Just to be clear from the start, this is not an on-going story, but a collection of unrelated prompts from a truly awesome book called 642 Things to Write About. I'll be posting whenever I complete a prompt, for I'm using these as brain exercises while I complete current stories and I wanted somewhere to store them that didn't clog up my memory stick.

#198
What did you wear to prom? How did you get your outfit, and what happened to it?

Mom and I have always had different fashion tastes. She likes greens; I like pinks and purples. She loves floral; I love just plain shades. It is hard to describe exactly what our individual styles are, but take my word for it that they are as opposite as the poles of this Earth.

And today it shows more than ever, for it is finally The Time.

I am fifteen going on sixteen, wandering around my home city's shopping centre in search of my soul mate weaved out of satin, chiffon, or lace.

I scoff. Supposedly every teenage girl looks forward to this day the most during secondary school. Preparing for their very own princess moment; those brief seconds they reveal themselves to the awaiting crowd outside the venue, onlookers oohing and aahing and mumbling to each other as they rank their favourites.

Once upon a time, I too had that special feeling. Wanting to be made the centre of attention, wanting to run for Prom Queen. But I've since realised it's just a petty show of expensive dresses, and it's more for the benefit of the school rather than a celebration for us. What an earth are we going to do when we get inside? I don't dance and I'm trying to watch my weight so I certainly won't be partaking of the so-called buffet.

Wandering from bridal shop to designer shop, desperately trying to locate the one just for that moment is what mom and I are trying to accomplish today. But all I want to do is go home, this whole dress-shopping thing – is not for me.

Over and over and over, every shop and market we visit, just the same thing.

"This one?"

"No."

"How about this one?"

"Mum, no."

Sometimes I don't even take note of the dress itself, so out of the maybe hundred she shows me, there could have been potentials. But I hate shopping. So my stubbornness generates an automatic response. I choose to reject them all and my mood sours as the day goes on until Mum actually gets fed up and takes me home.

About a week or two later, Dad invites me out for lunch - just the two of us. We end up in a well-known café in the shopping centre, my father having wanted to nosey around the music stores. We're making our way out when we happen to pass a high street store with a display of dresses in the windows. I take a glance, out of curiosity, and my body instantly freezes as I gaze upon the object of my desire.

My soul mate; crafted for me out of stunning lavender chiffon.

Twenty-four years later…

I fight back tears as I watch them both embrace. As they pull back, her father gently kisses her forehead before wiping a stray tear from her cheek.

Our beautiful girl.

There is a knock at the door and upon being answered, my daughter is lead by the hand of her close friend to an awaiting car. Her father whispers that he'll be waiting for her.

Then suddenly I am there. My old secondary school looks much the same as it did when I was there, though the numerous people gathered I barely recognise. A black limo pulls up and the driver steps out and opens the door, allowing the passengers out.

Lavender chiffon precedes her beautifully woven brunette hair. The crowd applauds and her radiant smile widens, and upon catching her father's eye she stands up little straighter. It is minute, barely noticeable, but enough for me to tell what both she and my beloved husband are feeling. I feel it too.

I may not have been bothered back in the day. But as I see her proud smile and adore her from my place in the sky, my place of residence for the past six years, I understand.

Her princess moment is here.