In an alleyway in the middle of the city stood a girl who at first glance looked like any other moody teenage girl, with her short black hair, choppy magenta bangs, short leather jacket, navy blue skinny jeans and black fingerless gloves. She looked like one, but that didn't mean she was. She was a teenager, but she wasn't average. She carried a big secret in the worn black book bag that hung from her shoulder.
The girl squatted down and touched the ground with her finger tips, she closed her eyes and tiled her head upwards, towards the moonlit sky. Suddenly, she stood up and looked around. She ducked out of the alleyway and walked briskly along with the many people one the sidewalk.
She walked straightforward for 3 blocks and then took a left onto 32nd St. Where she disappeared into a crowd of high schoolers heading home from the school dance that night. She emerged on the other side of the mess of kids and headed towards Bakers Ave.
She stopped to catch her breath just outside the Starbucks on Jameson Rd. but her rest was cut short by a buzzing sound coming from behind her. She took off running until she reached the old Greenwood Manor. She hurried up the steps of the abandoned mansion and pushed open the door. The lock had been broken for years, the girl knew that, she came here often.
Once she was inside the house she headed for the back hallway which held the door to the basement. The floor boards creeped and groaned and she stepped on them. At the end of the hallway stood the only door she had never opened, it was rusted shut and she had never a need to till now. Mustering up all her strength, she lifted her leg and kicked the door in. As it fell she was showered with dust and small bits of wood. She stood there coughing for a second before descending down the basement stairs into darkness.
She grabbed her cellphone and turned it on, using it as a flashlight. She made her way down the stairs slowly holding onto the railing for most of the way, only stopping when she was halfway down. She stood perfectly still and listened to the old house. She could hear the groan of the very plank of wood that held her weight, and the wind blowing through the shudders, bust mostly she could here the buzzing.
She threw caution to the wind as she asked down the remaining steps. Once she hit the basement floor she ran to the dusty book case and opened her book bag. She reached her hand inside and carefully pulled out the history book inside. She looked behind her, back to the stairs, she saw a light coming from the doorway.
Her heart beat fast as she flipped through the pages of the book, until finally she found the right one. Taking a deep breath she pressed her finger onto the old crinkly pages of the book. She murmured the words that she knew all to well and waited for the light to surround her. She began to glow as they cam down stairs but she knew they still couldn't see her, they were facing away. She had only seconds left. She shoved her book into the book case and disappeared just as they turned around.
YOU ARE READING
History Is Not Set In Stone
RandomWe may never know about our future before it happens. We may never know what it will say about us in the history books. We may never know, but that doesn't mean we can't imagine. History Is Not Set In Stone is a story told through a series of journa...