Burnt Toast
chapter one: a perfect sphere.
summary: when a nothing special know-it-all gets plopped in the middle of something extrodinary
a/n: my first fiction in four years.
The sky was sunny and the air was warm. A lovely breeze was wafting through the air as the trees gently swayed. Another beautiful day in another normal surburban town in the middle of Britiain. This strange string of nice weather was unusual for the normally muggy climate, but no one was about to complain. It's about time the rain tucked itself back into the clouds for a while, anyway.
On Sutton Drive there were 9 houses. They were aligned in a perfect sphere with perfectly manicured lawns. The houses never strayed from the blue, white, or gray color scheme and the families seemed almost as perfect as the bushes. But everyone knows that every family has their little secrets. Things they keep from the general population, because the court of public opinion is very fickle. Not ones to ruin tradition, the Anderson family had their fair share of secrets, too. So around Sutton Drive, onto the drive-way of house seven, through the maple door, past the grandfather clock, up the dusted stairs, and into the bedroom of one, Sally Anderson- you will find a secret.
a/n: yes, i know it's short, but i needed to start somewhere. im writing more as you read this, so do not fret. constructive critism is always welcome and always considered. thanks so much reading and leave me a note! i love to read what you all have to say. thanks, guys!