Into The Rose Garden Fanfiction

Chapter 1

When I opened my eyes, I remembered seeing an unfamiliar ceiling.

My room's ceiling was completely white with a fan attached to the middle. This one here wasn't white and certainly did not have any ceiling fan.

From where I laid, all I could see was a thin, almost transparent, glittery drape, hanging on wooden frames.
A curtain? No, it might be a mosquito net?
I hadn't used those in ages.

The room was still dark and I could make out the faint outline of the moon outside the open windows.

Thinking I was just dreaming, I closed my eyes again. But the wind felt way too real, and the light fluttering of the nearby veil, which I didn't even know could make a sound, sounded way too close to my ears.

There was no way this could be a dream.

I opened my eyes again.

The scenery still hadn't changed at all.

I got up, slowly, groping my way on the bed.
I was looking for my phone, but it wasn't there.

Shit.

Where did my phone go?

The dark room was faintly illuminated with the moon's glow outside.

It was a beautiful room, a room whose occupant must have been very rich.

This was a place under no circumstances a college student would have been able to afford.

One side of the room was covered with huge bookshelves. Those shelves must have contained a thousand books. The other side had an intricate wooden desk, with a small notebook and a feather...an ink pen...? A feather was dipped in a small pot.

A nearby grandfather clock showed that the time was 0100 hours.

I checked the desk, there was no sign of my phone.

Now I was getting worried. I literally couldn't survive without my phone. And I had no idea of where I was.

Have I been trafficked somehow? Or was it a kidnapping?

But then why would they keep me in such a room?

In my confusion my hand went up to my scalp. It was a habit of mine, trying to pull my hair whenever I felt frustrated.

And that was when my whole body went cold.

This hand...it wasn't mine?

I certainly wasn't born fair nor had I such delicate fingers. The ring placed upon the fingers wasn't mine. I never wore such jewelry.

As if on cue, my head turned sideways where on a full body mirror, I saw myself.

The woman in the mirror who stared at me looked at me, calmly, as if waiting for something.

She had waist length black hair hair with very fair skin. She almost looked like she could be the European actors I watched on television.

It was difficult to describe her face.

She had a sharp jawline with small lips. And eyebrows were even, something which I could have never achieved.

If she could cut her hair she would certainly rock the butch lesbian hairstyle.

The frozen hand which was still clinging onto a lock of the dark hair, looked delicate but still had some blisters.

I had long realized that that woman was me.

But for God's sake, how the f*ck is that possible?

I had only read stories of these. Stories of fantasies. Stories where second chances were given. Tales of reincarnations.