Monday, March 28, 2011

The Lion

Agnes cautiously approached the sleeping lions. The African sun beat down on her as she raised her camera. Others would have used the camera’s zoom from a safe distance, but the picture quality was never very good, and she wasn’t afraid of the lions.
The gathering of beasts were lying beneath the shadows of a small group of trees. They were all aware of Agnes’s presence and they weren’t concerned at all. She was obviously alone, having left her jeep a good fifty feet away and her baggy t-shirt made it more than a little clear that she wouldn’t be any kind of a good meal, humans didn’t taste very good anyways.
Finding the perfect angle she started taking pictures.
One lion yawned.
“Oh perfect,” she whispered snapping away.The true essence of the lion during the day: a sleepy fur ball with a mouthful of teeth.
The sun was beginning to set when she was done, drawing her hand across her sweating forehead she unclasped the water bottle off her leather belt and took a long drink.
Taking one last look at the pride, she raised her bottle in a salute.
“Thanks a lot my friends.” She took another swig.
Slinging her camera over her shoulder she headed back to the jeep, satisfied with her days work.

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