Alex's hands trembled as he held the diary, the scent of aged paper and ink filling his senses. He could feel the weight of the years that had passed since these words were written. The diary opened a portal to another time, and he couldn't wait to step through it. He settled into a chair, took a deep breath, and began to read.
---
**September 14, 1970**
It all started when I first went to study at the College of Charleston. My name is Adrian. I recently began my studies here, and though I've always been an introvert, I found the prospect of college both thrilling and daunting. I've never been one to seek out friendships, preferring the solace of my own company, and I intended to maintain a low profile.
The first day was overwhelming. The campus was sprawling, filled with students hurrying to their classes, and the air was thick with excitement and anxiety. Freshmen gathered nervously in groups, clutching their schedules and trying to navigate the unfamiliar territory.
There was a mandatory assembly for all new students, a tradition they said. It was meant to welcome us and help us feel at ease. The auditorium was packed, and the buzz of conversations created a symphony of nervous energy. I found a seat at the back, hoping to blend into the background.
The gathering started with a speech from the dean, followed by various faculty members who took turns sharing their expectations and offering advice. It was all very formal and impersonal until a student was invited to speak.
His name was Ethan. Ethan Blackwood. He walked to the podium with an air of confidence and ease that immediately captivated the room. He began speaking about his own experiences at the college, and there was something about his voice, his demeanor, that made everyone feel at ease. He had a way of making the large, intimidating auditorium feel like a small, intimate room.
Ethan talked about the challenges he faced when he first arrived, the friends he made, and the adventures he had. He spoke about the importance of stepping out of one's comfort zone and embracing the opportunities that college life offered. His words were not just meant to reassure us; they carried a warmth and sincerity that resonated deeply.
I remember thinking that not only his personality but also his name felt very warm. Ethan Blackwood. There was something about it that made you want to know him, to be around him. He had a natural charisma that drew people in, and as I listened to him, I felt an unfamiliar yearning to be a part of that world.
---
**October 3, 1970**
A few weeks into the semester, I still hadn't made any friends. It wasn't that people were unfriendly; on the contrary, many of my classmates were quite sociable. But I found it difficult to engage, to open up and let them in. I often found myself watching from the sidelines, observing rather than participating.
Ethan, on the other hand, was everywhere. He was involved in various student organizations, and his name seemed to come up in every conversation. People spoke of him with admiration and respect. He had a way of making everyone feel important, of remembering small details about their lives that made them feel seen.
One afternoon, I was sitting under a large oak tree in the courtyard, reading a book. It was one of those rare moments when the campus was quiet; most students were either in class or off-campus. I was engrossed in my reading when a shadow fell over the page. I looked up to see Ethan standing there, a friendly smile on his face.
We didn't speak; he was just passing by, but the brief encounter left a lasting impression. His presence had a way of making the world seem brighter, and I found myself looking forward to those fleeting moments when our paths would cross.
---
**November 14, 1970**
Our paths continued to cross, though we never spoke. I admired Ethan from afar, watching as he moved through the campus with an effortless grace. He had a way of making everyone around him feel special, and I envied his ability to connect with people so easily.
Ethan lived just two streets away from me, and sometimes I would see him walking home, surrounded by friends. He was always at the center of attention, his laughter echoing down the street. I kept my distance, content to admire him from the shadows.
There was something magnetic about Ethan. He was effortlessly charming, and his laughter was infectious. But more than that, he had a depth to him, a kindness that went beyond surface interactions. He cared about people in a way that was rare, and I found myself deeply drawn to him.
---
**December 20, 1970**
Winter break was approaching, and the campus was buzzing with excitement. Students were packing up to go home, and the atmosphere was festive. I had no plans to go home, preferring the quiet solitude of my apartment to the chaotic family gatherings that awaited others.
I spent the last evening before the break in my room, writing in this diary. The room was small and sparsely furnished, but it was my sanctuary. I had decorated it with a few personal touches, including a string of Christmas lights that cast a warm, inviting glow.
I often thought about Ethan during these quiet moments. I wondered what it would be like to be his friend, to share my thoughts and experiences with him. But I knew that was a fantasy, a dream that would never come true. I was content to admire him from a distance, to let his light brighten my world from afar.
---
**January 10, 1971**
The new semester began, and the campus came alive once more. I resumed my routine, attending classes and spending my free time in the library or my favorite café. Ethan was as vibrant as ever, and our paths continued to cross in those brief, magical moments.
One afternoon, I was sitting in the courtyard again, lost in thought. Ethan was nearby, laughing with his friends. I watched him, my heart aching with a longing I couldn't fully understand. Suddenly, someone put a hand on my shoulder, pulling me out of my reverie.
"Adrian," a familiar voice said. I turned to see my neighbor, Michael, smiling at me. He was a kind, gentle soul who lived in the apartment next to mine.
"Who are you looking at?" Michael asked, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.
"No one," I replied quickly, feeling my cheeks flush. Michael chuckled and sat down beside me, his presence comforting.
"You've been staring off into space a lot lately," he said. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, just lost in thought," I said, trying to sound casual. But my eyes drifted back to Ethan, who was still laughing with his friends. Michael followed my gaze and gave me a knowing look.
"He's quite something, isn't he?" Michael said softly.
I didn't reply, but the look in my eyes must have said it all. Michael patted my shoulder and stood up, giving me a reassuring smile before walking away.
------
Alex closed the diary, his heart pounding. The entries had transported him into Adrian's world, giving him a glimpse into a deep and unspoken admiration. But it was more than that. There was a connection between Adrian and Ethan that resonated deeply with Alex's own feelings.
He looked around the study, the weight of the diary still in his hands. He felt a strange sense of déjà vu, as if he had lived these moments himself. The room was filled with an eerie silence, the portraits of Ethan staring back at him.
Alex knew he had to uncover more about this connection, about Adrian and Ethan's past. He needed to understand why he felt such a strong bond with Ethan, and what it all meant for their present and future.
He took a deep breath and turned the page, eager to dive deeper into the diary's secrets.
YOU ARE READING
Abandoned Tracks
ParanormalSeeking solace from the chaos of city life, Alex moves to a remote village and discovers an old, abandoned train hidden within a mysterious cave. As he explores the eerie site, he encounters a lost soul named Ethan, whose life was cut short under en...
