This one stuck out, in the likes of attire, grace, etiquette -everything. Noticing her was something I could not help. The other performers dawned breath-taking leotards with the tail feathers of peacocks brilliantly and, dare I say, strategically, attached, coupled with the glamour of fake jewel studs, but this one -all she had was a rustic brown cloak. That was not all -in the place of the elegant sashay the other performers possessed was a reluctant limp.
I gently strolled towards her. Clearly, there was no rush for us to meet, but curiosity pushed my legs forward, and towards meeting her I was.
"Get...get away from me!" She hissed, with a stumble in her violent retreat. The equally curious crowd were relentless and far from considerate. Hands raised from everywhere to clutch a piece of her cloak, dying to know what was so haunting underneath -that it could land her into a place like this.
By Candice.
Clearly, this is not a complete story, so please do not wonder what is going on.
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