....Wha......Whas going on......' Isabelle thought, rubbing her eyes awake. Then she heard it again. "ISABELLE. Get down here NOW!" ... .... It was her mom, calling her. 'She must think I am upstairs,' Isabelle concluding, continuing to emerge from her dream world, where the boundaries between reality and imagination were blurred, disoriented as to what was real around her and what was not. "Isabelle! This instant!" 'That was certainly real,' Isabelle noted the anger in her mom's voice. "Coming Mom! I'm down here!" Isabelle shouted back, with as much energy as she could muster. It was at that moment that Isabelle noticed she had a second problem; she really needed to pee. Between her mom yelling at her, the haze of waking up, and her now aching.....'wow seriously, I really need to go'.....bladder, she was starting to get a little grumpy. 'This was not how I wanted to wake up.' Isabelle lifted herself off of the couch, and looked back, noting that her glass had tipped over while she slept. Whatever milk had been leftover in the glass, and a few crumbs, had left a wet spot on the couch where they had spilled out. Isabelle saw it, and then grabbed her glass, paying no attention to the stain on the couch. In fact, the thought had not even occurred to her that she had left the stain - all she could muster was merely noting it was there. It was only as she stood, however, that Isabelle began to appreciate the severity of her situation. Her bladder was absolutely begging to release, and release it would, whether she wanted to or not. Isabelle contemplated rushing to the bathroom, but even the thought of moving quickly was out of the question. 'Inch along.....just Inch along' Isabelle reminded herself, shimmying her way toward the staircase. Isabelle had one thing on her mind, and one thing only. Pee. Suddenly, though, she was reminded of another issue. "Isabelle Marie. Get. Up. Here. Now!" Despite her mother's repeated calls, Isabelle's bladder had occupied her mind to such a degree, she had all but forgotten her mother was calling her. But Jane had just reminded her: she had two problems to deal with. Isabelle made her way to the stairs, climbing one step at a time, careful not to spread one leg too far from the other out of fear that the proverbial tank may spill. 'How.....how is this happening to me.....This was now the second time today this happened. What was going on?' Unfortunately, there was no time to answer that question. More immediate needs had to be addressed. 'Just one stair at a time. Up one two. Up one two. ohmygod.' Isabelle was not confident shew as going to make it. 'I had one friggin glass of milk!' Isabelle was so completely focused on not peeing, that she didn't notice her mom standing at the top of the stairs, arms crossed, tapping her foot, looking down at her daughter. Isabelle looked up, met her mom's eyes, and quickly tried to cover up her strange walking behavior. "Hey mom. What's going on?" Jane looked down at her daughter, furious. She was about to chastise her when, she stopped for a moment, noticing her daughter acting.....no....walking strangely. But this was no time to pay attention to that, she reminded herself. Strange walking is no excuse for what she just saw. "What is up, Isabelle, is that you left a disaster in the kitchen. Cereal bowl on the counter. Milk out of the fridge. Cookie box opened next to the sink. Lunch bowl out. And you left all the leftovers on the counter! What on earth did you do in there? I asked you to do one thing today! Just clean! Come on Iz... It looks like the kids you babysit ran rampant in there!" Isabelle stopped on the staircase, ducking her head and starring at her feet. She was embarrassed. No, not embarrassed. Humiliated. She didn't remember leaving such a mess. But then again, she was pretty sure she left all the things her mom said were out, out. "Sorry mom....." Isabelle mumbled, feeling flush and embarrassed. "I just forgot I guess.... I didn't mean to." The shame of her mess did nothing to alleviate the ache in her bladder, and at that moment, Isabelle was unsure she had the strength both to not cry, and to not pee. Worst of all, she wasn't quite sure she didn't want to just quit and do both.... 'No! That's.....That's absurd. I am not going to cry....AND I AM MOST CERTAINLY NOT GOINT TO PEE MYSELF!" Isabelle turned even more red at the idea that her priority seemed to have been not crying, rather than not peeing. Isabelle tried to discreetly cross her legs even tighter than they already were. Jane's fury had somewhat subsided. The sight of her daughter on the stairs, metaphorically shrinking before her, and crossing her legs, brought back memories of her as a little girl, when she would.....well no matter. Isabelle seemed sufficiently disappointed with herself, and Jane decided to allow her daughter an out, but not without stressing consequences for the future. "Well, go get in there now and clean. I'm going upstairs to change. And by the time I get down, everything better be put away. You are not to do a single thing until that kitchen is spotless. Or you aren't going to that sleepover with Dani and Lola they were so nice to invite you to tomorrow night!" Isabelle's face shot up, and froze. The flush that was once in her face was erased, overcome by a frozen fear and paleness. If her mom was even contemplating, let alone actually speaking, a threat to her sleepover, she meant business. Nothing else mattered now. She would clean, no matter what it took. No matter what. Isabelle squeaked out an "yes mum" as Jane turned and headed up to her room. Jane was giving her an out, but she was serious. If her daughter didn't clean the kitchen by the time she was back down, Isabelle wouldn't be going to the sleepover. Isabelle knew her mom was serious. It took everything she had, but she pinched her bladder and scurried up the stairs and darted into the bathroom. Each movement, each step, shifted her at-capacity bladder, the weight of which Isabelle felt with her every fiber. Isabelle managed to make her way into the kitchen without peeing, and went straight to work. Isabelle grabbed the milk container, and opened the fridge, practically throwing it in. 'Why on earth did I even leave this out to begin with?' Isabelle, in truth, was disappointed in herself. The kitchen really was filthy.....how had she forgotten? Isabelle processed this thought just as another unbearable ping from her bladder caused her knees to keel, and she bent over just in time to prevent herself from releasing her bladder. 'Come on...Come on you can do this.....' Isabelle grabbed the leftovers she ate for lunch, and placed them in the fridge as well, before closing it up behind her. Isabelle shimmied her way over to the sink and grabbed the open box of cookies, proceeding to close it before shifting her way over to the pantry to put them away. A second unbearable ping from her bladder told her she did not have much time left. Isabelle could not remember being in this much pain or this desperate for the toilet. 'Deep Breath Iz...You're almost done." Turning back to the counter, Isabelle identified her two bowls - one from breakfast, and one from lunch - that needed to be cleaned. Bent over and hunched, Isabelle made her way to the lunch bowl, grabbed it, and turned toward the sink to give it a quick rinse. As she turned on the faucet, Isabelle immediately regretted it. The sound of the running water did her bladder no favors. Isabelle barely let the water run into the bowl, before pulling open the dishwasher. 'The dishwasher will have to do the bulk of the work on this,' Isabelle concluded. Turning back to her cereal bowl, Isabelle immediately regretted not turning the sink off, the echo of the water making her pain - and resistance - exponentially harder to contain. Isabelle grabbed the bowl with one hand, handed it to the other, and basically threw the remaining milk toward the sink. It was a miracle, in fact, that it landed in the sink. Holding the bowl, Isabelle starred down at the dishwasher. She was convinced she didn't have any time left. Her bladder was at the end, and here she was, one feat away from being able to get the relief she so desperately needed in the bathroom. Isabelle slid the bowl into a slot, and then starred down at the dishwasher door. She would need to close it, she realized, but it was just out of her grasp. Isabelle contemplated using her foot to lift the door up, and close it with her hand, but was convinced even lifting a foot off of the ground would result in her bladder emptying then and there. She needed to sort this out. If Isabelle was ever provided the opportunity to be a fly on the wall at this moment, she would have scoffed at the idea that, first of all, she would ever be in this position, but second, that she ever, ever would have done what she did next. Because there was no sense to what she did. It was, perhaps. the worst possible thing she could have done. What compelled her to do so, she could not tell you. But what she can tell you is that, what she did do, was a mistake. Isabelle decided the best course of action, to close this door, and complete her cleaning tasks, was none other than to squat down, and lift the door up. Whether it was her ballet training, her mind racing in the moment, or purely just the worst idea she had ever had, that was the tactic Isabelle went with. For soem reason, in the haze of the event, Isabelle had not considered that squatting would literally force her legs apart, the only thing currently clogging her bladder. But Isabelle was not thinking clearly, that much was obvious. So, Isabelle, now convinced her plan was, well, not crazy, dropped into a perfectly elegant squat, proudly reaching the dishwasher, before throwing it up in relief of completing her task. "Ahhhhhhhh" But it was not the relief from the task that resulted in her audible relief. Rather, as soon as Isabelle descended into her squat, a burst of warm pee broke the dam, and released straight into her panties. Whether it was the pee, or simply having closed the dishwasher, Isabelle immediately popped up and forced her legs back together, sealing the burst. It didn't occur to Isabelle what had happened immediately. In fact, all she could focus on in the immediate moments after popping upright was that she had successfully cleaned the kitchen. But, after a few seconds, the horror of what occurred hit her, forcing Isabelle to shove her legs together even tighter. The warm burst of wetness that had escaped into her panties had transitioned into a cool reminder of her abject failure, and droplets started running down her legs. Now, she really did just want to cry. Realizing, however, that far greater tragedy could still come, Isabelle managed to hold back the tears, and began making her way toward the bathroom on the main floor, just as she heard her mom descending the stairs. "Isabelle - is everything put away?" Her mom's voice echoed toward her. 'The only thing that could possible be worse than actually peeing yourself would be someone finding out,' Isabelle thought. With whatever strength she had left, Isabelle darted toward the bathroom, narrowly missing her mom on the way. Isabelle barely bothered to shut the door behind her, turning her butt toward the toilet seat, and tearing her now damp sweatpants and wet panties down her legs, releasing a gyser of pee into the toilet bowl before she even managed to sit on the toilet seat. "AhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhooowoowowwwwwGooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooood!" It was pure blissful relief. Isabelle could imagine no better feeling. At that moment, it didn't matter that she had not completely made it in time, that she had wet panties, that she had actually wet her pants or even been in position to allow what happened happen. All that mattered was that, well, she got to pee. 'This is, perhaps, the greatest relief ever' Isabelle thought. "Isabelle. Is it clean? I am coming in." Isabelle heard her mom ask from the bottom of the stairs, realizing she had not responded. "Yes Mom! It's clean. I am in the bathroom. I really needed to go!" Jane walked into the kitchen to examine her daughter's work. 'She at least put everything away. But the counters are still dirty - they could have used a wipe.' Jane thought about making a big deal about that, but debated as to whether it was worth it as she sat down at the counter. She sighed, and picked up the unfolded newspaper page with the sudoku Isabelle had finished on it. Jane was continuing to debate what to do, as she surveyed the completed puzzle. 'Boy, she made a lot of mistakes in this. Must have given up. I mean...there are 4 sevens in this row...what on earth.' Deciding to let it go, and give her daughter a break, Jane called back to Isabelle. "It looks okay in here sweetie. Thank you for doing that." Jane was about to turn and leave, before adding one more comment that Isabelle didn't expect. "And if you had to go so bad, you should have peed before you started cleaning. Don't need you making another kind of mess," Jane said jokingly. 8 Link to comment
FloridaKid Posted April 20, 2023 Share Posted April 20, 2023 So glad you got back to this and sincerely hope all is well IRL. Love how Isabelle is questioning the reality warp, but is still uncertain. You’ve hinted that her cognitive ability is slipping a little. I wonder if she’ll even recognize how far she’s gone when it progresses to the point she’s a toddler. Perhaps you’ll have her slip into that mindset altogether and things will remain that way until she grows up again. Whatever direction you take it, you’ve done a nice job so far with the slow burn regression and I am looking forward to future chapters. Link to comment
diaper24/7 Posted April 21, 2023 Share Posted April 21, 2023 This is really to starting to get good with this. Link to comment
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