Story cover for Fading Footsteps by staying-with-summer
Fading Footsteps
  • WpView
    Reads 31
  • WpVote
    Votes 4
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    Parts 2
  • WpHistory
    Time 8m
  • WpView
    Reads 31
  • WpVote
    Votes 4
  • WpPart
    Parts 2
  • WpHistory
    Time 8m
Ongoing, First published May 22, 2016
"I'm running, running, running.  It feels like I never stop.  Gravel scrapes against the bottoms of my calloused feet,  but still manages to draw blood.  My breathing is ragged, and I just run.  The bottom of his tee-shirt doesn't quite go to my knees, and I want to rip it off.  It shouldn't be so clean.  It needs to be covered in mud, and sweat, and paint stains from projects.  It's missing so much.  I hear voices calling me, yelling at me to stay, but I can't.  I'll never stop running, until the ocean meets me.  I'll never stop."

Gianna McFoy was never really understood by people.  The only one who really was close to her was her older brother, Colin.  When an accident at the local beach removes him from her family's lives, Gianna spirals downward.  Nightly runs and swims at the beach are the only thing that she feels keeps her sane in her crazy life.

Adrian Diaz fit in all too well with the crowds.  His former home of Florida was his  life, and substance.  When his parents force him to move to Montauk, NY, he hates it.  Everything about the small town repulses him.  But when he witnesses a girl run down to the beach one night, his view of the local town changes.

*Please don't copy my work, it's really special to me, and it's just plain rude.  So...  Don't.*
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[Highest Rank; #3 in Humor 3/27/17] --- I was unable to keep myself from blushing. "I'm not his girlfriend." "Yet." Ryder and Benjamin said simultaneously. "Oh, so the conceitedness runs in the family?" I asked with a roll of my eyes. "I'm afraid so. Now, tell me more about yourself." "Well, I like playing soccer a lot. And if I were to choose between my books and human beings, then I choose books. Also, I think your brother is annoying and has too big of an ego. But wanna know something?" He nodded. I stopped the car at the traffic light and turned back to him. Leaning into his ear, I whispered loud enough for Ryder to hear, "I think I like him." --- The art of breaking hearts is an inscrutable, prepossessing, abstract art. Never ever will you go through with breaking someone's heart without having your own broken. And it would be very eccentric if one did not go through the process of having their own heart shattered into millions of pieces when trying to do the same to another. Unfortunately, I learned that the hard way. --- [extended description inside] Copyright ©2016 sadreadingchick All rights reserved.