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"description": "\"Oh I'll just do a quick little paragraph to explain the situat-\"\n1300 WORDS LATER...\n\nYes, I AM dumb.\n\n---\n\n[i]It had been a few days. Every minute of them cramped inside a tent at the very center of the fairgrounds. It was spacious, the size of a large living room, maybe? If he ran, he could probably just barely get up to full speed before hitting the edge. He didn’t try, and only occasionally did he poke his head outside to see what was happening. They were always busy. Carrying barrels and boxes back and forth. So many boxes…It was getting ridiculous. Surely they didn’t have THAT much stuff to carry around…[/i]\n\n[i]The panda sighed. Admittedly he only assumed that he wasn’t free to leave. It made sense. He sure as hell didn’t ask to be here, and as gentle and caring as his captor seemed to be, there was an underlying authority to her words. ‘Sit here.’ ‘Sit there.’ Even words like ‘Relax’ were said with command. She never asked. Always ‘gently’ demanded.[/i]\n[i]That’s why he didn't quite believe her words when she said he was free to leave. It didn’t make sense. It took a minute for the words to register. She wasn’t even looking in his direction when she answered. He’d grown accustomed to that. She was always fiddling with something. Fixing her makeup in the mirror. Slowly grinding something in a mortar and pestle. Sharpening a knife or two…[/i]\n\n[i]When the words finally did register, he took some additional time to consider them. Would she really just let him walk out? Was this whole kidnapping thing some kind of big joke? Maybe this was a test… If he left, would she turn around and suddenly impale him one of those knives? The very idea kept him in his seat for at least another ten minutes. Or was it twenty? Time was a big blur under the tent.[/i]\n\n[i]He got up, and slowly made his way to the exit. There was no door. It was a pair of heavy black flaps hanging down to the ground. Black. Just like the rest of this godforsaken tent. The longer he stayed, the more he hated the color black.[/i]\n[i]He kept his eyes on her the entire time. She hadn’t so much as glanced backwards. Was it really this easy? His heart was racing as he reached for the flaps. She still didn’t move. He pushed them aside and took one step out. The sun was blinding after so long under darkness. That was as far as he made it before she spoke again.[/i]\n\n[i]“Be back before sundown.”[/i]\n\n[i]His heart sank. He knew it. He knew it was too good to be true. He was trapped here, just like he thought. He was nothing more than a pet for a crazy clown. It was frustrating, and yet as he let the flaps fall behind him, he felt the slightest bit of hope. He had free reign. He could move. He could figure something out…[/i]\n[i]His movement was slow at first. He blended in, thanks to the ridiculous clown suit she had given him. He was just part of the troupe. No one seemed to bat an eye in his direction. They were just carrying boxes as always, repairing holes in tents, stretching, flipping, rehearsing their parts in the show. Except for the ones in masks. They wore the same outfit he did. A slightly baggy clown suit, half red, half yellow. Their plain white masks had a broad smile on them, painted in black, and eyes of the same color. There were no eye holes. How did they even see? Creepy.[/i]\n[i]He ignored them as he cautiously stepped through the fairgrounds. Slowly at first, but the farther he made it, the faster he started to move. The tent was at the center, but in every direction, he could see trees. This wasn’t TOO big of an operation. He could easily get to one end on foot, and in only a few minutes as well, at least as far as he guessed. His cautious steps had turned into a brisk speed walk. Still no one looked in his direction. He was forced to turn a corner, as there was a large tent in front him. Every time he did, he could feel the knot in his stomach grow just a bit more. It proved unfounded every time as no one stood in his way. No tall, scary man to stuff him in his bag and carry him back as he kept envisioning in his mind.[/i]\n\n[i]He was jogging now. There were even more of those weird, masked-clowns now, but it didn’t matter. He was going to make it. Was it really going to be this easy? Could he just walk right out? He had no idea where he was, and walking headfirst into the woods definitely wasn’t the smartest of ideas, but if it meant escape, he would take it. He would figure out the details later. Live on nuts and berries. Drink crappy, contaminated river water. Sleep on a rock covered in ants. Whatever it took.[/i]\n\n[i]One more row of tents to go. He was going to make it. Holy crap, it really WAS that easy. He was almost smiling. He broke into a sprint, at least momentarily. He skidded to a stop almost immediately. There, in the bushes, underneath the shade of a large tree was one of the masked clowns. Motionless. It held a single arm behind its back as it slowly shook its masked head side to side. The message couldn’t have been clearer.[/i]\n\n[i]He couldn’t believe it. He was so close. Maybe it was still possible? It was only one man, after all. Tall, lanky, shoes of ridiculous size to match the clown aesthetic. The man couldn’t be that fast. Hell, the panda could probably run right by, with a head start anyway. Would it try to stop him? Was this another test?[/i]\n\n[i]Sensing his intentions, the masked creature looked to the right and nodded once. It was gesturing toward something? The panda was Hesitant to take his eyes off of the creature, but reluctantly he turned to look. There was another one of the masked clowns, staring directly at him. Another on top of the tent behind him, staring as well. There was another poking its head from around the corner. The panda’s heart sunk even further. The more he looked, the more of them he could see. Some stared in his direction. Others were surveying the area as a whole, most of them were just barely out of view. Their gaudy colors ensured they blended right in with the rest of of the circus. Still, how had the panda missed so many? They were everywhere, their black, soulless eyes drilling into him. He couldn’t breathe. Before he knew it, he was running again. To where, he had no idea. He turned a corner and there they were. Behind barrels, peeking their heads out of tents. Was nowhere safe?[/i]\n\n[i]He ran until his lungs burned. He turned a corner, and another, another. He was going in circles, not that he could tell in the suffocating panic. He had to get away. Get to somewhere safe. It felt like hours before he spotted something familiar. A large, jet black tent. Safety. Familiarity. He tripped and stumbled, nearly falling flat on his face, as he scrambled his way forward. He threw the heavy flaps aside, and immediately ran for the bed, wrapping himself in the gaudy, quilted blanket he’d been trapped under for the last few days. There he sat for the rest of the night.[/i]\n[i]His captor lit up a cigar, as she always did. She blew a perfect ring of smoke, not so much as glancing back at the quivering panda in her bed.[/i]\n\n[url=http://www.postybirb.com]Posted using PostyBirb[/url]",
"description_bbcode_parsed": ""Oh I'll just do a quick little paragraph to explain the situat-"
1300 WORDS LATER...
Yes, I AM dumb.
---
It had been a few days. Every minute of them cramped inside a tent at the very center of the fairgrounds. It was spacious, the size of a large living room, maybe? If he ran, he could probably just barely get up to full speed before hitting the edge. He didn’t try, and only occasionally did he poke his head outside to see what was happening. They were always busy. Carrying barrels and boxes back and forth. So many boxes…It was getting ridiculous. Surely they didn’t have THAT much stuff to carry around…
The panda sighed. Admittedly he only assumed that he wasn’t free to leave. It made sense. He sure as hell didn’t ask to be here, and as gentle and caring as his captor seemed to be, there was an underlying authority to her words. ‘Sit here.’ ‘Sit there.’ Even words like ‘Relax’ were said with command. She never asked. Always ‘gently’ demanded.
That’s why he didn't quite believe her words when she said he was free to leave. It didn’t make sense. It took a minute for the words to register. She wasn’t even looking in his direction when she answered. He’d grown accustomed to that. She was always fiddling with something. Fixing her makeup in the mirror. Slowly grinding something in a mortar and pestle. Sharpening a knife or two…
When the words finally did register, he took some additional time to consider them. Would she really just let him walk out? Was this whole kidnapping thing some kind of big joke? Maybe this was a test… If he left, would she turn around and suddenly impale him one of those knives? The very idea kept him in his seat for at least another ten minutes. Or was it twenty? Time was a big blur under the tent.
He got up, and slowly made his way to the exit. There was no door. It was a pair of heavy black flaps hanging down to the ground. Black. Just like the rest of this godforsaken tent. The longer he stayed, the more he hated the color black.
He kept his eyes on her the entire time. She hadn’t so much as glanced backwards. Was it really this easy? His heart was racing as he reached for the flaps. She still didn’t move. He pushed them aside and took one step out. The sun was blinding after so long under darkness. That was as far as he made it before she spoke again.
“Be back before sundown.”
His heart sank. He knew it. He knew it was too good to be true. He was trapped here, just like he thought. He was nothing more than a pet for a crazy clown. It was frustrating, and yet as he let the flaps fall behind him, he felt the slightest bit of hope. He had free reign. He could move. He could figure something out…
His movement was slow at first. He blended in, thanks to the ridiculous clown suit she had given him. He was just part of the troupe. No one seemed to bat an eye in his direction. They were just carrying boxes as always, repairing holes in tents, stretching, flipping, rehearsing their parts in the show. Except for the ones in masks. They wore the same outfit he did. A slightly baggy clown suit, half red, half yellow. Their plain white masks had a broad smile on them, painted in black, and eyes of the same color. There were no eye holes. How did they even see? Creepy.
He ignored them as he cautiously stepped through the fairgrounds. Slowly at first, but the farther he made it, the faster he started to move. The tent was at the center, but in every direction, he could see trees. This wasn’t TOO big of an operation. He could easily get to one end on foot, and in only a few minutes as well, at least as far as he guessed. His cautious steps had turned into a brisk speed walk. Still no one looked in his direction. He was forced to turn a corner, as there was a large tent in front him. Every time he did, he could feel the knot in his stomach grow just a bit more. It proved unfounded every time as no one stood in his way. No tall, scary man to stuff him in his bag and carry him back as he kept envisioning in his mind.
He was jogging now. There were even more of those weird, masked-clowns now, but it didn’t matter. He was going to make it. Was it really going to be this easy? Could he just walk right out? He had no idea where he was, and walking headfirst into the woods definitely wasn’t the smartest of ideas, but if it meant escape, he would take it. He would figure out the details later. Live on nuts and berries. Drink crappy, contaminated river water. Sleep on a rock covered in ants. Whatever it took.
One more row of tents to go. He was going to make it. Holy crap, it really WAS that easy. He was almost smiling. He broke into a sprint, at least momentarily. He skidded to a stop almost immediately. There, in the bushes, underneath the shade of a large tree was one of the masked clowns. Motionless. It held a single arm behind its back as it slowly shook its masked head side to side. The message couldn’t have been clearer.
He couldn’t believe it. He was so close. Maybe it was still possible? It was only one man, after all. Tall, lanky, shoes of ridiculous size to match the clown aesthetic. The man couldn’t be that fast. Hell, the panda could probably run right by, with a head start anyway. Would it try to stop him? Was this another test?
Sensing his intentions, the masked creature looked to the right and nodded once. It was gesturing toward something? The panda was Hesitant to take his eyes off of the creature, but reluctantly he turned to look. There was another one of the masked clowns, staring directly at him. Another on top of the tent behind him, staring as well. There was another poking its head from around the corner. The panda’s heart sunk even further. The more he looked, the more of them he could see. Some stared in his direction. Others were surveying the area as a whole, most of them were just barely out of view. Their gaudy colors ensured they blended right in with the rest of of the circus. Still, how had the panda missed so many? They were everywhere, their black, soulless eyes drilling into him. He couldn’t breathe. Before he knew it, he was running again. To where, he had no idea. He turned a corner and there they were. Behind barrels, peeking their heads out of tents. Was nowhere safe?
He ran until his lungs burned. He turned a corner, and another, another. He was going in circles, not that he could tell in the suffocating panic. He had to get away. Get to somewhere safe. It felt like hours before he spotted something familiar. A large, jet black tent. Safety. Familiarity. He tripped and stumbled, nearly falling flat on his face, as he scrambled his way forward. He threw the heavy flaps aside, and immediately ran for the bed, wrapping himself in the gaudy, quilted blanket he’d been trapped under for the last few days. There he sat for the rest of the night.
His captor lit up a cigar, as she always did. She blew a perfect ring of smoke, not so much as glancing back at the quivering panda in her bed.
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