Miranda the Story Teller (part 1) (standard:Fan Fiction, 1151 words)
Author: Freya Griffin	Added: Oct 07 2002	Views/Reads: 3760/2308	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
not exactly a fanfic, but it does have some borrowed characters. You'll have to read it for yourself to know.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

'I'm going home now. Want to stop by for some tea, Ian?' 

'That's so sweet of you darling. But you know i don't drink.
Nevertheless, i shall join you for a housewarming party' 

Ian had always been a teaser. He has an unexplainable hatred to
normality. His sarcasm had been familiar since the first time Miranda 
knew him. But that was a long time ago. Now, she isn't herself anymore. 
But she bear his company. Because she knows his the only one who can 
understand her completely. 

Ian made long and careful inspections to every details of the flat. 

'This is not you. Who made up this stinking place?', he complained,
waving a pastel colored ceramic figurine of a ballerina. 

'Some interior designer the lawyer hired', Miranda answered from the
ktchen. 

'Oh, such a delight to fill this room with junks like these', he
mockered. 'Is he new? You should fire him and get a new one. The one 
whom you can trust upon your life...and taste. And you should fire that 
interior designer whatever, he or she made this room looks like a 
generic cellpad' 

'Stop complaining, this is my place and i shall do whatever i like' 

'You mean you actually like this? It has no class whatsoever' 

She frowned and took a look around the place. It was too light and
pastel. No character. 

'Whatever happened to your old things? I like them better' 

'I told the lawyer to sell it' 

'Are you insane? Those are originals!' 

'I know, they made a huge fortune in the auction' 

'Whatever you need the money for?' 

'For the bookstore. It needs some new space and interiors', she sipped
her tea and smiled. 

'You've got all tne fortunes in the world. And if you're desperately
need the cash, why didn't you tell me? I'll call my England lawyer so 
they could set up something for you', he sounded so disappointed and 
hurted. 

'I didn't have the time. I was dying and you were away in Asia or
something' 

"Good gracious Lord!', he scurried off to her room and inspecting her
closets. 

'You won't find anything fancy there' 

'I suppose you let your lawyer to pick all of these up for you?', he
shouted from her room. 

'No, i pick them out of the catalogue. They looked so nice and trendy' 

'Oh my god, you are growing old', Ian came out of the room looking
frightened. He sat next to Miranda and observed her face. 'My darling, 
you've lost your mind in an over sun exposured. You even got a wrinkle 
there' 

'This is the new millenia, Ian. Where have you been? We have to grow. A
wrinkle you say? Where?', she chuckled and lifted the silver teaspoon 
to try finding the wrinkle. 

But she won't find any, and she will never find one. Miranda Martin
won't age. She was one of the blessed ones. One of the immortals. 


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