The Telling of Fortunes

The Telling of Fortunes.
A short story.
Written by Fennecthesandwing21.
My entry for the weekly competition, for which the word was fortune.
Chapter 1.
I ran across the grass, laughing. My heart swooped through the air like a soaring bird, exhilarated. We stopped, panting but still laughing. Like looking in a mirror, I looked into Connie's bright blue eyes, which sparkled with sunlight. So much like mine. She reached over and pushed me gently and I collapsed on the lush green grass in a fit of laughter. It wasn't long before she joined me, and we lay side by side, letting the sun warm out faces.
"Girls!" 
A rough voice. An ordering shout. Our laughter ends.
Connie pulls a face at me and I roll my eyes, getting up and brushing the grass off my jeans and running over the out caravan. It is bright blue, with fluffy white clouds painted on the sides, and little silver birds hanging on the inside of the windows.
Connie goes in first, and as always I follow her. The warm, delightful smell of Eden's cooking fills the caravan, and I breathe it in greedily. 
"Lottie! Come and help with the soup!" 
Eden calls me, and I hurry over to the pot, grasping the wooden spoon and stirring slowly. Today it's tomato soup, sprinkled with basil and a concoction of other herbs that Eden always uses. I have yet to discover what herbs are in the mix, but for now all I need to know is how good they taste in soup!
"Hey, Lottie, excited for tonight's performance?" Connie appears at my shoulder and flashes me a grin. 
If you haven't already guessed, we live in a circus. Our lives are spent travelling in our cosy caravans from place to place, putting on splendid shows of talent, and wowing crowds. 
I have always thought of summer as the best time of the year, with the sun and long grass for me and my sister to play in, and the extra busy shows which earn us all extra money. Of course, Connie can find a fault in anything, and I must agree with her that hot soup on a warm summer's day is not the best thing for lunch, but despite my sister's indignant protests, Eden continues to serve us soup every day.
Chapter 2.
I slide into my chair casually, breathing in the scent of lunch. Connie bounces down onto her seat, then grabs a spoon, uses it to scoop up a few large portions of soup, then sighs, throws it down onto the table and picks up the brightly coloured bowl before slurping up its contents. 
With far more polite manners, I pick up my spoon and skim it over the top of my soup and begin to eat slowly. Connie giggles and I look up at her from my meal to see a red soup moustache above her mouth. 
I begin to giggle as well, and soon as are both in fits of laughter.
To be continued.
Category:Literature
Category:Fiction
Category:Original Stories
Category:Original Stories (Unfinished)
Category:Fennecthesandwing21‘s Things