Proof

Chapter One

Any comments and criticism would be greatly appreciated.

 

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The Mona Lisa hung proudly on the beige walls of the Musée du Louvre. A mesmerising crystal chandelier hung elegantly from the ceiling above, and quivered after every step, threatening to fall. I licked my lips and sighed, watching as  crowds of people gathered together, huddling close, just to get a glimpse of the famous painting. The flash of the cameras were blinding and I blinked twice, hoping to regain my vision. Bloody hell, I mused. All this for just one painting? If only people got as enthusiastic about overcoming poverty as they did when they saw the Mona Lisa, maybe people around the world wouldn't be malnourished. 

“This is just like a club,” I remarked, “cause every one’s grinding against each other and lights are flashing. All we need now is a disco ball, some music, and we’re all set.” I spoke loudly, but barely anyone could hear over the sound of everyone squealing and the cameras clicking. Mr. Arrowsmith, the school’s geography teacher, didn’t look too amused at my comment. His lips were pursed and he raised his hands and began to talk, trying desperately to talk over the chatter. For our final year of high school, the entire geography class were given the privilege to tour around France, on an all expense paid trip. Today was our final day in Paris, and so naturally, we came to it’s landmark, the Louvre Museum.

 

 I was thrilled after finding this out, but the minute we stepped into the Mona Lisa exhibit... that was when the chaos started. How everyone could be so excited over a painting? That was something that would continue to pester my mind for such a long time. It would be logical to get excited over winning the lottery, or if a blind person could suddenly see, but a painting? What was so special about it?

 

“This,” he announced, “is the Mona Lisa, and the gem of not only the Musée du Louvre, but also the world.” Every one seemed to be excited and began pulling their cellphones from their pockets, hoping to get a photo of themselves with the painting. I began to examine the interior of the room. Just beside the Mona Lisa exhibit was another room, full of abstract paintings, and another, full of naked statues. I cringed. Doctor Who had made me afraid of statues, ever since the Weeping Angels episode. Mia tugged the sleeve of my shirt, bemused. Her eyes were full of wonder and awe; she was obviously taken by the place. 

“How can you not be excited,” she said, zipping up her puffer jacket, “it’s the Mona Lisa, Kylie!”

“Exactly why I’m not excited,” I mumbled. “I’ve seen it on the telly so many times that it’s almost tiring to look at.”

Mia rolled her eyes. “But don’t you think it’s more beautiful in person?” My gaze shifted from her to the brightly lit, amazingly adored painting behind her. Sure, Da Vinci has talent, but doesn’t every other artist have talent too? People liked to believe I was mental for not liking it, but I liked to believe I was the only normal one left on this planet, and everyone else had turned into lunatics. I didn't turn to Mia when I answered.

“No,” I muttered. “Not really.”

We all gathered into the large French tour bus waiting for us outside of the museum and I slid into a seat at the back next to Mia. She stared adoringly at the museum. The museum itself was beautiful; more beautiful than the Mona Lisa itself. It was a large Victorian building that seemed to stretch out for miles. The brick walls were scraped of moss and dirt and seemed to sparkle in the French daylight. Water slurred and glinted, the fountain in front of us exploding spontaneously every few seconds. Mia pursed her lips and pouted.