Who: Angelina & George What: Angelina had a bad memory! Where: Bungalow 11 When: After her post, backdated a day! Status: In progress
The storm had come and gone by now. Although Angelina wasn't about to venture outside, she had enjoyed watching it. There was something peaceful and majestic about thunder and lightning. Even as a child, she'd run to the windows while many of her friends had dove under beds or blankets. The chaos of a thunder shower excited Angelina, and she had spent most of this one perched by the window. She watched as trees came down, and caught her breath when she swore her roof was about to fly right off. But Ange enjoyed the fear and the adrenaline cursing through her body. She needed a bit of excitement and fun right now anyways.
When the storm subsided, Angelina had gone outside. The air smelt of rain, and the sand felt strange under her bare feet. It was enjoyable though, and Angelina had enjoyed being alone. It was once she got home that things started to take a turn for the worse. She decided to wait a day or two to clean up the scraps of tree and garbage that made its way around her bungalow. For all she knew, it would rain again throughout the night. When Angelina returned to her makeshift home, she sat on the couch. It was growing darker, but Ange wasn't yet tired. It was then something came to her. Something so vivid and so clear, she knew it wasn't a dream.
It had taken her a bit to figure out, but she'd seen herself, George, and two children who could only be Fred and Roxanne. Fred seemed upset, but it wasn't until Ange had seen her daughter she knew why. Roxanne was laying on a bed, deathly pale and hardly able to move. Ange had heard creaking of her voice, and Angelina had sworn the child was dying. Her child.