Short Story Challenge #52

Little So-Sew and the Seven Swans

Far away, in the land of big apples, dwelt a dance manager who had seven sons and one daughter. The brothers were dancers, so graceful that everyone knew they were born to be principal dancers. Their sister, called Sophie, watched them from the stage wings every night. She loved to see them fly joyously across the stage. Oh, these were happy days, but they were not always to be so. Lacking money, as all dance companies do, their father decided to marry a very wicked choreographer who had great amounts of money but little love for children. While the other dancers were given lead parts, the seven brothers were sent to the ballet barre. Then, the choreographer banished Sophie to the little costume closet. “Time to earn your keep,” she said. Kept apart, Sophie saw little of her brothers. She became known as Little So-Sew, for her little fingers were nimble, and she made wonderful costumes. But never for her brothers. “They are men,” the choreographer said. “They should wear manly clothes, drab and boring. Not sequins and feathers.” Truly, the wicked creature cursed the brothers to live as ugly ducklings instead of graceful swans.

Years passed. The brothers danced every night for the audiences of the city, yet never as they truly wished. Instead, they were only the muscles and means for other dancers to fly. As for Little So-Sew, she lost much of her youthful beauty. The long hours in the costume closet made her skin as white as snow. Her eyes grew large and luminous in order to see in the dim shadows. Her lips enlarged from the constant licking of the thread. However, her fingers remained nimble and her costumes were the most sought after in all the company.

One day her brothers came to find her in the dark little closet. They begged her to lift the curse upon them. If they did not dance in the fine tutus and feathers for which they longed, they would die. Little So-Sew knew she could never let that happen. “How can I break this spell?” said their sister. They talked about it nearly the whole night, until the rustling of taffeta awakened Little So-Sew as the brothers changed once more and left for rehearsal. As they flitted away, the youngest brother remained behind and laid his head in his sister’s lap while she stroked his fine and perfectly coifed hair. “I must save you,” she whispered to her brother before he left.

From out of the shadows, a fairy appeared, radiant in appearance and very much like a woman. “Your brothers can be released,” he said, “if you have the courage. Do you see these feathers in my hand? You must sew them into seven tutus fit for Swan Lake. Once your brothers appear in these costumes, the spell will be broken. But remember, from the moment you begin this task, should any ask, you cannot tell. Their very careers hang upon your tongue and your fingers.” As he finished speaking, the old fairy lightly touched Little So-Sew’s hand with a feather and disappeared. When her brothers returned to her, they were frightened to find her struck dumb, but seeing the feathers in her hand, they understood. The youngest fell at her feet and wept. Where his tears fell on Little So-Sew’s blisters, they disappeared.

Each night thereafter, once her other work was done, Little So-Sew would return to the closet, pull out the white swan feathers, and fall to work. Her fingers bled, but she worked gladly. One night, a man entered her closet. “How did you come here, my dear?” he asked. But Little So-Sew could only shake her head and indicate the dressing dummies and stacks of cloth. The man smiled kindly. “I am called Prince.” He went on to explain that he was the dance company’s new producer. “Come with me,” he said. “You cannot remain in this closet. I will give you a new costume shop with sewing machines and towers of sorted bins and… and windows!” Little So-Sew only wept and wrung her hands, looking at her feathered tutus. Prince pulled her gently from the closet. “Someday, you will thank me for this.”

The handsome Prince made many changes in the dance company. Every day, he came to see Little So-Sew in her costume shop. How she grew to love him for his kindness and fashion sense. Oh! if only she could confide in him. But he did not ask and she could not tell. As she grew near to completing the seventh tutu, she ran out of feathers. She knew more were in the gleaming costume shop. But how could she steal from the Prince? Then she steeled herself. “I must. My brothers shall not be denied their dream.” Praying for strength, Little So-Sew crept into the shop, silent and dark as a graveyard. She passed the high shelves, with looming bins of cloth and bric-a-brac. She tiptoed past the new machines, enclosed in their dustcovers like tombs. Finally, she reached the feather storage and gathered as many as she needed, no more and no less, and carried them back with her to the closet.

Alas, one person had seen her.

The next night, Little So-Sew moved about the stage, adjusting a hem here and a lace there. Suddenly a voice rang out. “Thief! We have a thief in our midst.” The entire company turned to look at the choreographer. The Prince strode to her. “What is the meaning of this?” he said. “We have a performance of Swan Lake in ten minutes!” The choreographer triumphantly told how Little So-Sew stole the feathers. When the Prince looked at Little So-Sew with disbelief, she could only hang her head, unable to speak a word in her defense.

Suddenly, her brothers leapt onto the stage, circling their sister. The eldest held their feathered tutus in his hands and threw them towards Little So-Sew in a blaze of white. Deftly, she caught them and threw one over each brother's head as he passed. As if by magic, the tutus flowed easily over the brothers, transforming them. Out of the closet at last, the brothers linked arms, standing on-pointe, dressed as swans! Only the youngest continued to molt like the Dying Swan, as Little So-Sew had not had time to sew his feathers tightly.

“Now I may speak,” exclaimed Little So-Sew. “I am innocent.”

“Yes, she is innocent,” said the eldest brother. Then the brothers encircled their sister, hiding her from view. When they stepped back, the little costume hag was transformed into a fabulously beautiful woman with pale skin, dark eyes, and pouty lips. The wicked choreographer ran howling from the stage, never to be seen again. The Prince stepped up to Sophie. “Work for me and we will show the world a Swan Lake such has never been seen before!” Sophie laughed delightedly and turned him down on the spot.

“My dear Prince Trockadero, we owe you much, but my brothers and I have come out of our drab little closet and must find our own way.” Then Sophie grinned up at him. “But how attached are you to your name?”

(Short Story Challenge on My Writers Circle)