Chapter 1
Author note: Hey y'all! This is my first story. OMG! I'm super nervous. I hope you guys like it. If you don't I'll cry. (sniffs) Or I'll send DoE after you.Go easy on the reviews. This is just the beginning of what could be a very long story. Yeah long stories! Ummmm… is that it? Oh yeah! (light bulb) Hi DoE! and whoever else. Read DemonessofEvil's stories. They are great like her! That's it. Enjoy
- MissPopurock
It had been one year, six months, and five days since that day. Tears dripped onto her pillow as Rose marked another day of her calendar. But she had to be strong. Today was her dreaded wedding day. It was only for her mother. Her mother had become poor since before the sinking of Titanic. Rose's whole life went down with the ship, except one thing, Cal Hockley, her soon to be husband.
She dreaded her life after that day; not because of being poor, but because of her one true love. Nothing more devastating happened that day to her than Jack Dawson dieing. He took her heart with him. She could never move on. It seemed to be too soon. But after all, it had been a year and one-half.
The world seemed to end in front of her eyes. It was almost third person, as if she could see Rose soon-to-be-Hockley five feet away crying into her pillow. She could see the hideous wedding dress put away in her closet. It was crammed in there with all the other picture-perfect dresses.
Maybe if she closed her eyes, she would open them and she would be on the sinking Titanic and she would save Jack Dawson and get him in a lifeboat with her. Except no lifeboats were allowing men on them. What would she do? She remembered it was only her imagination, and Jack wasn't there. She wasn't on the Titanic. He was dead.
She opened her eyes and she saw glass doors. There were people surrounding her. They were rich and beautiful, like her. And there was a staircase so magnificent it could only be one thing: Titanic. But it couldn't be. It just couldn't be.
She looked down and she was wearing a dark red dress with black sequins. On her arms were elegant, white gloves. Her hair was tucked up in a perfect bun-like mess on her head. She could feel the harsh, heavy lipstick layered on top of her lips. It felt like hardened glue. The jewelry she had on was like heaving around 20 extra pounds. She felt like a dog dressed up by a four-year-old girl. Yet, everyone thought she was beautiful.
At the top of the staircase was what she thought to be the most beautiful sight her eyes would behold. There, with his gorgeous, ratty hair, stood a boy, no a man, that could almost be mistaken for… Jack Dawson!