This place felt, in Stacey Miller’s words, like ‘watching paint dry.’
It was sad enough that she was born here. Everything seemed like it was written down like in a book. A bore, she called it. To her, living here was just pure torture. She had enough of the place.
Holly field was a beautiful place. It was the usual look of a town with a mix of forestry and homely buildings. All the houses looked the same. Cozy and average with the picket fences and gates. Some with manicured lawns and gardens. They all looked the same. The town had a simple look to it. It was the only place she had ever known.
Unfortunately.
Being the kind of person she was, which was an isolated and self-absorbed personality, she wanted nothing but to know more about the world outside her town.
Where else would she go? Why would she go? Could she even go?
Of course not.
She was a sixteen-year-old brunette, who lived with her quite odd parents. A sixteen-year-old girl with short brown hair and dark eyes and no siblings who just lived like everything that was going to happen, happened.
Of average height, modest stature and with no care for any of that, Stacey kept modest time away for herself. With her olive skin, moody and cool attitude, ‘house with no neighbors’ kind of home and ‘dress me, I don’t care’ kind of wardrobe, Stacey barely had any close friends. Friends she had, but nothing more. Always cool, calm and collected, Stacey had a dark cloud over her thoughts concerning where she lived. She did not hate it. She just didn’t know...