The Tombstone

The Beginning

Hey guys! Thanks so much for giving my story a try!

Just a small disclaimer here, this is one of the first stories I ever wrote, so the writing might not be as top notch (in my opinion) as my latest novels I've written. But nevertheless, I hope you enjoy the story as much as I did writing it!

Also, just letting you guys know first before you start reading, I do switch back and forth between POV's a few times, so don't be too confused. Of course when it says "I" in the sentence it is in Stephanie's POV. Also, when the words are written in italics, that's when you know it's also in Stephanie's POV. And when it says "she" then it is back in the third person. When Stephanie is dreaming, writing and thinking, the story changes to her POV, but for the rest of the story it is in the third person. Just wanted to clear that up. Also, since this is one of my first stories, it needs a lot of editing, I'm aware of that. But I am so busy at the moment that I can't find the time to edit, but I will get around to it eventually.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy the story, and I would love it if you guys commented and gave me some feedback after. Thank you again! Hope you enjoy!

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Spring 1995...

She walked along the side of the road gently, the way her mother had always taught her.

"Be careful! And watch for cars, always!" little seven-year-old Cindy Miller's mother would tell her on the days she would walk to school. Her journey didn't take her far, it was only a ten minute walk to her elementary school, which stood a few blocks away. She had just entered the second grade that year, the year of 1994-95. It had been her second year that she stayed all day at school, which in the beginning she wasn't too fond of. She had gotten used to it by now, but she still somewhat envied the kindergarteners who got to leave in the middle of the school day. She remembered how nice it felt to pack up her coat and bag and leave through the wide, side doors which carried her on the sidewalk that would later lead her way home.

How all they did in the day at school was paint or play kitchen, or play with the tiny animals that were concealed in a box that was placed neatly under a table close to the kitchen. Cindy loved playing with the tiny, miniature animals; how they moved in ways she would imagine, and speak in the same ways she did. Tigers were her favourite. The cubs were so cute, she would think to herself. And for the remainder of the day in her small kindergarten class—that consisted of ten children— she would play in the corner, by herself with the tiny animals. She enjoyed doing her own thing, something the teachers didn't exactly understand.

"Cindy, honey, why don't you play with the other children?" one of her teachers—more like supervisors—asked her one day as she was dragged out of her big imagination and met the eyes of her teacher.

"Huh?" she asked, caught off guard in her high, squeaky voice, and then the question clicked. Her eyes lit up. "Oh. I like to play by myself. I can do things my own way and no one will bother me." She gave her teacher a small smile before turning back to her toys and beginning once again. Like the teacher wasn't even there. Her teacher, Ms. Len, kneeled down beside Cindy, and just watched her silently, listening to her tiny voices she gave the fake animals and smiled gently to herself.

Cindy was special to many teachers, especially Ms. Len. She was always quiet, but kind and sweet. Sweet natured, like her mother. Her mother taught her at a young age to respect others, and to be kind to all. As much as Cindy didn't think of those words at all, they more so sunk into her, and she adapted to them.