Random Book Of Misc. [Rhea's Extras]

Runaway Diaries

Since I haven't updated in awhile. Here's an old piece of work I wrote a couple years ago.....umm please don't steal. That's kinda tacky, don't you think?
-R H E A
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S U M M A R Y
"It started with a Volkswagen beetle-"

After losing her parents on her eighteenth birthday, Roamie Adams world crumbles. Months of mourning and spiraling into a spell of depression and being haunted by ghostly nightmares, she decides it's time to move on.

Opting to skip her freshman year of college, with her Uncle and Aunts blessings, Roamie sets out to travel and find herself again.

Fulfilling her parents missed dreams, she travels cross country. While on the road she befriends many characters from across the country.

But none leave a bigger impact than brooding aspiring singer, Dean Lincoln. And she recounts all of her misadventures in her 'Runaway Diaries.'

P R O L O G U E

Eighteen, that's the dreadful number. Eighteen birthdays....holidays....christmas cards....eighteen. It all started with a with a volkswagen beetle on my eighteenth birthday.

"Oh my god mom and dad I love it!"

My parents beamed with joy as I hopped around to admire my cars trimmings. It was an older model, but it was mine nonetheless, and for that I loved it.

I could only imagine my down to earth parents deciding what to give their eighteen year old daughter for her birthday. A new outfit, an itunes gift card, or maybe a gift card to barnes and noble, her favorite bands newest album? But a car, that was truly unexpected.

"We're glad you love it Roamie." Mom smiled her voice drifting off melodically.

Mom always had a beautiful voice, that warmed you down to your core. She was a singer, not professional of course. Her only audience were dad and I. She'd sing in the shower every morning, and sometimes when the house was utterly quiet, dad and I would listen to her sweet songs as we readied for the day.

She would sing in the garden when the spring weather was nice. She'd sing while cooking or as she tidied up the house. She loved singing in the car, she loved the lyrics, the instrumental, the meaning behind every song.

Mom loved singing so much that sometimes she would cry. I remember asking her why she was so sad, once when I was five. She smiled and played back the record.

It was Unchained Melody, a song she didn't play often. She sat me down and said that when a song is really good, it makes you sad. But the happy kind of sad. The kind that makes you want sing some more.

I never quite understood what she meant. But looking at my mom now, she looked like she was that happy kind of sad.

The cross between two emotions. Maybe it was because I was eighteen. Finally a legal adult in the state of South Carolina.

"But-" Dad firmly cut in, his voice complimented mom. It was warm, but edgier giving him a sense of realism. "You have to pay the bills, and make sure the car is always filled with gas. We payed off the whole car, you only have to pay for the insurance."

I nodded, I knew this would be a condition, and as soon as I saw that old beetle car, I accepted all the conditions. I could afford the insurance and gas on the money I earned from working at dad's sports store.