The Finale Letter

Chapter 1

Thank you for reading!

Where is it? I wondered.

Currently at exactly 3:34 PM on a foggy day, I was looking through the College Library searching for a certain book.

Shakespeare was the assignment my grouchy Professor gave me. Something about Poets war, who even cares. But since its 2 third of my grade id rather get a good grade.

The Collage Library was an old smelly place with ancient ass books and book shelves. Everything was dusty, the floors, shelves but it had character which i loved. It was also the place my parents met. Well i think so.

I guess you could say i kept a "shield" up, or whatever teens say these days. My eyes cold, unreadable and face straight.

Maybe the lack of a loving father came through or not enough love but you know what? Fuck love, Fuck everything.

My entire miserable teen adult life i put two middle fingers in the air and screamed "Fuck you" to anything that seemed impossible.

Two quotes my mother used to say was "Everything is possible" and "If you don't do a job properly then don't do it". Those words were always stuck in my mind.

The old women who works behind the desk comes upto me smiling ever so wide breaking my thoughts.

"Darling do you need some help?" Her voice is old and crackly but it's kind of soothing, like I've heard it before. Anyway I look at her surprisingly with a very tiny smile.

"Um yeah I need a Shakespeare book, something about war ?"

"Oh yes, yes I know where that is, come on dear"

She starts walking, and by walking I mean taking her time to put one foot in front of the other which by frank is fricken annoying. I patiently wait and walk with her until we get to a certain aisle.

Daisy- the old lady- smiles at me pointing to the shelve and I say a polite thank you walking upto the shelve looking at the book number 1297 inspecting it.

I look at the thick spine of the book, dusting away what dirt was on it. It had a black leather cover with a picture of a solider with a sniper, the edges and corners frayed. My green/blue eyes looking at the book intensely as if i could see right through it.

I don't know why i do that, i just observe things without even knowing i do it. Someone even said my most intense stare could scare a grown man away. I call bull though, i just don't have time for peoples stupidness.

I look at the thick spine and see the title in cursive writing.

Shakespeare and the poets war dated in 1297.

I clutch the black leather book in my hand and check my watch to see its been 10 minutes since i tried to find the book. I walked towards the tables where my apple laptop is set up alone, my old gold bracelet jingling.

I don't know exactly where i got the bracelet but i know when i was in foster care, that's the only personal thing i've ever worn besides clothes that i grew out of. The bracelet has multiple charms like a heart, a solider with a gun, a pallet for paint, an owl, an elephant, a purse etc. Of course all gold.

I sit down in front of my laptop and log onto my email account that my mum created for me when i was like 12, yeah i know lame right? Your probably saying why didn't you create a new one blah blah.

Well the answer to that. I don't know, its something my mother had done for me so i wanted to keep that memory.

Anyway i log in and check to see if any new emails have been sent until i see the number one on the "junk mail" part.

I click onto the junk mail and narrow my eyes. There seemed to be a letter with my name on it but sent around 2008 June. The time my mother died. I click on the email only to see sentences and numbers.

I knit my eyebrows together in confusion and my eyes narrow even more. I read the email.

"For the one you've loved,

For now you will find,

Use these as a guide

To find the mystery upside

1297

1155

1248

1579

1912

1585

1248"

What the actual heck. Is this some stupid game? Who the hell would send me this ? I don't even have friends for petes sake.

I look up from the screen looking around the library to see a couple of people here-all students, i look passed the surrounding collage students to the old women behind the counter to the weird person in front of me.

Was i looking that hard?

"Hi" He said

I looked at him, he had dirty blonde hair like mine, blue eyes that are darkish. He seemed to have a boyish rich boy type of vibe but who am i to judge, he was wearing a grey shirt and black pants. He has a scar on the right side of his eyebrow and a few freckles on his nose spraying onto his cheeks.

He look almost familiar but yanno its me so i don't have any friends.

I looked at him and scowled looking back at my laptop ignoring him,

"No reply ?" He once again interrupts me.

I look up and give a quick fake smile looking at him intently.

"I'm trying to work, it's called a library for a reason"

His smile brightens, there's something about him, he looks so familiar but I can't put my finger to it.

"I'm Noah" he brings his hand over the table as if to shake it with mine.

I look at his hand and ignore it.

"Ava" I simply say and get back to looking at the email.

I see from the Corner of my eye that Noah puts his hand with the slight disappointment in his eye. He seems to be really chirpy and smiling all the time, the total opposite of me.

Noah suddenly breaks my train of thought "I couldn't help but notice that you look confused"

What ? Does this guy ever shut up?

"Not any of your business" I mumble still looking at the screen.

"What ?"

"Nothing" I'm to tired to reply to this kid.

Noah suddenly gets up from his chair and moves to the chair right next to me. Great.

"Do you need something?" I say as I roll my eyes.

"No but this riddle seems to be interesting" he grabs my laptop going through the riddle.

"Hey!, give me my laptop" I try to get it back but he moves the laptop away.

"You do know these numbers are book numbers right ?" He randomly says

"What ?"

He looks at me and then looks at the screen pointing to the first number and then pointing to my book. I make the connection immediately.

"Woah, what could that mean ?" I ask curiously.

He smiles at my curiousness and shrugs.

"It could mean anything, is there anything specific about this book that could be so important?"

Suddenly I remember that this book I held in my hands that I needed for my essay was one of the books my mum read to me as a kid. She used to love Shakespeare more than anything.

What the hell could this mean ?

Thank you for reading xx