Finn's Exodus (lipogram)

                Finn sits in his enclosure secluded from wildlife. Boys. Girls. They eye him intently from the other side of the enclosure. Must be some school fieldtrip, he thought. He’s used to the sight of people by now. He is seldom disturbed when the zookeepers come to give him his food. Even so, Finn desires very much to be free from confinement. The zoo is no home for me, Finn would mutter quietly to himself. Finn continuously desired to see the world. He lived in the city, yet could never see it or touch it.

                But this doesn’t involve not trying to flee the zoo, since Finn tried countlessly to. He sought to get out of the zoo; find somewhere which resembled his visions. Jungles thick with trees. Sweet fruit which left juice on his chin when he picked it from the tree before biting into it. Finn spent most of his time by himself, thinking of the wondrous domicile he desired.

                Due to the point he felt lonely, (Finn possessed his own enclosure) he developed the tendency to invent friends.             

 “But this is the existent world, Finn. The one right in front of you. First, you must get out of the zoo. Then, you will be efficient enough to pursue this hope of finding your own home.”

Succeeding closing hours, Bill the zookeeper opened Finn’s enclosure to give him his dinner of ripe fruit. Bill found him lying limp on the cement floor which possessed numerous tints of green (in effort to seem more ‘jungle-like”). Bill hollered for Christopher, the chief zookeeper of the monkeys.

When Christopher entered the enclosure, he found Finn held by Bill. He didn’t seem to be conscious. Christopher took one look upon the monkey. He knew Finn since Christopher first got his job working for the zoo. Christopher felt sorry for the poor monkey. He knew how much Finn felt lonely, cooped up in his enclosure.

“I’m sorry, Finn. You never got to see the world.” Christopher brought Finn outside into the twinkling night. Two men with shovels followed behind Christopher. They thrust the shovels into the soft ground, digging nonstop for five full minutes. Everyone who knew Finn felt remorse. He never brought grief to them, never performed mischievously. The slightest gesture for him would’ve required little effort. Provide him with better living conditions; give him the enclosure which included windows. Finn didn’t seem to request much. But Christopher felt like he could’ve helped him out somehow. Now, he could only mourn for the beloved monkey entitled Finn.

Christopher muttered goodbye to Finn, droplets sliding down his cheek, then left without one more word. The rest of the men whispered goodbye out of respect for Christopher, (for they knew too how much he felt concern for Finn) then went home.

                The zoo stood empty. Suddenly, two little brown hands emerged from the ground. Finn gulped for oxygen while he struggled to free himself from his brief entombment. When his lungs felt strong enough, he looked where he stood. For the first time, he looked upon his enclosure, but from the outside. It seemed like he were the children eyeing the zoo’s wildlife intently before him.

But he didn’t stop for too long, in distress of it being just his mind's eye.  No, he took one fleeting look upon the zoo, then scurried off into the city for his very first venture.