Fame

• Steph Creek, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2011

Fame
I stare up at the red velvet carpet; everyone is inside; I have been voted for having excellent probity and leadership. Everyone has been telling me to be assertive but this acrimony came over me I felt like a stupid monkey. I decided to let my hair down as I passed a benevolent person; he seemed to be like a vagabond. I had to be careful; I knew this place is very malevolent. My rivals have no integrity. I am being furtive I look at the man on the sidewalk in disdain. I start to head back to the building but I remember that the press are very ubiquitous. The press are so insidious they are filled with mendacity I have an indifference towards them. Sometimes I would give anything to be normal live a normal life. To be in matrimony with a man we could live on an archipelago how romantic don’t forget my best friend the buoy it could save my life one day. WOAH! Look at the time I better go inside face the music. Not that I want to I just don’t want to disappoint all of my friends and loving family. As I walked back my feet started to hurt stilettos are fashionable but they can be excruciating, feet are not designed for this. I need them for height for I am … short it’s not fair I’m classified as the runt of the family. I believe I am the most successful in our family. There are no paparazzi in sight but they are surreptitious. Making my way up the stairs it feels like it might go on forever.
The security guard, opens the door as I slowly walk in, suddenly everybody turns towards me. Nowhere to run I feel trapped I can’t breathe. I can’t hold it back it all comes up a whole lot of puke. This is so embarrassing, mortified looks from everyone in the room, I think my life is over. Sure enough the next day it’s everywhere, I can’t take one step down the street without being called one of the stupid paparazzi nicknames for me. Will this ever pass I don’t think It will but I sure am praying for it to.
Ugh mum calling for the usual family catch up over the phone for they are to ‘busy’ to organize a family dinner. Then my dearest brother calls to rub it in my face how I made myself look like an imbecile on the awards night. As if I’m not in enough grief as it is with the media. What would it take for some privacy around here?
By Stephanie Creek