Post by Tafara on Jun 30, 2008 22:01:14 GMT -5
I'm not really crazy
Chapter 1
My fish is swimming aimlessly in his little plastic bowl. The sound of rippling waves makes me nervous. Closing the book I was reading, I roll off the bed, reach for the fish bowl, and head towards my window. I dump the water and the fish over the edge. That sound won’t bother me anymore.
I place the empty bowl back on the table and reach for a thick, brown book on the higher shelf. I sprawl out on the carpet, and start turning through the pages of what’s Darville High’s most recent yearbook. My heart chokes. I come across a group picture of three faces I will never forget: Christine Dixon, Holley Bell, and Paris Fairway.
These bitches had everything going for them. And I hated that. The clothes, the hair, the nails, the make-up, the bags, the guys, the money, the stupid, naked little dogs: what more could a girl want?
The first day of my sophomore year, in the parking lot, Holley backed her newly-painted red BMW into the side of my Ford pickup truck. It looked like someone had taken a giant-sized lipstick tube and smeared it over my side door. And still, she had the nerve to get out from her car, and, with each pink heel glistening in the sunlight, clickety-clack her way over to me just to say-
“I think you should watch we’re you’re going.”
“I was in park, dumbass.” I had given the most reasonable explanation I could think of. Small snickers had arisen from the forming crowd. Holley then got back in her car and drove off, but not before lifting an eyebrow and smacking her lips. That’s the kind of thing that really pisses me off.
Now, my eyes skim over the line above their picture. It reads “Queens of Darville.” Paris is in the middle with Christine and Holley on either side. They’re all sitting with legs crossed on a dark leather couch. I can almost hear their laughter through the picture and taste the lemonade spilling out of their glasses. That night, Christine, Holley, and Paris had been glowing in their designer gowns and diamond stud earrings.
In the same moment, a smirk creeps its way across my face. A feeling of guilt makes me laugh.
“R.I.P. We will always miss you.” is written below in a cursive font.
My mind collides with the last memory of seeing the Queens. In fact, they didn’t live more than a few minutes after that photo was taken. I remember it. I was there. I witnessed it. Oh, and another thing…
I had everything to do with it, too.
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That's her first chapter. She'll be sending more later. What do you think? What should she change?
Chapter 1
My fish is swimming aimlessly in his little plastic bowl. The sound of rippling waves makes me nervous. Closing the book I was reading, I roll off the bed, reach for the fish bowl, and head towards my window. I dump the water and the fish over the edge. That sound won’t bother me anymore.
I place the empty bowl back on the table and reach for a thick, brown book on the higher shelf. I sprawl out on the carpet, and start turning through the pages of what’s Darville High’s most recent yearbook. My heart chokes. I come across a group picture of three faces I will never forget: Christine Dixon, Holley Bell, and Paris Fairway.
These bitches had everything going for them. And I hated that. The clothes, the hair, the nails, the make-up, the bags, the guys, the money, the stupid, naked little dogs: what more could a girl want?
The first day of my sophomore year, in the parking lot, Holley backed her newly-painted red BMW into the side of my Ford pickup truck. It looked like someone had taken a giant-sized lipstick tube and smeared it over my side door. And still, she had the nerve to get out from her car, and, with each pink heel glistening in the sunlight, clickety-clack her way over to me just to say-
“I think you should watch we’re you’re going.”
“I was in park, dumbass.” I had given the most reasonable explanation I could think of. Small snickers had arisen from the forming crowd. Holley then got back in her car and drove off, but not before lifting an eyebrow and smacking her lips. That’s the kind of thing that really pisses me off.
Now, my eyes skim over the line above their picture. It reads “Queens of Darville.” Paris is in the middle with Christine and Holley on either side. They’re all sitting with legs crossed on a dark leather couch. I can almost hear their laughter through the picture and taste the lemonade spilling out of their glasses. That night, Christine, Holley, and Paris had been glowing in their designer gowns and diamond stud earrings.
In the same moment, a smirk creeps its way across my face. A feeling of guilt makes me laugh.
“R.I.P. We will always miss you.” is written below in a cursive font.
My mind collides with the last memory of seeing the Queens. In fact, they didn’t live more than a few minutes after that photo was taken. I remember it. I was there. I witnessed it. Oh, and another thing…
I had everything to do with it, too.
----------------------------------------------------------------
That's her first chapter. She'll be sending more later. What do you think? What should she change?
