Not Quite Dead

Prologue

New story! Okay, I know I have some explaining to do ): I have officially put both of my other stories on hold at the moment, and trust me it's not something I'm proud of. I hate that I put stuff up for you to read, and I betray you by never updating. I honestly just CAN'T upload those two stories, I've tried time and time again but I just don't know how to continue. I will go back to them, but I can't tell you how soon that will be and for that I am SO sorry.

I can understand where you might not want to read this because you think I might hold it like my other stories but, to be told in all truthfulness, I really think this story is going to go places. I've already written the first chapter so if you guys like it I will upload as soon as possible.

Thanks so much! I hope you like it (: The first couple chapters are always a bit on the slow side, but bear with me, it will get better.

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Mother sat at the front wheel, laying farther into the ketchup and mustard stained driver's seat than was legal to do while driving. Another one of her spiritual novels she was so obsessed with reading was perched up against the sticky steering wheel, as every now and then she spares a glimpse at the book reading it at the same time she was driving. My younger sister sat in the passenger seat, much too young to be permitted to sit there. Yet she sat there anyways. My mother wasn't the biggest stickler for rules, hint why she allowed my four year old sister to sit in the driver's seat and why she continesly read excerpts from her book while in the midst of driving. Karalee, my sister, was examining the new fuchsia pink gloves mother had bought her.

Karalee, my sister, was examining the new fuchsia pink gloves mother had bought her at the drugstore we stopped a break about two hours back. We had also bought four Cokes, two packs of gum-fruity for mom, minty for me-, a Snickers bar for Karalee, a bag of chips coated with powder cheese-most of the powder now on Karalee's lips-, and of course the gloves which Karalee had a major fuss to get.

I sat in the back, my forehead pressed against the icy window as I look out at the scenery rush by in a blur of green and brown, my headphones stuck in my ears as always as I listen to the flow of the music I was deeply obsessed with. Mother stopped at a red light and took this time to read another paragraph from her religious novel. It was quite ironic to watch my mother engrossed in a book solely about God since she never took the chance, or even considered taking the chance, to bring my sister and I to church. I recall asking Mother why I didn't go to Sunday school like all the other girls with blonder hair pulled back in pigtails and pretty pink dresses. She had licked her lips and pretended to concentrate on the Sudoku puzzle in her lap before tilting her head in my direction and asking,

"What would you like for diner tonight, Lisa dear?"

I had answered with a muffled,

"Spaghetti."

Which caused her to rise from her seat and head to the kitchen in search of an up-to-date bottle of tomato sauce. She was oblivious to the fact that I knew she was trying desperately to avert my attention on the subject. To distract me. In fact I always knew. I could always see through her happy-go-lucky-mom-and-secretary-at-the-same-time façade. I noticed when she would always leave the house at precisely 10:12 every Sunday night and come back with a bouquet of sunflowers in her hands and a fresh batch of tears leaking down her face. I always saw the red ruby necklace that clung to my mother's neck when she was going out for special occasions, and the pain hidden in her beautiful blue teal blue eyes whenever she wore it. But I never asked her about it in fear of her answer.

Shaking my head, ridding my mind of all thoughts obtaining to the soft subject, I strained to stay focused on the yellow lady bug in the corner of the outside of the car window. Over the years, I had trained myself to focus on the smaller things for if you look and think too hard you notice things that you would rather not see. Once the walls of innocence have crumbled you are thrown head first into a world of things you'd rather not see. You'd rather block out. To not think about.

I strained even harder now to focus my thoughts on the yellow lady bug. It has seven spots, five on one wing and two on the other wing. Not like the pictures of ladybugs that always have three spots on each wing. Has it always been yellow? Or was it read at first but turned yellow after the stress of all that is a ladybug's life. I made a mental note to look up whether or not ladybugs always start out red but then turn different colors later on in life. Maybe I could find a book about ladybugs when I go to the library to pick up a couple of books with good looking titles. Since it always seems that if the title of the book is good the book is usually good as well. Never judge a book by it's cover, but you can judge it by the title. Or at least it is so in my opinion.

After I find the library and all. It dawned on me that I would have to find everything again. The discoveries I had made back in Ridgerstone would have to be found again. A lifetime of things searched for and things found was now dissolved; all to be built back up again. It felt as though my life had been a waste, succeeding in goals, building bonds, strengthening knowledge all to be washed away in one simple word.

"Moving."

I'm not sure how possible it is to hate two syllables with such a passion, yet I did. I had been attached to Ridgerstone. The soft grass coated hills had given me comfort the time a group of girls had gung up on me during gym class and had left me with a blotchy blue eye and a cut lip. The tall, brandishing trees had given me happiness in my deepest times of blue. The daffodil-filled meadow had given me light in the periods where all that surrounded me was darkness. The people, well, I didn't acre for as much,

I had never been very, how might you say it...popular. In fact I was quite the opposite. Never talking to anyone without the letters "Mrs." In front of their name. Being social just wasn't what I was accustomed to. Besides no one likes a dead girl anyways.

Yes, that's right. My name is Liesl, as in the sixteen year old girl in Sound of Music. I have dark black hair that cascades down my back in curls. Eyes that are never one color. Pale white skin that at times looks transparent. I have an odd passion for reading sci-fi novels and my favorite Disney character is Pinocchio. I'm sixteen years old, and I'm dead. On the inside I'm dead; on the outside I'm nearing that point. Me, Liesl Queue, am not quite dead.

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Sorry if it's a bit too sad for you, but the whole point of the story is that she is depressed. But I promise that will change in the near yet distant future (;

If you like it please vote, comment, and fan! If you don't like it comment on different ways I could change it to make it better.

Random Reason to Vote: The only animals that can't jump are elephants.

I love you guys, thanks for reading!