Wiosna

Prologue - Part 3: Begin

        I cast my gaze upon the book once more. I realize then that the cover reminds me of my hospital room—sterile. It gives off close to no life, though you can tell it has a purpose. After stalling for so long by just thinking about the book, I add it to the small stack of books on my night stand and decide to read it later; possibly right before I go to bed. I disregard what I thought to be the perfect time to read such a novel due to the fact it's now 5:00PM. I dozed off and lost track of time from earlier, so the atmosphere has changed.

        Just earlier, while I was at the book store, that had been the second time I'd been there since my mom took me after my release from the hospital. It's usually run by an old man with glasses who has balding, gray hair. I saw him on my first visit with my mother. Though this time, I saw the black-haired clerk there instead. At the time, I hadn't thought to ask him about the older gentleman there, since I had been caught up in the demeanor Wiosna gives off.

        I think about it for a little more, and finally come to two conclusions: I've zoned off for too long, and that I should ask my father about the book. Maybe he'd know something about it, since he is a novelist. I grab the book off my night stand and head towards the living room, where he usually sits when he isn't doing other things. For him, since I'm quiet, it's a good place for him to think and come up ideas for writing. When I enter the living room, I see him typing away in an almost angry manner. It contrasts a lot with his usual calm expression, the leisured look he has especially when writing. He looks up after a moment, noticing my presence.

        "Hey, Lance! How are ya?" he says, with that frustrated look dissolving in an instant.

        "I'm okay," I reply in a voice that sounded a lot more rude than I intended it to be. "did I come at a wrong time? I didn't want to interrupt your work or anyth—"

        "Haha, that's fine. I'm just having a little disagreement with your mother currently. Don't worry, we'll sort things out in due time." 

... That hasn't been the first time he's brushed off my question, since they brushed off information about me having a best friend. While I'm curious as to both what my dad was upset about and who my best friend is, I decide now wouldn't be the best time to bring that up.

        "Is there something you wanted to show me?" My dad asks, eyeing the book in my hands with a quizzical look on his face. He closes his laptop and sets it aside for the time being to give me his undivided attention.

        "Oh, um, yeah, there is," I stutter, being caught off guard after allowing myself to start daydreaming. "I was wondering, would you take a look at this book for me? I'd prefer if you don't look inside the book. I just got it today, and I'd like your opinion on the cover since I thought it looked odd compared to other books."

        "Let me take a look..." I then hand him the book, grimacing slightly in realization it's a paperback. "Not too fond of paperback books. Hard for me to keep in good condition. Hmm... I notice the lack of an author or summary on the back, just as I'm sure most people would. There aren't any reviews on the back either, so I'm assuming it's probably new."

New? I got the opposite idea, I had thought it was old. Now that I think about it, most old books are hardcover books. I suppose it could be regarded as new. It's not in bad shape at all, it looks like it has been kept in good condition over how long it has been in, well, existence. 

        "I agree with you that it's odd. I'd say it's definitely worth a read—you know what they say, 'Don't judge a book by its cover.'" he chuckles at his own joke for a second, "Though I am aware that saying doesn't apply to real books, for the most part. Overall, I think the cover looks a bit open, as in it lets your mind wander as to what it could mean with the sky and all. The katana must have something to do with the story, I'm guessing. Symbolism and what not." and with that, he picks up his laptop and goes back to what he was doing. He looks less irritated now, though it makes me wonder if he just appears that way to hide it. 

        "Alright, thanks." I tell him, and I head back into my room. I close the door behind me, and head to my bed. I sigh, finally being satisfied with information I have gained due to speculation and decide to open the book. I flip past the first two pages which are blank. The third page displays a message in italic text:

        "In loving memory of my daughter, Alex Starr."

Alex Starr? Who—

        A massive migraine suddenly pierces my head and makes my mind go null. I can't think of anything as I fall back into my bed and lie there in agony. I don't have any strength to scream. I pass out after two minutes of blinding pain.