Hi, I'm Lizzie, I'm 23 and I love to write- stories, poems, blogs, anything really- and this is a blog to document all of that, so I hope you enjoy reading some of my favourite pieces. The stories are in parts so you can follow your favourite story as it progresses- they all have specific labels at the bottom so if you click it, it'll take to all the passages from that story- and I promise to try and write the next parts regularly. :)

Saturday, 21 June 2014

Lost in the Forest- Part 7

As he looked around, he realised where he was standing, as he had been here once before to secretly deliver a fur coat that had been made from a snow leopard.  He was stood in the foyer of Buckingham Palace.
His mouth was wide and gaping but he didn't bother to close it, certain that most people walked in and did that anyway. The two men from the helicopter were no where to be seen; he was alone. Before him was a huge mahogany staircase with velvet stairs and a golden railing; on the walls were ancient oil paintings and portraits in intricate frames, alongside the plaques of slain animal heads- which, after spending so much time in the company of nature, made him feel nauseous; the carpet was patterned with gaudy diamonds in cream and blue colours; the doors were large and matched the wood of the stairs; there were two rooms either side of him, one was separated by a closed door and the other was through an arch. As he studied the adjoining room more closely, he could see a glass coffee table in front of a white leather sofa, the floor was wooden and a long rug covered most of it in the centre, where the sofa was. But as he entered the room and looked at the rug more closely, he saw what it was. The snow white fur of a polar bear was lain delicately in place and the head was by his feet as it snarled at him, forever frozen by death in such a grimace. His hand flew up to his mouth as he choked in horror and disgust. Backing away, he turned to run out of the room, lit brightly by the sun coming in through the two bay windows behind the sofa. 
“Daniel Parker,” a sudden voice made him stop, cold.
Turning around, he saw a man behind him. He was dressed in a suit and his hair was neatly combed back.
“Father?” he gasped.

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