((This was written as a writing exercise for my creative writing class.  We were given the first sentence and told to write the rest.  This story is all mine.  Do not post it anywhere else without my permission.  All comments can go to Lucretia@jenovaproject.com ))

Real Life

It all began when someone left the window open. Anna stared out at the vibrant, colorful, summers day, then looked back inside at her own monochromatic existence. Her pink bedroom. The pink sheets. The pink carpet. The pink bedspread. She was 16, but her parents wouldn't let her change her room. She looked at her pink closet door. If she opened it, she'd see the rows of pretty, stylish, pastel clothes. She'd see the pretty white shoes, the pretty dolls all in rows. Her teddy bear sat, picture perfect, on her bed-picture perfect because she never played with it, never hugged it even once, since her parents bought it for her.
She stared out the window at the clear blue sky. Far above her, a bird drifted by on an unknown course. She turned around and began to pull the comforter off her bed. Out went the comforter. Anna smiled. Out went the sheets. Out went the clothes. Out went the dolls. Out went the teddy bear. Anna looked at her handiwork, her smile fading. The walls were still pink. The carpet was still pink. She smiled. Out went Anna.

Three days later, the parents held the funeral. The makeup artist had done a wonderful job. Anna looked beautifully calm and serene lying there in her pink satin coffin in her lovely pink dress, holding her favorite teddy bear.
"Isn't she so lifelike," her parents exclaimed, wearing identical, perfect smiles.