Pride and Pity

The oh-so-awesome Tara Tyler at Tara Tyler Talks is holding a little short story fun over at her blog and I decided to participate.

Here are the rules:

1. put a link to your story in Tara's comments
2. link back to Tara's blog to let others know about the challenge.
3. keep it clean =)

January's prompt -
This month, the challenge before you is to write a short story of 750 words or less including these four words: EVIL, CROWD, HARP, WATERFALL

Challenge ends January 31.


And here is my entry -

It would have felt like a scene straight out of Merlin, had Jasmine not been fighting for her life. She had always wanted to visit England. Jane Austen, Beatrice Potter, and Dr. Who where only part of reasons she had always wanted to come here. Lush landscapes and a few waterfalls hadn't been a drawback either. It was Jasmine's idea of a personal fairytale, if only it hadn't been for an evil witch.

"Please move," Jasmine yelled over the crowd of people at Buckingham palace. 

She hobbled her way to edge of a bench surrounding the Victoria Memorial and took a look at her ankle. Swollen and bruised, fantastic. Okay so maybe 'fighting for her life' was a bit of an overstatement, she had just twisted her ankle walking from the palace to the memorial.

"You okay there, Miss?" One of the male strangers next to her said.

"I'm fine," Jasmine said, her body still facing away from the man. She took another look at her ankle and started to cry. "I'm fine if fine means your best friend has run of with the guy you like. That witch."

"I was actually referring to your ankle," the man said.

"Then there was that old lady who harped me out when I tripped," she blubbered on, "does no one have any decency? This trip was supposed to be dream come true."

Jasmine felt an awkward pat on her back. She looked up at the man next to her with the kind accent. Her jaw dropped. He was her version of tall, dark, and handsome.

He smiled at her. "I hope you feel better."

Jasmine was keenly aware of her splotched cheeks. "Th-th-thanks," she stammered.

"There's my ride," the man said pointing in the other direction and stuffing something in his shirt pocket, "nice to meet you."

Jasmine nodded as she watched him walk away. Wait, where was he going? She should have asked for his number. She stood, then fell back to the bench with pain of her ankle. She had just let Mr. Darcy walk out of her life.

She put her head in her hands and rubbed her face. How had she gotten into this mess? She had always thought England was going to be so romantic.

She sighed and stood, hoping on her good leg. She would have to get a cab then. She reached into her back pocket only to find her wallet missing. She closed her eyes and shook her head realizing the handsome stranger had taken it right out from under her nose.

She was never coming to England again.