The Real Story of Cincinnati Chili, Part 1

Before I begin with this mess, I'd better make a disclaimer.  This story is in no way supposed to be good writing.  It was, in fact, a ridiculous game some friends and I started a few years ago to amuse ourselves...a chain story.  That was before I began the ridiculous game of blogging, obviously.  I began the story, left off at a crucial moment and emailed it to a friend to continue.  She continued and emailed back to me or some other victim, uh I mean, friend until it was all done.  All in all, there were four of us who contributed, some of whom (names have been eliminated to protect the guilty parties) are readers of this blog.  As you read along, keep in mind that our whole purpose was to amuse ourselves and shock the next recipient with the next installment.  Please don't critique too harshly!!!  

The slight breeze was almost musical as it fingered its way through the leaves of the trees. 

The setting sun looked like a soggy vanilla wafer in  a  sea  of pumpkin pie filling.  

Hannistina gracefully shielded her face from her whipping, but immaculate hair.  Her thoughtsimmediately flew to the last time she had seen him.  A wave of nostalgia swamped her, as wellas acraving for chocolate.  It was three long weeks ago that the course of her life had  

changed  forever. 

While the urge to reminisce was strong, the desire for chocolate won out.  Hannistina enteredthe back door of her cottage.  The smells of home wrapped their arms around her and welcomed her into her kitchen.  After filling the teapot and setting it on the stove to boil, she hungher wraps over the back of the kitchen chairs.  She peeked in the oven door to check the 

baking apple crisp, and then went to the pantry to retrieve her own special cocoa 

blend.

Before she could prepare her "relaxation in a  cup", the phone rang.  It was him.

To be continued...