My finger twitched slightly, effectively taking a picture. How could I not try to capture such beauty? It was the kind of beauty that must be noticed by another, for the one possessing it couldn't do so.
The picture is that of a petite girl. Her cherry red lips are pulled up in to a smile, as she attempts to push long, golden strands of hair out of her eyes. Oh, her eyes... They are the best part of her, for they can be a steely gray or such a lustrous silver, that they match with the delicate heart- shaped locket around her neck.
As she finally succeeds in the trivial task, she grins victoriously to herself. Her eyes shine oh so beautifully in the light that I snap another picture. The photo shows her mouth slightly ope, just enough to see a glimpse of her pearly white teeth. Her locket is reflecting the light from the lamppost and her light dress is slightly blown back by the wind. You may say she is just photogenic, but you would be wrong. Like all of those kids at her school- how hadn't they noticed her beauty yet?
She opens the rotting wooden gate to her garden and walks along the path, her eyes tired. The weeds tangle around the path and slightly overlap on to it. She trips on a stray plant, before regaining her footing a second after. Her hair swirls around her shoulders as she looks around to check nobody has seen. After checking her surroundings, she slips in to the run-down house.
As soon as I'm satisfied that she is inside, I turn around and begin my journey home. As I walk, thoughts of sterling eyes, cherry lips and heart lockets swirl around my head. I am so distracted by these thought that I barely notice that I'm home. I open the lime-green door and step in to the house. Instantly, I switch the lights on and make a bee-line for the computer. I plug the camera in and upload the photos to it, before sending them to the printer. I smile as I log on to twitter and click her account name. She tweeted a little sentimental message which I screen-shotted and also sent that to printer. I repeated the process with her other social networking accounts.
I walk to the printer and collect the pictures. I begin trimming the edges of some of the photo's so that you can just see her. I grab the scrapbook and begin sticking them in. I vary the positions of the pictures on the page, just to keep things interesting. I add the date to the top right corner in black cursive handwriting. I smile to myself as I close the book. I feel the smooth black leather under my fingertips and glance at the name which always brightens my mood. There it is, in gold lettering...
Annabeth Chase
A/N: Hey, this is one of my stories from wattpad. I'm not great at updating, but I'll try to upload what I've written so far here asap. My wattpad is the same as this account name.
Bye
EllieIsNotNormal