By Rac7hel "fan fiction" Rice and smac"Vlad"972

I’D  never really given much thought to the way I'd die.  But all I knew was that I didn't want to live a stereotype - I had reason to in the next 400 pages, but I never imagined it'd be this bad.

Have you ever felt as if your life was planned for you?  Some crazy wet dream of a middle aged Mormon housewife?  That goes on and on and on?  I never thought that, but, I've never really been good at thinking. 

That much as I knew as my mom drove me to the airport past a slew of Volvo dealerships, all shiny and impressive and as the car drove to the airport, I imagined their purpose.  For downtown lattés.  For summer nights.  For beach front BBQ’s.  People would drive their Volvos for life.  Likely with affordable options and many luxurious, reasonably priced add ons.   Along the way, a trumpeting symphony began to inseminate itself in my subconscious.  A symphony that announced that I, average American girl, who was more attractive than I imagined myself, would achieve incredible things through her own merit.  I would rival Erin Brockovich as an icon for female strength and liberty.  The rest of my story has not and would not have been told a thousand times before in second rate teen romances.  Clearly, tense would be a problem and the thought of “insemination” both fascinated and horrified me.  That much I knew.     

You’re probably wondering what I was wearing that day, and I’d tell you, because it was a farewell gesture, but I don’t remember.  I have spent a good enough amount of time trying to remember exactly what I was wearing, because in any type of momentous life changing event, the ability to describe in detail what one was wearing has always been  of a certain magnitude of which I still struggle to understand.  I, am of course, only human.  But I do remember my carry on item was “Pride and Prejudice”.  My English teacher had suggested it but I couldn’t make it past the first few pages, instead choosing to be surly on the plane.  The characters in that book just seemed too, threee dimensional for me.  Why was I surly?  You have to understand, I wasn’t happy to be moving to a new town.  I was in a situation I’d never heard of before.  I was a new girl in a small town, a fish out of water, so to speak, and about to meet whole variety of people I’d never seen before.  Somehow, I felt, I’d be outcast, and have to earn their affection.  My hope was that if I were surly enough and seemingly ungrateful, I could achieve that.

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(Thank you all for your recommendations - it really is motivation to write more - it's so much funto write and we both still laugh out loud at some parts...still...)

Stella Chastity moves into a teen romance and spends three hours thinking what it'd be like having a sex with a vampire.


Relax, Stephanie Myers, we kid!

We kid! I adore Stephanie Myers, Judy Blume and the guy who wrote "Where's Waldo?"

A collaborative effort between myself and acid-tongued Rac7hel.

updated Jan 22 '11 by smac972