Choose Your Own Adventure Returns

Hello. Its been about 3.5 years. Many things have happened. In an effort to keep my brain in tip top shape and out of sheer nostalgia, I am opening this blog again. And my inaugural re-post will be a "Choose Your Own Adventure Story." Perhaps you have heard of this. Perhaps you have not.
I begin the story with a character and a setting. I provide 3 options for plot development. You, the reader, vote on what should happen next. We ride the story wave together. Brilliant fun. If more people than my mother and my husband participate, we are less likely to stall out at a tie. You understand.

Would you join me? I promise to engage every iota of my minds creative ramblings. I will not guarantee a happy ending. There absolutely will be a character named Cordelia Jones.

Chapter 1

One feeble star blinked on the horizon. A day was ending. In the dizzy heat of late summer, no one noticed the extra motion of the skyline - the stealthy accumulation of clouds, the fading of the light. The solitary star weakened and was shut out. It didn't mind.

Frances was the first to notice the smell of the storm. She turned when a gust of wind twisted her skirt, surprised. She squinted as the sky darkened too quickly. Could she bike home in time? Could she beat the storm? She had 5 miles to cover between town and her family farm. Frances was glad she had not let her little sister tag along to her piano lesson. Frances regretted stealing and eating two pieces of cake. It would slow her down. She had moments to decide. Ahead of her, the plains lay flat and stretched out and unconcerned, checkered by dirt roads and lazy fences. Behind her rose the small town with its promise of doors and cellars, its one stop sign beginning to shimmy in the wind. Frances

a) chose the road and began to pedal, her legs spinning like the air that built up on the dust behind her.

b) knew she was too small in the world. She turned her bike and headed toward the general store.

c) cringed at the thought of consequences looming, and propelled her bike toward a solitary cabin,  white  clapboard in the blackest maw of the clouds. 

(leave your vote in the comments below if you dare)