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The Celebration
#WritcoStoryPrompt42
She chose her cleanest piece of clothing to wear. It was a festival afterall and she wanted to celebrate with everyone else. When she stepped into the street a speeding car drove by splashing dirty water on her.
A tear fell down her cheek. The poor had no right to celebrate here.
The proletariat had worked hard to put together the celebration but the bourgeoisie had done everything to make them feel low. Her stained dress a symbol of it. The black car sped off leaving only a trail of red lights in its path like evil menacing eyes casting further disdain.
Judy brushed the dirt off her dress and composed herself, brushing away the tear. She was not going to go back and change into something less than fantastic, though drenched in mud. She trained her eyes on the lights of the parade dangling in the streets and marched dripping in mud to dance among her people.
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She chose her cleanest piece of clothing to wear. It was a festival afterall and she wanted to celebrate with everyone else. When she stepped into the street a speeding car drove by splashing dirty water on her.
A tear fell down her cheek. The poor had no right to celebrate here.
The proletariat had worked hard to put together the celebration but the bourgeoisie had done everything to make them feel low. Her stained dress a symbol of it. The black car sped off leaving only a trail of red lights in its path like evil menacing eyes casting further disdain.
Judy brushed the dirt off her dress and composed herself, brushing away the tear. She was not going to go back and change into something less than fantastic, though drenched in mud. She trained her eyes on the lights of the parade dangling in the streets and marched dripping in mud to dance among her people.
© All Rights Reserved
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