Nothing but the plot is mine. En-hoy.
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They say you shouldn't stick to the beaten track. You know what I mean, right? For most people, when it snows and they don't want to ruin the prettiness, they walk where other people have dared walk. And for the other people that have realised that the snow isn't going to last forever, they're the ones who have formed that path. The human race is designed to do what they think is right, not what is necessarily right. And me? I'm no different, even when presented with the opportunity.
I was 16 when my Mom asked me if I wanted to move to Paris with her for the next branch of her fashion in economics course. I knew I would be setting myself up for imminent downfall had I agreed-I'd jetsetted around London, Madrid, Tokyo and Sydney already holding the arm of a new friend and a new pair of peace-offering sunglasses each time, a feeling deep in the pit of my stomach making me very aware that at any moment I could be pulled from the grasp of each respective blonde/brunette/neon pink girl from the candid snapshots that adorned my scrapbook.
I was small town at heart, after all. I'd spent the first six years of my life where I was supposed to be right now, bored out of my skull with logarithms and iambic pentameter, and now a sense of nostalgia and a push towards what appeared to be the right decision was sending me that-a-ways, back to the abode of my grandma Delilah who was all too happy to see me. And I was 16, like I said, so I was essentially in charge of my own life and my own decisions. The most glamorous cities in the world did nothing to juice up my motivation for my own life-instead it made me realise how inferior I really was. And while my Mom made no attempt to grow up and wipe the imprints of stars in her eyes, I could see all too well a ghastly image of her rained-on form underneath the rusting slats of the Eiffel Tower. I wanted to spare myself of a real life vision-Polaroid of that scene, and so I headed from LAX straight to Indigo Falls and into Lil's loving arms and her kitchen full of freshly baked cookies.
"You're so pretty now, Mitchie." She smiled, her eyes shiny with emotion. "I remember when you were this big." She put her hand by her knees with some difficulty. "Your room is still the same! We haven't changed a thing."
Ok, so Lil was a little backwards. But she had something Mom lacked severely-the love-light in her eyes. People say that your Mom is the only one in the world who truly wants anything good for you, ever. But I think Connie Torres disproved that theory, with the help of Delilah right here.
"Argh!" I covered my eyes, fishing in my pockets instantaneously for the promised Prada lenses that shielded me from the glaring yellow wallpaper adorning the walls of my childhood room. Raggedy Ann sat merrily on a flower-shaped cushion, a patchwork quilt underneath and books scattered all over the white shelf-units Dad helped put up before he died three years ago.
"Do you like it?" Delilah asked, excited.
"I-....it's sick, Grandma. I love it." I told her honestly, eyeing a stuffed cow sitting on my headboard with some trepidation.
She ruffled my hair fondly and left me to unpack surrounded by my childhood desecrations of art. Good thing I'd improved by far since then.
To be honest, I never knew what I was going to get myself into anyway. Indigo was the perfect retreat from flashing lights and road rage, sufferance of the past 8 or so years. I wasn't expecting anything special to happen here. But like most things, without the experience, I couldn't be sure.
YES. I'm back. With a confusing story, I know. So did you get any of the prologue (which explains the shortness)? If you didn't, the gist of it was to confuse you slightly. But basically, Mitchie is the girl who wants a break from her whole jetsetting city life thing and she picks Indigo Falls (her made-up hometown) as the place to do it. It's a way different standard of writing from Making the Connections, I hope. Also I'm well aware nobody reads CR fanfic anymore...hoping to change that trend.
Drop me a review please? Much appreciated.
Love you all.