The second set of short stories based on prompts such as first sentence starters and 3 random words. Some of these are quite old...can you spot the newer from the older?
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A long time ago, she believed in fairies. Her granddaddy told her once that the fireflies that lit up around the garden in the evening were actually fairies, ensuring that the flowers bloomed for her mother. She believe wholeheartedly, that is, until she caught one. It was bug. At her young age, she was near devastated not that her granddaddy had lied to her, but that fairies were not real.
Around the same time as this despairing truth interrupted her fanciful childhood dreams, she had gone to the circus. A silly little clown was to be shot from a cannon only to land in swimming pool. All the other clowns cheered as the little clown made his ascent up the ladder. He stood tall, waving to the crowd, placing his little flight goggles and old fashioned leather fighter pilots helmet on over his big orange mop of hair.
That little clown died. It was very tragic. A horrible accident, or perhaps the circus folk getting lax in their setting up of things. The poor man landed in the audience in the wooden bleachers. Several people were injured, but only he had died. Snapped neck. But it was a bloody sight to behold.
More events happened, much the same. Slowly but surely stealing away her youthful enthusiasm, snuffing out that spark of youth and wonder in the world around her.
By her teens, she had become so cynical. She did not socialize; she was an outcast to both friends and family.
Her view of them all, and society, humanity in general, was that they were nothing but cattle being led to the slaughter.
There was no joy, no happiness.
Only bitter little truths floating behind fantastical lies.
