The Secret Door

Prologue

Have you ever read a book that drew you in so deeply, enveloped you so thoroughly that you longed to be that main character? To experience first hand all their trials and adventures with the friends they surround themselves with? To fall so deeply in love, and be so fiercely protected by that person that you just knew that nothing and no one would ever break you apart? That you'd inevitably live happily ever after, as all stories of that nature tend to end? Well, no pun intended, but that wish has been the story of my life.

My name is Evangeline Rose Winters. Such a dramatic name, I know. According to my Mother if you ask, she'll tell you it fits the equally dramatic person it was given to. I always laugh her off, but I suppose in some ways, she's right. Even if I hate to admit it. To all of my friends though, and by all I mean two, I'm just Eve. All my life, I've dreamed of adventure. Of exploring new worlds and far off places that I knew didn't exist, despite wishing otherwise. Before I could read, I used to make my Mother tell me stories of lands like those. Of brave knights or magical warriors fighting for the love they'd sought after and won, only to, in the end, ride off into the sunset together. Forever. I would dream every night of such places. Some of pure white, snow drifted hills and mountains glimmering like diamonds under rays of beautiful sunshine. Others of lavish green, dappled light streaming through branches to reveal rays of vibrantly colored flowers unlike anything I'd ever seen. I would awake with their scent still in my nose, but never really thought anything of it. As I grew older, I started reading on my own. A new book every night. A new land, new people. Of strong, brave heroines fighting against all odds to be with the man they'd loved. And though every story ended the same, the different ways they came to that end always fascinated me. A dreamer, my Mother called me one day when I tried to capture the image of one such place from a dream I'd had by painting it on my bedroom walls. A gorgeous dark sky filled with swirls and eddies of color. Iridescent stars that sparkled like gems against the onyx sea of night, with hills of pale green below that were only visible because the sky deemed it so. I've always seemed to process things in colors or melodies, never as they actually were. To this very day, I still have dreams of that place.

Though a dreamer I may be, I still made my way through high school, doing choir after the last bell rang because Nina, my best friend since grade school, insisted we join together. Though I've always loved to sing, I never thought myself to be as melodic and soothing as the people around me said I was. My teacher had suggested I do the solo for the school choir performance, but I'd declined. I didn't have the nerve. I was more comfortable blending into the rest of the voices surrounding me. Now, I'm a college graduate, working full time as a secretary for a very successful lawfirm. It's boring. Taxing even on the worst of days, but it pays the bills and leaves enough for me to save and still have a bit of a life.

Today is a special day though. December 21st. According to the calendar, it's the day when the first frost is supposed to kiss the morning grass by freezing the dew on each blade just enough for it to crunch beneath your feet. The beginning of Winter. It's also on this day that I grow one year older than the last. I couldn't believe I was finally twenty one. My Golden Birthday. Nina was already preparing a party that she believed was still a secret, but our other friend Brian simply couldn't keep his lips sealed. It'd slipped out no more than an hour after she'd thought it up, but I'd promised I would put on my best front and act as though I was thoroughly surprised. Dramatic indeed.

Despite my paycheck giving me the ability to buy things that are newer and sleek, I seem to find beauty in all things old and classic, beginning with my car. A 1983 Lincoln Towncar with a chocolate brown exterior, only broken up by the chestnut of the leather covering the back half of the roof and the chrome lining the windows, side mirrors, grill, bumper and rims. I'd stumbled upon it by sheer accident while glancing at my Father's Sunday paper from across the table one morning, crunching audibly on a bowl of cereal.. I knew the moment I saw it that I had to have it. That was seven years ago when I'd gone wide eyed at the sight and remarked that it would be so amazing to drive something like that. Something that old had to have history behind it. Miles of sights and sounds that were it's own silent secret. I might not have been a straight A student, but I made up for my shortcomings by being a loving and devoted daughter. My parents were also never very normal either though. I'd never had a curfew because they'd always trusted me to be responsible, and so long as they knew that I wasn't out getting drunk or doing something stupid, they never really got into my business. My friends had always envied me for it, and I won't deny that I knew why.