Sunday, July 10, 2016

Llama with wistful woman

I just realized this is the first short story I have posted in a long time... Huh! Anyways, this one I wrote based on picture prompt from my British Literature class. It was a picture of this really sad looking woman looking out at garden with a lama standing behind her. I looked at it, got super excited and my crazy little brain composed this strange little beauty. As always --read, enjoy, and comment!

Warning: Slightly Childish and has a very abrupt ending 



I could hardly even with keep on breathing. My stomach was doing jump- ropes with my intestines, but as I darted to the exit my heart seemed to join in the jump roping. Tears streamed down my face, as I fled the room. I just needed to be alone. Away from everything that seemed to be wrong with my life. Which, of course, was everything.
But my problems had only just begun.
              I live in a large mansion in the middle of a large city. The city was well crowded and over populated. Which meant two things. One, the water was the color of wet tree bark and two privacy was hard to come by.
                The first place one usually goes when they need privacy is their quarters. But I have never gone in there unless I had a hardener heart and a clear head. Which were the two things I lacked at the moment. My nosy servants were rather… rude.
                So I was left to aimlessly walk down the halls, no destination in sight.
                I finally found a perfect area, with only one or two people. A garden. But there were still those people.
                Trickery was my only option.
                I stood on the entrance to the garden, an imitation perfectly posed on my lips.
                “The British are coming,” I screamed in my father’s announcer voice.
                Instantly the people fled in terror.
                I would have laughed had I not been in such a bad mood.
                Instead I sighed at the peaceful silence. The blissful calm of being alone.
                I walked down the path until I came to gazebo. I climbed the stairs, and grabbed the fistful of papers I had stuffed in the pocket of my gown.
              How could they call them…those horrible things?
              Tears blurred the paper.
              A weird noise shifted everything.
              Almost like someone was humming.
I turned to see a…
Llama?
Then I died.

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