Short Stories by Ana

Short Stories I

It was a Saturday when Anni stood in front of the shiny mirror slackwith with a steel scissors. The lamp light only sparsely illuminated her petite face as she slowly lifted the scissors, with trembling hands. Annabell Marian Prisset. Little sister Max Prissets. And that was Anni's problem. She was just his little sister, everyone looked at her like that. Anni with her waist-length hair, which she combed in her face. Everyone thought they knew who she was. Anni was the girl who didn't dare to make anything special out of her life. At least that's what they thought of the fourteen-year-old. So inconspicuous. Anni looked at herself in the mirror and swallowed loudly. But she was sure of her plan. She would show it to everyone. She was Annabell Prissets. Not Anni or Bell. She was the Anabell Prisset and no one would doubt that if she pulled it through. With this thought, she put on the scissors on the hairat the height of the chin and cut without straightening the scissors. A few tears flowed down her pale cheeks and she closed her eyes as she continued to cut. The soft fluff of her hair spread in the sink and she opened her eyes. Shortly, her black pupils widened, but she grinned mockingly. She looked like she had plugged into an electric socket. Some strands stood off her head, some lay flat on her skull. Some would have screamed. But Annabell knew she was about to start a new life. With her head raised high, instead of the lowered, as so often, she proudly stused out of the bathroom and ignored the outcry that rang out as she more dignifiedly mashed denje in the school hallway. She grinned confidently at the terrified students and laughed. Because she was Annabell Prissets.