Second Chance

Chapter One

Claire Broker

I smiled as I examined my new room. The floors in here definitely wasn't the original wooden board flooring, but it was far from being new boards. Perhaps the floors were from the fifties? I wasn't for certain, the walls were freshly white vertical panels aside from one wall. It appeared to be newer, with French style doors that led outside. I hadn't quite decorated yet, so the room was bare aside from my black metal bedframe and mattress. I set down my box of books, ripping the tape off of the top. I smiled as I realized that they were my new religious studies books. I hadn't landed on a single religion yet, I wanted to study them all before I decided which one stuck with me. Footsteps became apparent to my left, so I looked over to find Dakota storming in angrily. "Dude, are you okay?" I ask, but he doesn't say anything. He snatches the box from off of my bed, grabbing the books out one by one. Dakota begins throwing them around, grabbing them by the pages as he pulls them from the box. "Stop! Stop! What are you doing?" I scream at the top of my lungs, trying to pull the box away from them. David and Mom rush into the room, seeing me struggling to pull the box from my brother. They froze in place as my brother and I struggled against each other. He was throwing spell books, a Qur'an, Sutras, and so many more. When he couldn't throw anything else Dakota drops the empty box, sending me flying backwards. I land on my ass, watching in horror as he starts kicking my books. David grabs him up, Dakota kicking and trying to break out of David's grasp. I turned and ran towards the French doors behind me. Tears blinded me, I didn't know where I was going as I tried to get away. My lungs closed up, refusing to let air in or out as I tried to force them to work. I fell to my knees, blurs of green and brown surrounding me. What was? Oh my god, Holy shit. What did he? Oh my god. "Eden," someone called, a voice I didn't recognize. Who's looking for me? I tried to focus on the voice, but black spots began forming in my peripheral vision. I tried calling out for my mom and David, but I couldn't get their names out. As I hit the ground I realized something, My name isn't Eden. I couldn't make out shapes, barely making out colors as a pale hand brushed across my cheek and cupped my chin. The pale hand pulled me to look towards its owner, revealing what I assume to be black hair and... I'm not sure. Where this person's eyes should have been were ever changing, flashes of gold and green and red and blue appearing and melding together before changing to the next. He was calling my name in a panic. Eden, he gasps, but that isn't my name. This strangers voice rises in pitch slowly, his voice stretching the words more before I recognize it. He stops calling me Eden, finally using my actual name. "Claire, talk to me," David calls out, his eyes landing on an icy blue and then everything faded to black.

Slowly, I opened my eyes. Everything was too bright, all I could make out was a man hovering over me. His black hair was shaggy, and his eyes were icy blue, but they seemed to flicker different hues every few moments. His smile was full of worry, but still somehow impossibly perfect nonetheless. Eden, He sighed in relief, and somehow, I knew his name. My tongue and lips were uncooperative as I tried to say it, but I was screaming it among my thoughts, Ignis. The love that I'd felt every time I saw pictures of this house, the envelopment I felt on the porch, it was here right now. The pull, it was coming from him. Watching his features morph while the pull, that love, vanished was excruciating. My chest burned and ached, almost like being consumed by a fire that originated in my heart. The fire grew as the black upon his head faded from the luxurious vibrant jet black to the faded dry shade I knew, and his eyes stopped flickering and stayed the sharp blue. David appeared over me, and as the light dimmed to reveal my mom as well I realized none of what I had just seen had been real. "What happened?" I ask, my voice raspy and dry as I tried to separate whatever that had been from reality. "We found you passed out in the garden," David explains, his eyes full of worry. The garden, Eden, Ignis, "I need some fresh air." I sat up on the edge of the bed, I was back in my room. "Claire, you need to rest," My mom insisted, but I ignored her as I rose. "Carly, let her go. Maybe fresh air is what's best for them right now," David whispered to my mom. "What's best? They were mumbling in English and Latin," my mom whispered back, but I was already opening the door. Out I stumbled, letting my feet guide me as I tried to process all of this. Who is Eden? Who is Ignis? Why do I recognize these names? When I look up I find myself deep in the garden. Tall willow trees were surrounding the area, providing plenty of shade. There were berry bushes and rose bushes growing to form a vegetative fence almost, curtains of vines behind one sections. Out of curiosity, I inched towards the strands. With every step closer it felt more familiar, and I almost felt stupid for not recognizing it. I began to fidget with the loop around my finger, anxiously approaching the plants. Weather worn concrete steps were barely visible from under the curtain. I carefully reach out, slowly drawing back the vines to reveal mahogany doors with brass loop handles. The walls of the building reminded me of a small mausoleum you would find in an old cemetery. I saw something engraved into the archway right above the doors, but I didn't have the best view. I pushed the vines a little more to the left, revealing a name and a few dates.

Eden Clark
March 25, 1887 - February 17, 1906

I dropped the vines, stumbling backwards as a wave of shock washed over me. "Eden," a voice softly cried out, a chill running down my spine as I recognized it as the stranger's voice from earlier. I pulled myself off of the ground, dusting the dirt off of my pants as I try to process the fact the voice came from inside the mausoleum. My mouth went dry as I shakily reach towards the vines once more, moving them just enough so that I could try to open the door. The hinges stood firm, refusing to budge as I yanked. I let go of the vines, grabbing the hoop with both hands as I place one foot firmly against the other door. I made sure my other foot was placed firmly in the ground before I began tugging on it. The hinges began to whine and groan, and I let out a laugh as I gave another hard jerk. I nearly landed on my ass as I stumbled backwards, the door finally swinging open. The air that wafted out reminded me of warm summer days, fresh linens hanging out on a clothes line. The inside was well lit, and definitely not a mausoleum or any sort of crypt entrance. "Eden," the voice called out once more, coaxing me deeper inside. I followed it, the old pine boards groaning in protest with each step. There were windows along the walls, some long broken and sealed by shrubbery or vines. It allowed a nice breeze, circulating the air to avoid it getting stale. The walls matched the exterior, not that I was really surprised given the dates carved into the entryway. In the middle of the room was a long mahogany table and matching bench seats. It wasn't very big, it could fit maybe four people all together. Directly behind it was a writing desk, stacks of yellowed paper sitting in various piles all across it. To the left of the table was a sewing station. It was an antique cherry colored wooden table with a black sewing machine attached to the center of the table. In this bubble letter style colored in gold was the word 'SINGER' on the arm of the machine. Gold leaf designs decorated the entirety of the machine. Half of the sewing table was folded down, with two small drawers on either side. I stepped closer towards the sewing machine, reaching for the drawer on the left. The wood drug as I pulled it open, revealing spools of thread, scissors, and other sewing supplies. I closed the drawer, moving towards the right drawer. This one glided with much more ease, revealing a small brass key. I fished it out of the drawer, examining it as I try to figure out what it might go to. I stashed it in my pocket, making a mental note to figure it out later. I fixate on the writing desk, noticing that the wood was also antique cherry. There was a small cabinet on the left side of the desk, and a shelf was sitting right above it. As I got closer I realized that the chair was knocked over. The chair frame matched the desk, while the cloth cushion was a faded red color. Something gold was peaking out from underneath the top of the writing top. I kneel down, realizing it was a key hole. I fished the key out of my pocket, sliding it into the hole. As I attempted to turn it I realized that it didn't do anything. This key didn't go to the desk. I put it away for now, standing back up. To my right was a fallen bookcase. Books were scattered all over the floor, the pages yellowed with age and some seemed to be singed. The sight formed a lump in my throat, like I lost something dear to me. I swallowed hard, tearing my eyes away. I focused back on the desk, finally taking in the sheer volume of the letters. I scanned over the piles, seeing two different styles of handwriting. These letters were written by two different people. I take a deep breath, reaching a shaky hand out. I picked up the first letter, and the air was slammed out of me, My vision swirled, a white haze forming over everything before going completely white.