The Butterfly Project

The Butterfly Project

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Fri, Sep 23, 2016
Danielle C. Evans is a sweet girl and is loved by most just like her Father. She grew up in a house with two dad's and having no clue who her mother was. Her life was changed dramatically when her father Daniel was murdered right in front of her. While she stayed strong her Dad was a mess. Alex (the boy who lived across the street from her) has been her best friend forever. He helped her through everything. He was even there when she found out who her mother was. This is the story of how Danielle found out who her mother was, found out that she was in love, and who killed her Father. OK so this story will be kind of sporadic because I think faster than I type. Also I am in school so there really is no telling when I will be able to post chapters. I really do hope you enjoy this story.
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In the fall after her high school graduation, Danielle Davis has been spending her days lying alone in her shared New York City apartment. Attempting to fill the ticking time, she fills her moments painting empty canvases and ignoring her roommate as much as she possibly can without her actually noticing. But she can only go so long without seeing her, and at their once a month lunch date her roommate brings along a guest. Maren. Excerpt: She was paler than I first remember her, wearing clothes three times larger than her own frame, little effort put into her outfit compared to the first time I met her. She looked confused too for a second, and then she leaned down to pull her sandals off, making herself comfortable in someone else's home. Maren didn't seem like the kind of girl to spontaneously show up at someone's house, maybe I had misjudged her. "Beth's not here." My face remained blank while we made eye contact, she stood up, her natural height just a little taller than my own. Her gaze settled on me, her eyebrows were slightly furrowed. Head to toe, and back again her eyes flickered. She didn't answer my statement. "I didn't think you'd be here." "I live here." I deadpan, she's leaning against the door now, pulling her phone out of her pocket. "I know." *** This is my NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) project for this year! This is a raw, unfinished first draft of a story I've cooked up to keep me warm in the winter. Don't be surprised if there's incomplete sentences, memory problems, and forgotten moments. Writing a first draft is about getting the words on the paper and moving on. Editing will begin after I've finished the novel. Hmu writing buddies. ;)

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