Yearly || Clifford

cliff .8

Zoe Finn

Writing is a favorite past time of mine.

When I'm sad, write.

When I'm angry, write.

When I'm tired, write.

When I'm, okay I think you get it.

A guess to why I love to create stories, could be that I just enjoy putting my thoughts on paper.

It could also be that I wished so desperately to live a different life, I created one on a page.

It could be that since my father's death, and the boredom of my life without him, the only way to get away was through a pen.

Sure, these are all most likely true points, but I think my writing comes from the fact that all I can ever do is wait and to fill that sense of time dragging on, I make words into stories.

Wait for my father to call and say he has enough money to move me to Australia.

Wait for my mother to stop calling me to make sure I will still send her money.

Wait for phone to ring and the big name company tell Jaxon and I we got the job.

Naturally, from the need to write and the endless queue I call my life, I have started writing a book.

Books take an immense amount of time, something I always have available. So whenever I wait, I write. My arms are constantly covered in words and mistakes. If I'm wearing shorts my legs are stories too.

There are countless napkins in my purse with parts of the story that I think of when waiting for my food to come.

Tonight, well I guess it's the morning, I have to write one chapter, there are only twelve more until the end. Chapters are a tradition I had with my dad, every night we would sit on the porch and write a chapter for our books, the stars high above our heads. Instead now my blinds are drawn and glasses adorn my face.

I'm too stressed out to focus on my writing and my head is thinking about when the company will call Jax and I, what if we don't get the job. I glance at my phone for the time, seeing it is twelve minutes after two am. My eyes snap oven when the date is exclaimed. January third, the metor shower. Every year my father and I would watch the comets shoot out of the sky. I suddenly notice I have walked to my car and subconsciously started driving to the only place where waiting isn't a problem.

The cliff.

I have lived in Chicago my whole life, when I was eleven, my dad drove me the long drive to the cliff. According to him, it was a magical place, where soulmates meet for the first time. I have since cast the idea of soulmates from my mind, but I always dreamed of meeting someone there. However everytime I drive up, no cars have been waiting for me.

Every time I drive around the bend on the gravel road, my heart rate quickens, when I think perhaps I can share this beautiful veiw with someone, anyone, and every time, I'm disappointed.

This time is an exception.

A guy is sitting on the hood of his car looking up at the sky above him. I wonder if he knows there will be a metor shower tonight. I step out of my small car and start over to the boy. A smile is sent is way as my mother's voice rings in my ears, smiling is the first thing to do when meeting someone.

I am almost at his black Jeep when he speaks, "Did you run out of clothes and use your sheet as a sweatshirt?" His voice was rough and had a similar dilect as Jaxson, though I doubt he is an aussie.

My feet stop midstep, I surely must've heard him wrong, his passive face tells me I didn't. I focus on him, trying to come up with a witty response. In high school I was on the improv team, so I already know my next move, I just have to continue to stare at him. He was attractive, so it wasn't that hard of a task.

"Take a picture it will last longer." He talks cockly, total turn off. I move my eyes down to his crotch, when I feel him notice and blurt out, "Do you want to fuck?" I snapped my eyes up to his own.

"God no," I let out a chuckle, "I was trying to decide if you had a dick or if you just were one." I leaned forwqard and spoke in a loud whisper, "I think I'll go with the later."

The young man looked blankly at me then, much to my dismay, burst into laughter, "It has been a long time since anyone has sassed me like that."

I sent him a quick smile, "What is your name?"

"Michael Clifford, and you are?" He said cheekly. "Zoe Finn. Did you purposely come out here for the metor shower?" I question suddenly.

Nice going Zoe, that's the conversation you start with this attractive stranger?

He just chortled lightly, "Yes I did. Back home my best friend and I would watch it every year."

I smiled at him, "Well, what do you know Michael? I would watch this shower ever year with my father."

We smiled at one another and I spoke, "I guess its just a yearly tradition for us."

"Yeah," He broke eye contact and squinted at the ground, "A tradition we both need to break."

(AN hey yall

okay so these chapters are going to be seemingly short, but I am writing two at the same time so I guess that counts as two stories????

also AM hit 900 reads today and I freaked out so I came up with a new story :)))) yeahhh its an Irwin fic and is called Thirty Needles, pls can you tell me what you think of it????

Oh and sorry about any spelling errors my phone's screen stopped working so I wrote this on my computer

Faith)