Cinnamon Swirl #28. (WIP title) Impossible Love
Author: Sarah Silverback
Universe: Impossible Love (this would be a new story of mine)
Rating: This chapter is PG but the story will probably be PG-13, because I may curse later.
Flavor(s): Cinnamon Swirl #28 ties that bind (I'm thinking this story will only be CS, because I want to finish one).
Toppings/Extras: Cherry (I think I used 'you' more then everbefore) Gummy Bunnies (writer's group friend shared the 'red string, silver heart' idea with me/us. This would just be my take on it, with RATs prompts).
Wordcount: 471-ish (I don't trust Google's counting).
Warnings: I talk about divorce, so if that upsets anyone...
Notes: I'm not used to writing in this "style" or this POV. My sister (blackflamingo77) wrote in this POV once (she never finished the story), and I really liked it, and I've wanted to write in second POV ever since. I thought this story was perfect for second. - I'd like comments of any sort. I know my grammer needs help, but I'd like some constructive criticism, please. There is a line underlined. Google thinks it's weird, but I don't think so, so I have underlined it so everyone can see it. Please tell me if it correct. Now, on to the story!
You wake up on Saturday like always, laying on your side, facing the window; the window that looks out at the garden; the garden with roses, purple queen, and the birch tree you love to sit under; the tree your father, Leland Hines, carved his name into, declaring his love for your mother, Darla Jennings-Hines.
You pull your blanket off, the blanket your grandmother, Terry Bailey-Jennings quilted for your sixteenth birthday; the quilt made of your favorite colors, the colors of Halloween, purple, orange, and black.
You swing your legs over the bed, and slip your feet into your slippers, the plain brown ones you bought last month. You glance over at your phone and pick it up off the bedside cabinet. You notice a text from your father; he canceled plans; again.
You stand and make your way to your closet, but stop and stare at your reflection in the mirror; the one hanging by the closet. You aren't alarmed to see your brown shoulder blade length hair's a mess. It always is, when you first get up. You peer into your eyes; the blue eyes you got from your great grandmother, Lori Barton-Bailey. You aren't surprised to see no tears; to see no emotions. When you were ten, your father, Leland, told you a story you believed at the time, but have since decided to abandon.
"There is a red string attached to the pinkies of one's fated to love one another," he had explained. You, in awe of anything your father said, watched his mouth form his every word. "And a silver wire connects the hearts of true lovers." He had placed his hands on your shoulders, and focused on your eyes. "Tasha Dikla Hines," he only used your full name when he was serious. "The thread between your mother and I... is bare. You are just a child, Tasha, but I'm sure you have noticed. Your mother and I... We are separating."
You touch the cold glass of the mirror, and witness the tears streaming down your face. You were about twelve when your mother won full custody over you and your younger brother, Gayle. That was four years ago. You haven't been able to see your father much since. Now, you don't think much of the story; the story of the red string. But you wonder if your father believed "fate" caused him to fall out of love, and lose his children.
You disregard the tale, and push it from your mind. You don't want to remember. You brush the tears from your face and pull clothes from their drawers. You dress quickly, wishing to escape. You grab your bag and keys, and reach for the door handle. You stop short, your hand out in front of you.
There's a red string tied to your pinkie.