Personal Narrative: Short Story: Mr. Lion '

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Mr. Lion I grow up under glances with disdain and fear. Everyone says I am delusional. Everyone thinks I am the greatest shame possible for a family as large as mine in the town. The cause is my innate ability to communicate with animals. However, I never take it as a shame, but feel quite proud of the world it brings to me. Therefore, I spend almost all my time with animals in my parents’ circus. The town is the home base of the circus. Every spring we travel westward to different towns, and turn our way back in the beginning of summers. My parents keep the travelling circus to the west of the home base because the home base locates on most east of the peninsula. The circus is famous among all groups of people, from dukes to peasants. When I am about ten, my parents spend a significant amount of money to buy the first lion here. I call him Mr. Lion. My memory of the first day I met Mr. Lion is still as clear as a mirror. He was there, in the noisy crowd, which looked like a group of sparrow occupied by curiousness, in the big, rusty cage. To my surprise, he did not seem to be pleased to be the focus of so many people. He kept his back towards the crowd, avoiding any one seeing his face. His action, his muscle, and even his hairs, seemed to be so inconsistent with the surrounding. At that moment, a strange idea rose in my mind that he did not belong here. That idea was planted, deep and inerasable, with the sign of giving rise to a forest. Suddenly, it began to hail. Solid

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