By Erin Brandt Filliter
Prisms spun from every rafter in Grandma’s townhouse attic. Sunlight streamed through the dormer windows; the crystal-cut glass threw spotlights around the room.
Cardboard shimmered. Cobwebs glimmered. Dust clouds twirled into sequins.
“Let’s boogie!” She’d wink, spinning ABBA on her Victrola turntable.
We’d dance, socks snagging on unfinished floorboards, until collapsing in a heap of giggles and vintage Polyester.
One afternoon, she tucked a twinkling jewel into my palm. “Don’t let anything dull your groove.”
The day she died, storm clouds blocked the sun. Through blurry tears, I blasted Mamma-Mia, Twisting and Electric Slide-ing, until a rainbow sashayed across the sky.
What an honour to be included here! Thank you!
Absolutely love the use of colors in this!
Beautiful.
Fantastic story, I could see them dancing and feel the pain of the loss. Excellent illustration of showing not telling.
Lovely story. I was a young woman in the disco era so this brought a smile.
Beautiful, like a rare gem.