The long road ahead

A new beginning

The story will be totally in first person point of view, and flashbacks will be in single quotes and italics/dreams will be only in italics.

I woke up and found myself in an unknown place. What was it? No birds chirped, no winds blew through the dense garden of trees. I heard a rustle behind me, and looked back quickly. He stood there, with an emotionless expression, as I dashed towards him, as fast as my legs could carry me. "Wait!" I shouted in desperation, but all I saw was him shaking his head, as he disappeared.
The darkness closed in, and I felt as if I was suffocating. The misery was fueled by the burning rage, the devastating sorrow, and lost hope that was tearing me apart.
I collapsed, unable to move, and all was in darkness.

I awoke drenched in sweat, as I slowly understood it was a dream. This dream had been haunting me for weeks, and I was unable to do anything about it.
I simply could not understand why I had been dreaming the same thing for weeks... but, there was nothing she do.
My parents were not very well off, my father burdened by debts. After losing his job, he had been unemployed for almost three years, and our coffers were depleting rapidly. Our house was mortgaged, and we had already decided that we would move into our mother's ancient family home.
I dressed simply, before I headed downstairs, in a plain jeans and t-shirt. I packed my books, clothes, diary, and the money I earned from constantly working part time as a waitress, and full time in summer break. The amount was substantial, and would last me for a while.
I went to our dining room, where my mother was serving breakfast. "Good morning, Serephe."
"Morning, Mom.... Dad..."
I looked at my father with sorrow and slight rage. He was the cause, that I was having to leave my old house, my old school, whatever was important to me.
He had to lose his job when the company was taken over, he was unable to find a new one... and he never even tried!
I looked gloomily at the toast and tea in front of me, and began eating.
"We will have to leave by four, honey," Mom smiled comfortingly. "Have you packed?"
"Yes, mom." I replied shortly.
"I hope you will settle in soon, honey. The place is old and run-down, but it should be ok with a bit of renovation. The Internet should be fine...." Her voice trailed off softly.
"It doesn't matter if Internet is there or not.... Kate, you spoil your kid." My delinquent father snapped.
"It's your damn fault!" I shrieked. "You had to lose your job! Because of you I lost my friends, had to give up my work.... everything! I hate you!"
I knew my life was slowly crumbling down, I was helpless.... there was nothing left for me.
We arrived at the new house in a few hours, the truck following our old car. I was pleasantly surprised. The house was old, with vines climbing over the alcoves, the gate was made of slightly rusted iron. The house was not enormous, but it was large, and the interior was in surprisingly good condition. My mother showed me to my room. It was pretty, with fresh white paint, a desk and chair, an old sofa, and a comfortable bed. It also had a fair sized wardrobe.
However, I did not like the atmosphere in the room. I did not know what was wrong with it, but it seemed full of sorrow. Even the rustle of the trees, the chirping of the birds, the rippling brook that was a little far from the house--- seemed to cry out in an indescribable melody of pain. I did not comprehend what was wrong with me, as I stared out of the window. "What's going on....?" I asked myself fervently. The place was also isolated, there were no neighbors anywhere around. There was no information in real estate about the previous background of the house. No information whatsoever.
That's when I opened my drawer to bring out my headphones, and I saw something unusual.
It was an ancient book, with a crumbling cover, and moth eaten pages. 'Strange,' I thought. 'How come I didn't notice it before?'
I touched the cover, and a breath of dust caused me to sneeze. I turned to the first page... odd, it was a diary. Certainly a decade old, the handwriting was a spidery calligraphy from the 1800s. I started to read the first page...

September 1796
I remember coming home after the rains. What had kept me farther away? Her scent I discerned, a whiff of floral, with an undertone of frankincense. Alas, what pain, that once I knew, was bound into letting go anon. Was my heart not broken? Aye, but there was nought to consider, whatsoever had been was past.
She dwells yet in my memory, her soft brown eyes in mine, her dark hair swaying with the genial wind.
The quiet sound of teapots on the table, as I drank of her beverage, and her skillful fingers gently touching the keys. I remember yet what sound that unbeknownst had touched my heart. Softly as she played, my world was filled with color, a palette of mystic sounds, the color of the sky. The rainbow after the gloom of the waters from the heavens, and the gratitude of my soul that lingered to touch her cheek. She was a flower in the bower of loneliness, my one candle glowing in the dark.
Alas, to have lost her I loved best, lost the flame that warmed my heart, the moon of my isolated nights.
Must I go on living with my soul in the grave?
                            ×-×-×

I read the first page once more, it was filled with a poetic yet inconsolable sorrow akin to the romantic poets.
I kept it back, deep in thought as I had my dinner, and went to bed that night.
How unaware was I of the secrets I would unravel in this old bungalow, the mysteries that would haunt me forever.
I felt it was a new beginning, a new story... but how unaware was I, of the story within a story. Of the labyrinthine past that would return to influence my present.
Tomorrow would be a new day, and I slept lulled by the sound of the winds, as I felt being observed lovingly by a figure of my past.