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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1368061-Chapter-1-The-Letter
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by Mari Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 18+ · Chapter · Romance/Love · #1368061
My first novel
Chapter 1

Celeste stood alone, still—numb. As she looked down at the flowers in her hands and the length of the white satin gown that flowed to the snow covered ground, she could only wonder how this could have happened.

Her tears finally stopped flowing. Her heart was no longer racing, and her breathing had slowed. Normal, that’s how she seemed at the moment.

She had asked for a moment alone, and then slipped out the back door of the church. Celeste didn’t want to acknowledge the look of pity on their faces, the rush of people to console her, or the uncomfortable remarks they would make in an attempt to make her feel better. Alone. That’s how she wished to be. Perhaps outside in the cold wasn’t her best idea. The temperature was falling along with fresh tiny snowflakes.

Everything that could go wrong did! It began when her alarm didn’t go off, continued when her car broke down on the way to the church and it wasn’t getting any better now that her fiancé stood her up at the alter and her head was pounding. You can’t get much worse than that.

Her stomach clenched as she continued pacing behind the church until the last car finally pulled away. She placed her hand on her stomach and gently rubbed the slight bulge where her unborn child lay. She was exhausted, ready to collapse by the time she reached her apartment.

Still reeling from Taylor’s disappearance at the alter and unwilling to deal with her emotions, Celeste grabbed a few of her belongings and stuffed them into a duffel bag and returned to her car and sped off, swearing never to return. Destination unknown.

Heartbroken but determined Celeste kept driving as fresh, hot tears began to streak her face once again. The tears burned down her cheeks. She wasn’t paying attention to which way she was going and didn’t really care at this point. Celeste only wanted to be as far away as she could.

The night was eerily quiet. She drew to a stop and stared up at the sky, wishing the pain away. Emotionally battered, she wiped the tears from her eyes, willing herself not to cry any more.

Celeste had never intended on driving so far. As a matter—of—fact, she had never intended on coming here at all, but yet, here she was at a place she had once called home. Another place Celeste had sworn never to return.

As her car came to a stop in the driveway, she glanced up at the old house next door. The house was two stories tall, the paint fading and peeling with age. There were many broken windows to which Celeste assumed was caused from children playing around. The yard remained overgrown with weeds from lack of attention. It looked just as it did when she left Oakhaven. The once beautiful, vibrant home now had a look and feel of sadness and neglect.

It was the home of her best friend at one time. The same home where she had lived and died at the age of thirteen. Miranda hadn’t just died a natural death. She died a most horrific death. She was murdered. Murdered by her own father after her mother left him. Celeste couldn’t get the thoughts from her mind. He hadn’t known how to face the world without her and couldn’t convince her to come back to him. After a week of pleading and begging, he shot his daughter and then took his own life. For years, Celeste shivered every time she walked by that house. Once she graduated, she moved away and shortly after fell in love with Taylor. Four years later they became engaged. Now, six months later, they were history. Taylor decided he wouldn’t show up at the church and she didn’t hang around for an explanation. Nothing he could say to her would be a good enough reason to leave her standing there. She neglected to tell him she was carrying their child.

Determined to put all of that behind her, she took a deep breath and began walking up the darkened path of the driveway. She stopped for a minute to admire the moonlight just a few yards from the front porch. It had been a few years since she’d been home. After Miranda’s murder and her parents’ death, she felt no desire to be here. But now, with all of this fresh pain, Celeste found herself longing to be home.

In a daze of memories from the past, she began climbing the cement stairs. The house looked better than she had expected. She sat on the porch swing remembering the numerous times she and Miranda sat on that same swing making plans for the following day.

Suddenly, the back door opened. At the same second, the porch light came on.
© Copyright 2007 Mari (mari42 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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