Ahhh... Too bright!
Amy quickly covered her heavy eyes with her hands, rolling onto her right side to escape the intense sunlight and...
Thud!
She fell off the soft cushioned sofa, hitting the grassy surface hard.
"Ouch!" she cried, rubbing her hip as she sat up, shaking her heavy head slowly to try to rid her brain of its cotton wool fog.
The air was filled with a sweet perfume; a scent she knew very well. She blinked several times before eventually able to take in her surroundings.
Amy's green eyes widened and she grinned like a Cheshire cat. She definitely wasn't locked up in a dark damp prison or left to be fed to some wild hungry beast in a cage. Instead, she had been planted on a red couch in the middle of a garden, with rows and rows of pruned rose bushes circling her, resembling giant round lollipops. Each flower was at least three times the size of any rose she had ever seen and they all had rainbow-coloured petals.
"Ah, you're awake!"
Amy searched the surrounding area for the owner of the munchkin voice but found no one.
"Who's there?" she asked.
"I must say, you're a little short for a Storyteller."
"I am not a Storyteller." She stood up stretching to her full 106 cm's and crossed her arms.
"You're not? Then why are you here?"
"I was kidnapped," Amy retorted, more interested in locating the actual speaker, as she investigated the garden.
"No, no... that's not possible. I gave strict instructions for Marcus to only bring the Storyteller here."
"So you're King, um...." What had her Aunt Penelope called him? "King... Lumier? No, Lion? No that's not right. Lyle. King Lyle! That's it. You're the one responsible for me being kidnapped!"
"I am not." The indignant voice protested.
"Are too." Amy replied.
"Am not..."
"One of your men grabbed me and brought me here. Just ask him!" Amy proclaimed.
"What's his name?"
"I... don't know."
"See? You can't prove it." He sounded way too happy.
"Yes I can. He's the one with the black eye." She said, rubbing her sore knuckles.
"You punched one of my guards?" His astounded voice sounded so incredulous. "You... a teeny weeny little Storyteller and he's so .... so big. That's not possible."
"Well I didn't exactly punch him," she owned up, smiling "I poked him in the eye."
"That's not the same thing at all." He accused.
"It hurts just the same. Why don't you ask him yourself, if you don't believe me?"
"Don't think I won't."
"See if I care." She planted her hands on her hips.
"Well I care even less. So there!"
They remained in silence for several seconds until Amy's curiosity got the better of her.
"Are you invisible?"
"Ha ha ha ha!"
Amy was not impressed that he thought her question so funny.
YOU ARE READING
The Storyteller - ONC 2022
General FictionNine-year-old Amy Winter's holiday plans have gone from exciting to total disaster. How is she supposed to have any fun being packed up and sent to stay with a weird relative she can't even remember? And Aunt Penelope is as weird as they get. With...
