Short Stories of A Fangirl

Madrid

Target: 250 words.

------------------------------

Feet pounding on the uneven cobblestones. Wide, terrified eyes. You turn into a street taken over by shops without slowing down.

The faded fabrics are every colour in the world, diluted and dyed. The air is alive with the sounds of bustling humanity: merchants hawking unbeatable prices, children yelling to each other. A young busker plays his piano accordion mournfully.

The sun is out and making its presence felt on any bare skin it can get its hands on - you're not enjoying it, however. Exerting yourself in thirty-four degree heat will do that to you, and you've been running for a while. You're struggling to breathe, but you can't stop. You know what's behind you all to well.

Dodging through the overcrowded market-stalls where people are worried about simple things like money, you chance a look back - and fall. Without missing a beat, you're up again, sprinting around the idiotic, gobsmacked tourists that suffocate your hometown.

Breathe again. In. Out.

You swerve past a watermelon cart and an old lady shopkeeper yells at you in Spanish. The colourful stalls on both sides of you seem to close in, mocking you with sweets and assorted vegetables.

You've only got a few minutes left, and you know it.

At long last, you burst out from the market onto a sidestreet that seems desolate compared to what you left behind. You keep your bearings, though, and after a few more turns you're at the station.

Never have you felt more relieved.