The Puny Girl

Angelina Jones, 13, a dark, tall and lean girl, woke one fine morning just to realize that she had turned into a puny one-inch human-like figure covered under a heavy layer of snow. She was down on the bottom, having great difficulty. She was feeling like she had been stuck under an avalanche. She remembered that she was quite normal the last night and had gone to deep sleep in her room itself after the delicious feast on that day which was Christmas Eve. As far as she could remember, she had not even moved an inch from her bed. A place full of snow was out of her wit's end. She lived on a tropical isle, from where a place full of this much snow was about a thousand, thousand miles away! 

  After a quarter of an hour, when Angelina had given up struggling, she heard a giant and hoarse roar. She feared that it was a mountain troll and to escape now would just be a huge miracle. She sat where she was, waiting for the troll to come and finish her up. She imagined herself being served to the troll’s family, ‘intestine spaghetti’, ‘eye-cream pasta’, ‘tongue-hamburger’, ‘liver soup’....- “Oh, SHUT UP! I need to stop thinking about things like that! Intestine spaghetti…. Liver soup…. Really? Well, I am in a terrible soup, but my liver won’t make soup!” Then suddenly the ‘layer of ice’ was pulled back like it was a sheet. Well, it was actually a sheet, her blanket. She looked around blankly. It was her bedroom! It was just… just that it was looking like as if it was magnified to a thousand times, making it look like a giant’s room. She gazed around to find the source of the terrifying noise. She was struck with horror! Suddenly she realized what exactly was happening. She somehow had become a lilliput! The mountain troll was a fluffy, snowy white, Persian cat named Mr. Puddles. Angelina had found Mr. Puddles a few years back in a box. Mr. Puddles and Angelina have been staying together since.

Mr. Puddles was coming straight towards Angelina, maybe he had not seen her. She didn’t know what to do. Even running would not be useful, as the speed of a liliput sprinting compared to a cat walking was like a bull being chased by a cheetah. She had lost hope. Then suddenly there was a loud thud, followed by many groans and moans. Angelina was lying under her bed, with Mr. Puddles, sitting on her bed, was staring at her, transfixed. And there she lay confused, counting the stars above her head. Her mother came rushing in.

“Angelina? Angelina! Are you okay?”

“Yes, mum.”

“Are you sure? And what was it?”

“I’m fine. It was just one of those nightmares…”

“How many of those do you have every night?” she smiled meekly, “and get up quick, it’s 7:30 already, you wouldn’t want to be late for the first day of your school.”

“Yeah,” Angelina said, and walked towards the bathroom, her face fully red.

                                               THE END