Prologue + Authors Note

(authors note: hey guys, welcome to Osiria Rose! This is my first time really writing a story so excuse my improper grammar/language. Always accepting feedback so feel free to make suggestions! Oh and, this novel is written to someday become a comic, however I am awful at drawing so if you are interested or know anyone who is interested in doing a collab as an artist to turn Osiria Rose into a comic, please email me: kaylayh05@gmail.com One last note, remember that the story is told by 24 year old Delilah as a flashback, but later skips to the story of her present self. I'll be noting the chapters that are flashbacks so don't worry! Due to this way the story is told, it'll be very long. Expect updates 1-3 times a week though so it won't be too excruciating😂Alright, enough of me, go enjoy the novel!)

Prologue:

Why do some paths cross only to part? I’ve walked along this path for 24 years now, through all the hills, the dips, and the sudden sharp turns. I now walk along the cobblestone road of the city park, the sweet smell of fresh cakes from the nearby bakery reminds me of an earlier time on my path. The memories come to me in a soft jaded yellow hue. I can almost feel the bright sun, beads of sweat, the sharp wind whistling past our ears, racing as fast as our legs could carry us, and the sound of sneakers slapping against cobblestone. The sound comes to a sudden halt as we stand outside the bakery entrance, licking our chapped lips. Laughs of friends, some yelling “You were last! You have to pay for the cakes!”as a schoolgirl with bright red shoulder length hair arrives, out of breath. I turn around, feeling at peace surrounded with those figures of my youth, until I see his face. The face of the boy next to me would always instantly increase my heart rate tenfold. Everything about him embodies perfection. His perfectly messy hair and deep mesmerizing eyes. As always, it took my breath away as he flashed that grin that I knew all too well. I could see him mouthing something, it seemed as if he was saying

"L-”

"Li-”

"Lily!” a voice screamed, but it wasn’t his. I suddenly shook out of my reminiscing daze as I turned around. In the cold evening November breeze, I saw her, the girl with bright red hair, now faded into a light auburn, and grown to her waist. “What the hell are you doing standing in the middle of the path? It’s freezing!” And it once again hit me, it was just a memory, I’m way farther down my path now. I can’t go back there, back to him. But he’s on my mind so often, that I often think he’s still here, with me. It takes me back to that one part of my path. It all began the first year of high school, 10 years ago.

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