The holiday season is filled with chilly weather, twinkling lights, and many stories to tell. To celebrate, the Lightridge Writing Center hosted a winter-themed writing contest, open to students that wanted to capture the essence of this season through writing.
We are thrilled to announce the winner of this contest: Hassi Kalisetty, a junior. Her piece is titled “The Winter Dance,” and can be read below.
“The Winter Dance”
The snowflakes gently rain down on the drowsy town of Greenville as the people are bustling with excitement for the Annual Winter Dance, that’s held in the old community barn. The women decked out in gorgeous gowns and flawless frocks, the men wore stunning suits with dashing ties. People outside slowly made their way in all snuggled up in thick coats and warm scarves, to block out the cold.
Lucy wanted none of it. She just wanted to stay home, chill all warm and cozy in her bed watching TV, eating her microwaved ramen, and endlessly scrolling through instagram on this cold winter saturday. But no, unfortunately she got roped into helping organize the dance because her best friend, Charlie, who conveniently “forgot” to mention he was actually not even gonna be in town the day of the ball he took a trip to Florida! Lucy cursed at him under her breath. What a jerk, she thought she could just imagine him sitting on the plane with a smug grin on his face laughing at the idea of her having a mental tweak out, having to actually socialize with other people. Lucy despised crowds, small talk, and most importantly, dancing. Which wasn’t helping her current situation. But she did absolutely love the variety of party attire, as an aspiring fashion designer she made sure to take note of the different clothes everyone wore. The second since she entered her eyes were immediately drawn to people’s clothing. There was one lady with a dark purple garment that was long and elegant, the satin gracefully draping down her shoulders with a little slit on the side, there was another lady with a light sea green garment that was very cute with an asymmetrical styling, it was shorter than the other lady’s dress and the woman wore a dazzling diamond necklace with it.
“Excuse me,” came a voice from behind her. Lucy turned around to see a guy around her age , wearing a crooked bowtie and a plaid blue suit. The combo was certainly eye catching.., not in a good way though. His round Harry Potter glasses were fogged up at the sudden warmth that came from the barn and his hair was a mess to say the least. Lucy snorted a small laugh at the fashion catastrophe she was currently facing, but in realizing the guy was looking at her she immediately readjusted her expression to remain calm. “Sorry. Do you know if this punch is safe? Last year it was spiked with hot sauce.” He asked. Calm facade immediately out the window Lucy burst into tears laughing at a question she did not expect to come out of someone’s mouth ever.
“Are you serious?” She asked, as she continued to choke her laugh.
“Unfortunately, yes.” He held up the punch ladle like a dangerous weapon. “I now have PTSD from communal beverages.”
“That’s rough buddy.” Lucy said, amused. She grabbed a cup gesturing to him to pour her some punch. “What do you say, I’ll be your test subject then?”
He looked at her with feigned solemnity. As he began pouring her some punch he said,
“You’re very brave. It turns out to be a bust, I’ll.. uh buy you some ice cream or something”
Lucy laughed again. She was having fun with this conversation with the fashion catastrophe.
“Ice cream in the snow? Interesting. Don’t worry, I think I’ll survive.” Then she took a sip and gave a thumbs up in approval, “Haha there’s no hot sauce, you’re safe for now.”
He grinned, “Good to know. I’m André by the way.”
“I’m Lucy,” she said, also smiling despite herself.
As the night went on Lucy would see André pop up wherever she was: Near the cookie table, commenting on a cookie that looked suspiciously like a pancake; by the photo booth, suggesting the props were “too cliche”; and when the slow song began to play, awkwardly standing in front of her, hands stuffed in pockets
“So,” he said, shuffling his feet. “Don’t like dancing much, huh?”
Lucy feigned a gasp, “How’d you know?”
“You’ve been lurking in the shadows like a vampire afraid of the light.”
Lucy groaned, she really did hate it, “Okay. That’s because I’m actually really bad at it, Like the stepping-on-your-feet-constantly kinda bad.”
“Lucky for you I have steel toed boots,” André said, extending his hand out for Lucy to hold. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”
The dance wasn’t graceful by any means. André tripped over his own feet multiple times, and Lucy kept turning the wrong way. But the music was beautiful, and the barn was filled with laughter and warmth. Somewhere between, André ’s hilarious unfunny jokes and their shared clumsiness, Lucy realized that this was the most fun she’d had in ages. Guess Charlie’s betrayal was actually helpful for once.
When the song ended, they grabbed their jackets and stepped outside for a second for some fresh air. The snowflakes fell with ease, making the sky look alive. They feel thick and slow landing on André’s messy hair.
“You know,” Lucy said as she watched her breath fog up in the air, “this was probably the most fun I’ve ever had at The Winter Dance.”
“Even without the hot sauce punch?”
“Especially without the hot sauce punch,” Lucy responded, smiling.
Under the glow of the barn lights and the slow snowfall, Lucy felt the winter cold melting away into a warmth that filled up her heart with something much nicer.
