A/N - The town Grevansdale is a made up name, to be honest I don't even think there is a town in Australia called that. But who would know? Anyway, I'd just like to let you know that this is a new story that I am working on. I have no idea how it's going to turn out. Seeing as I have only written the first chapter, I don't know what people will think.
I'd also like to let you know that this has not bee edited, I just wrote it on the new story link in wattpad. I didn't write it on Microsoft Word or anything. So I'm reallyyyyyyy sorry if there are mistakes. But you cannot get too angry with me, as we ALL make mistakes! (:
So please take a spare few minutes to check it out, vote, comment, become a fan, or whatever floats your boat. Although I very much so would like some feedback, so I know whether to continue or not.
Thanks a bunch! I hope you enjoy (:
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Today was the day, today was finally the day.
The day that I could show how much I enjoyed what I do and how much fun I can have with it.
I was going to spend a few hours with the local band, to gather some confidence and help to get timing with my songs correct. I had never sung with a band before, so it's going to be a great new experience that will help me in the future. Yes, it only seems small now, but down the track it will help me immensely.
I walked lazily out of my bedroom and down the hallway, into the kitchen.
My family and I live in a small country town in Victoria, Australia. We are not the richest people, and we don't live like the people in the city do. We make enough money to live off of, and extra to buy the things we want. There are 4 kids in my family, meaning we cannot get as much stuff as we would like, as there is more than one child to accomodate to. I get most things I want, so I cannot complain, my life is quite good although some aspects I would like to change.
Our house is not double storey, but I like it that way. You don't need more than one floor to be cool or popular, or even have friends. In small town such as Grevansdale, the people who are your friends, are your true friends. They are the people that love you for who you are, and don't care what you look like, who you talk to and what you wear.
"Indyannah!" My Dad yelled from his bedroom.
"Yes, Dad?" I replied.
"Where is my work shirt?" He asked, and I gracefully swept it off of the couch as I passed throuh the loungroom.
"Here, Dad. You really need to stop leaving things lying around you know?" He gave me a cheeky smile and slowly walked over to me. I paced back a few steps and started running.
"No, Dad, no. Please don't!" I knew he was going to tickle me, he always did when I said something he didn't like. It was his way of punishing me. In all honestly, I think I would rather have him hit me then tickle me. I am so ticklish it's really not funny. I laugh for about 5 seconds then start crying cause i hate it so much. I get that from my Mum, she's also very ticklish and Dad knows it as well.
He caught up to me and grabbed me around the waist and started tickling me in all the places that it could be possible to be tichlish in. My neck, my legs, my stomach, everywhere! It's just never ending.
When he finally stoppped I got up off of the ground where I had doubled over and walked to to kitchen, breathless might I add. I hated it when he did that to me. It was like being in prison, but worse! Although I don't know what prison is like as I have never been though. But I have read that prison is quite nice, maybe I should change my saying then. Perhaps it should be 'It's like rotten eggs smashed all over your face, with the small hanging around for days, only worse.' Yep, that fits quite well.
