A Work of Fiction

Chapter One

Updated and Edited 16/06/12 - I thought I should update and edit this story due to the new cover. It is still the same story, just a few changed words here and there to make it read better.

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Chapter One

I began walking to my spot under the bleachers, where I spent most of the free period. It was secluded, hidden away from other people and most importantly, it was quiet. I used to read in the library, which was until I felt like I was being stalked. Well, perhaps not quite so sinister. Some of the guys had apparently noticed a change in me over the summer and were intrigued. So, they would hang around and hope I would agree to a date when they would ask me. Of course, me being the shy, reclusive girl I was, always declined their offers, saying I was busy or had plans. I didn't know how long these excuses would hold firm, so I tried to avoid any interaction with them.

That was when I discovered this little haven. Not long after school had started, I began spending my free time here, whiling away the hours with a good book. I liked nothing better than to read. Influenced at a young age, I would read for hours, even forcing my mother to take my book away on occasion, just so that I could finally go to sleep.

As I gathered myself into a comfortable position, with my back leaning against the wall, I rifled through my school bag to find my new friend for the week. Just as I was beginning to open my book, something caught my eye. I looked left, towards the extra bag of basketballs, which the coach had hidden there earlier in the season, and saw something that clearly shouldn't be there. I gasped, also realising that this meant that someone had recently been here.

Sitting there was a book. I moved towards it, cautiously picking it up, as though it was the most valuable treasure in the world. I looked down at the cover. It was a plain hardback. One of those really old, well read copies. I ran her fingers gently over the embossed title on the spine of the book.

'Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen'.

As well read as I was, I never picked up a Jane Austen book. It was now I wondered why. I had always wanted to, but I suppose I was always lured away by some adventure story. Currently, I was reading Moby Dick by Herman Melville. I loved stories about the sea and had a special fondness for pirates. I remembered when I was about ten, I had wanted to run away and become a pirate, live a life on the seven seas, hoarding treasure and drinking copious amounts of rum. Looking back at the book in my hands, I opened it, only to have a small piece of folded paper fall into my lap. I unfolded the note slowly and read what was written.

“Dear Viola, read this book, I'm sure you'll enjoy it. Give Melville a rest; I'm sure even you've had enough adventure. Once you've finished reading it, leave it where you found it.” - A WORK OF FICTION.

Whoever they were, they signed the note as 'a work of fiction'. Then it suddenly occurred to me. How did they know my name? And how did they know I came here?

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“I've got a bit of homework to do before bed, so night everyone.” I got up and kissed my little brother, Toby on the head, while my parents smiled at me.