Describe the most outrageous thing anyone has dared you to do

It was improbable that anyone had ever dared her to do anything. For one, one look in her eyes would show the inner flint. Unbending and unyielding. There was no way to make her do something she didn't want, for good or for bad. For another, dares are usually products of familiarity. "I dare you throw that rock at the window" or "I dare you walk through the cemetery at night" carry much more gravitas when uttered from a friend, from someone you do not want to lose face in front of, instead of a stranger or just an acquaintance. Yes, dares depend very much on the fear of losing face in front of someone important. Not seeming like a coward to them. And that brings us back to the first point. She was flint inside. That meant few friends, and less than few trying to make her lose face. It seemed like no one had ever dared her do things like children do and that carried on to when she became an adult.

… and there the story ends.

or not…

If the story ended here it would be a cope out; very comfortable for the author, to not have to delve into darker matters. Say it never happened and since a story is based on what happens end it here. Pshaw! Lets get on with it.

The only way to make her do anything was to make her want to do it. Mostly out of love, either love of the other or love of herself.  It’s time to get into the sordid details now. 

Once she wanted to become an author. It was a fervent desire. Since she was practical, she decided to take lessons on becoming an author. She found a teacher in her city and dutifully went to their office once a week. She composed her assignments and presented them in printouts on A4 pieces of paper, printed on one side only. Then she read them aloud in class and dutifully wrote down all comments on her own copy, in the white margins, spiral upon spiral of words, engulfing her printed texts with sloppy handwriting, back and front. She liked the routine of organised learning. Carry out your assignments; accept the feedback graciously – though that was a sore point with her sometimes – then note down the next assignment and so on and on.

Then the teacher had a brilliant idea. “What if we put up a play, consisting of some of your best work?”, he said to the classes. Well, that was the easy part. She fished through her pile of work and found three texts that had gone down well with the assembly. She submitted them and left it at that. Next class, the teacher announced the passages that would appear in the play. One of her own made the grade, passed the mustard, was chosen…

“The people with passages in the play will need to come on Sunday, so that we can discuss about the play”. Sunday came, she went.

In the office there were ten of her fellow students. “Since we are amateurs, you are going to appear in the play yourselves.” No, no , no, no…. NO.  The table was dismantled and set aside. The chairs put up against the walls. Everyone took turns walking to the centre of the room and improvising something.  No, no, no, no…

Better and more willing volunteers were chosen.  She sat on one side and watched them turn her text into part of a play. And she was happy.

Fast forward a few weeks.  The play had grown from the texts submitted; the actors had explored their psyches, to bleeding point sometimes.  She went to the premiere and got goosebumps when her text was read to the – paying – viewers.  Then on the last performance…

“I can’t make it on Friday” said one of the actresses.  “I have to be in Cyprus, then.”

“It’s our last performance. It’d be a pity to cancel. What to do… what to do…”

Then the teacher had a glorious idea. “We will replace her with two people! A man and a woman! One of the male actors and … and… you!”

No, no, no, no, no, no….

“Don’t worry! This is amateur theatrics! We will do one rehearsal right before the performance and you will be ok!”

One scene right in the beginning of the play. Exposition of the replacement.

One scene right on the end of the play. Reading her text herself.

No.. no…

She was scared. She was tempted. She was elated. She was panicky. She was scared.

She did it.

It took all of her strength to do it.  She almost fainted. She was gasping for breath. Nothing showed.

She did it.

She maintains that she messed up some of the finer points. Still it was a dare. A dare no one posed as such. No one but herself.