Prompted by Professor

Okay so my preface to this...

At the beginning of my Composition class my professor who's name I cannot recall for the life of me would give us a writing prompt of some sort and direct us as to what he wanted to come from this object, phrase, etc. One day he came in and placed this atrocious hooker-type stiletto and told us to tell the story behind it. And this is what came out of it for me... I was told that it was well done and I should post it here. So here it goes...







Rita was a Las Vegas show girl. Probably one of the most beautiful girls the business has ever seen. She had emerald green eyes, chestnut brown hair that carelessly waved its way down to the middle of her back, and naturally bronze tanned skin just light enough to let the rosiness of her cheeks shine through. On stage she was beautiful from head to toe; graceful like a swan, stylish like something off a Paris Fashion runway, and captivating with every move she made. But on the streets and in the comfort of her own home it was as if she took on a completely new identity; Almost as if she was Clark Kent at home, and superman at work. Although she still had a beautiful face she wore the most unnatractive and unflattering clothing one could ever imagine. Tim Burton himself could not scheme up such a character in his most bewildered dreams. She wore a turqouise and gold laced long sweater that looked as heavy as a trench coat, along with some type of fire patterned satin pants. People would say that the most grotesque addition to her ensemble was her irredescent green high heels. But every single day she wore the same thing and held her head high past the laughter and snide remarks. One day a bold and intrigued man approached Rita at a local Cafe. Unintimidated by her green heel tapping, raised eyebrow, mysterious appeal the man asked her why she dressed as so when she had the potential to be a model. Her emerald green eyes locked into his as if she didn't even need to speak to make her point, and she softly said "Because I want people to see the beauty behind the beast." From that day on the man started to see what she wanted everyone to see, and then started to see things he didn't want to see. Over time he noticed that Rita was almost always alone, the only time she really "socialized" is when she was working. It pained him to see that not a single person could get past her appearence and give into the mystery of what lay beneath her attire. Years later Rita passed away, and of course as requested was burried in that same outfit. The man from the Cafe was the only person to attend her funeral. When the Preist asked the man why he was the only person at the service, he replied "I'm the only one who saw her beauty, I guess..."