Self-proclaimed people photographer, Olivia, is not a stalker. She just likes to secretly observe people and inconspicuously take pictures of them- and maybe sometimes that involves hiding behind bushes. Olivia has never gotten caught. Until now, wh...
Hi hello. This is the prologue for my new story which I am super excited about.
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"You're going to what?!" I nearly died of laughter, choking on my lemonade as Atticus told me all about his so-called "brilliant" plan.
"Steal the Death of the Virgin from The Louvre!" He grinned like a mad-man and as I look closely into his eyes I see the absence of something I like to call "fear for my life."
I roll my eyes, "Sure, buddy. And after that we can go rob a bank, how does that sound?"
"Olivia, trust me! It'll be so easy. Okay, did you know that in 1911 this museum worker managed to steal the Mona Lisa? All he had to do was wait until midnight, hide the painting under his shirt and walk out of there. They didn't even notice it was missing until after a few weeks later. It was brilliant!" The more he explains his elaborate plan, the less funny it gets to me.
Is this boy actually serious?
"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you over the sound of you losing your mind! Tell me, did you lose about a million brain cells from your last shenanigan?"
See, Atticus's usual idea of fun is setting things on fire or driving 80 miles per hour with his eyes closed. But when an idea as absurd as this comes out of this boy's lips, it's official Atticus no longer cared about life. Not mine and especially not his. Yup, we were going to die.
The Louvre is an art museum located in France and it houses many prestige works of arts, most notably the Mona Lisa. Atticus's plan is to sneak in, in the middle of the night and just steal one of its most precious paintings. As if it were that easy.
"Aw, you don't understand! It'll be fun. Don't be a party pooper." He has a mischievous glint in his eyes and once Atticus is set on doing something, there's no convincing him otherwise
"Hell no. You are not going to do that. Do you know how much trouble you'll be in? Trespassing, breaking and entering, theft, art theft, museum theft,-" I count all the possibilities on my finger as I ramble on and on redundantly about all the scenarios and jail time that would await him.
"See that's IF I get caught. Which I won't. You should know by now that I am the king of pulling things off." His calm exterior is the opposite of my scrunched up face as I pace around the room back and forth.
Although I know it's pointless, I still try to talk him about of his crazy idea, "You don't have to do this. You can steal deaths of virgins everywhere! Like how about- I'm thinking- wait for it, in a bar full of girls with low self-esteem! Huh?," I nudge him and nod my head enthusiastically, "How does that sound?"
"You're right. I'm not going to do it."
I let out a breath of relief, "Good."
"Alone. I'm not going to do it alone." He put an arm around me and reminds me once again, "Come on Liv, what have you got to lose?"
"I hope you know that by stealing Death of the Virgin, you'll be responsible for another death of a virgin. Mine, probably from a heart attack! And when I die, you best believe I'm coming back to haunt your ass." I give him a death stare and sigh in defeat.
If I would have known that taking photographs of a complete stranger at Central Park would put me in this scenario, I never would have gotten out of bed that day.
