Prompt #1

Tell a story from the perspective of a painting in a museum.

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I am a painting. A painting that many people all around the world come to see. I am the Mona Lisa.

Being one of the most famous paintings in the world may seem glamorous but it's not.

Mainly it's just being in this particular museum. People constantly flicking and clicking their camera flashes in my face. Then there are others who critique my face or hair.

I'm either too ugly or too perfect. Can't I just be regular??

But today was especially different for me compared to my usual routine. Today was the day that the president visited me. And I hadn't found out until he was already here.

"We came two hours early for nothing?!?" a red head yelled at a guard.

"Ma'am it'd be in your best interest to-" the gaurs was cut off.

"Oh my gosh Lydia! It's the president! He's here!" someone yelled.

The red head who I assume was named Lydia turned and immediately shushed.

I followed her gaze to see mr. President. And he was walking straight towards me. Mona Lisa.

Once he was in front of me he said something that had me smiling internally for the rest of the day.

"She's such a lovely creation. Oh she's such a beauty. I want her in the house. How much is she??"

And from then on I was a White House painting. Forever being admired by millions but with no flashing constantly in my face.

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