The Legend of Misty Hollow

Prologue|| Re-written

Hazel stared out the window of the car at the foggy valleys that were befalling past. The window had specks of rain droplets running across it as the car advanced. Hazel could see her reflection in the glass as the car had been swallowed by fog. Her hazel eyes stared back at her, and her blonde hair was messy.

Hazel would begin a new life once she stepped foot in the humble town of Misty Hollow. She preceded to fixate on the landscape passing by until the car had come to a stop, facing an ancient house on top of the hill.

"Hazel, we're here!" Hazel's mother said cheerfully as she stepped out of the car. Hazel slowly opened the car door and stepped out onto the dying grass.

The house was an old Victorian house. The light purple paint had faded over the years and turned to an foul color of maud. An old willow tree was standing by the house and swayed in the soft breeze.

Hazel followed her mother up the old wooden steps and onto the porch. She continued to follow her mother inside the old house. Dust had coated almost everything visible inside the house, and the floor creaked with even the littlest of mobility.

"Hazel, dear, why don't you go get our things from the car." Her mother suggested.

She did as she was told. The fog seemed to become denser making the sky more livid than it already was. As Hazel began to carry a large suitcase up to the house, a crow unexpectedly crowed making Hazel drop the suitcase that she was carrying.

"Bloody bird," Hazel muttered under her breath. A twig snapped in the distance making Hazel glance up around her, expecting to see someone.

"Hello?" She called out uncertainly. No one answered. She shrugged it off and walked back up to the house, carrying the suitcase of which she had dropped.

Hazel looked around one last time before heading into the house. By the old willow tree, she could have sworn she saw a face hiding behind it.

The face of which she had sworn she saw looked young but stressed. It was the face of a young boy whose eyes reflected the tragedies of his past. He didn't frown when Hazel saw him, but nor did he smile. Yet, how could Hazel ever let herself that she had seen the face of a boy when she only felt like she had fallen into a dream.