Well, that was harder than I thought it would be! ;-) — Joyce
Write about someone who is pretending to be someone or something he or she is not.
Failla paid her (exorbitant) admission and entered the Renaissance Faire. The grounds were packed with wandering people dressed in all manner of costume, some even from the Renaissance period. There were Vikings and elves and scantily clad barmaids and dirty beggars. There were French musketeers and dragons. There were booths selling crude clay mugs and delicate blown glass, tall peaked hats and “fairy” flower garlands for the hair,
Her fairy dresss was definitely not Renaissance but she fit in.
“Great ears!” a young man in a wizard’s robe said. “Ohmygod, your wings. It looks like they’re really growing out of your back.”
Failla grinned and turned her back to let him see better. “Aren’t they great? My sister’s a really good makeup artist. Worked on the Rings trilogy.”
“Hey, can I get your picture?” a man in a Viking costume asked, a camera slung anachronistically around his neck.
Failla posed prettily for him, lighting her dazzling sparkling smile. He sighted her through the viewfinder and clicked.
“Thanks!” he said lowering the camera. He looked down at the preview on the back and frowned. There was no fairy. He looked up to ask if he could take it again but she had vanished into the crowd.
It wasn’t like this in the old days, Failla thought to herself. Not like this in many many ways. And yet she liked it and pirroutted with a smile, being able to be who she was without anyone realizing it.
Write about someone who is pretending to be someone or something he or she is not.
Well, that was harder than I thought it would be! ;-) — Joyce
ReplyDeleteWrite about someone who is pretending to be someone or something he or she is not.
Failla paid her (exorbitant) admission and entered the Renaissance Faire. The grounds were packed with wandering people dressed in all manner of costume, some even from the Renaissance period. There were Vikings and elves and scantily clad barmaids and dirty beggars. There were French musketeers and dragons. There were booths selling crude clay mugs and delicate blown glass, tall peaked hats and “fairy” flower garlands for the hair,
Her fairy dresss was definitely not Renaissance but she fit in.
“Great ears!” a young man in a wizard’s robe said. “Ohmygod, your wings. It looks like they’re really growing out of your back.”
Failla grinned and turned her back to let him see better. “Aren’t they great? My sister’s a really good makeup artist. Worked on the Rings trilogy.”
“Hey, can I get your picture?” a man in a Viking costume asked, a camera slung anachronistically around his neck.
Failla posed prettily for him, lighting her dazzling sparkling smile. He sighted her through the viewfinder and clicked.
“Thanks!” he said lowering the camera. He looked down at the preview on the back and frowned. There was no fairy. He looked up to ask if he could take it again but she had vanished into the crowd.
It wasn’t like this in the old days, Failla thought to herself. Not like this in many many ways. And yet she liked it and pirroutted with a smile, being able to be who she was without anyone realizing it.
Joyce