April 20, 2013
Day 20: Write a scene that takes place in an alley.
*Darn, And I had just written an alley scene from the last chapter! :(
Venice was beautiful.
I had always wanted to roam the streets of Venice even from when I was younger and heard stories of the winged lions and ancient statues that seemed to guard the city. The stories spoke to me, although I did not believe in magic. The city simply held so much wonder, so much beauty. It was my greatest dream to see Venice with my own eyes, to step on its cobblestone roads with my own feet, and to inhale its sewage-polluted air with my pert little button nose.
Okay, so maybe not the last one.
I had anticipated the smell, but I wasn't technically prepared for the actual stench. However, it wasn't really all that bad. It was just a little smelly at some particular places, especially bridges, is all. In fact, I barely noticed it most of the time.
My father had not been very supportive when he learned that I was going on this little trip on my own. He was always a very practical person, but when it comes to me,his only daughter, he's simply uncharacteristically overprotective and a little paranoid.
Okay, a lot paranoid.
From the way he reacted, one might have thought the beautiful city of Venice could sink and become the next Atlantis in the span of a single day, thus rendering me lost in the unspeakable depths of the sea. I mean I heard and read somewhere that the city sunk a little everyday, but what my father was assuming was something I'd categorize under 'highly unlikely."
Therefore, unable to convince me of his Atlantis theory, he tried to warn me off with the smell and the muggers and the occasional unfortunate encounter with the rare unfriendly Venizian. I wouldn't listen. Nothing can stop me from literally flying and then, eventually taking the train, to my dream destination.
My mother dearest, on the other hand, did not mind all that much. She was one of those easy-go-lucky parents that left practically every decision to their children and their husbands. Mom let me go at once the moment I asked. I wasn't sure if she gave her permission because she believed I was responsible enough or because the hippie in her who stood for all those flower power business respected guile and determination which reminded her of her Anti-fur cardboard-carrying days.
I wandered aimlessly around the city, courage and the thrill of freedom coursing through my veins. My conspicuous red Converses marched me down an alley, one that seemed quite deserted. I know what you're probably thinking. I'm the stupid girl who goes down the dark, spooky, and dank empty alley and gets knifed or just mugged.
Nope. I knew what I was doing. It was all part of The List.
I had a list scribbled in a yellowing sheet of folded bond paper tucked away in my pocket. I called it The List, note the capitalisms. On it, I had written a bucket list for myself once I made it to Venice. The list were mostly things I would never have done, but given an opportunity to live a life that wasn't my own for even just a week, I could not pass up the challenge of a bucket list.
That was my hubris and I should have known then that my inability to pass up a challenge-any challenge- would not bring me much good.
I ploughed ahead and stopped dead in my tracks.
My jaw fell open in surprise and awe as I stared at the person in front of me.
The person smirked and I swear, I could have almost fainted.
