Prologue

The idea for this story came to me a few weeks ago and just hasn't left me alone since then, in honestly I'm not much of a fan of Twilight...at all...it's a guilty please more than anything. But this idea's stuck with me so I'm gonna give it a go and would love to hear what you think about it.
Nothing much of anything occurs in this chapter but I'm hoping that its more of an indication for the general tone the overall story will take and intrigue you in some way... :)
Hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think about this prologue!

Drip,

Drip,

Drip,

Drip,

The floorboards of the old shack, for that is all it could truly be referred to as, creak under foot as she steps forth into the room, the door swinging closed with a squeak and a bang behind her as it hits the frame. Disinterested brown eyes scan to the continuous drip, drip, drip of rusted the brass tap over the stone basin set into the wooden countertop in the kitchen and as she drops her bag to the floor beside her the whole home seems to rattle at the foundations and the drip, drip, drip comes to an abrupt stop.

The air in Forks seemed thicker, denser even, than the city air she was used too – the towering trees of the forests overlooking each side of her house provided a caged and stifling atmosphere, one of loneliness and solitude, the only connection to further civilisation being that of the dirt track acting as a driveway and connecting to the forest road at the end of her drive.
But that'd do nicely for her.
After years stuck in one house with so many girls, it was bliss having her own area of such solitude – distanced from not only the girls and the hysteria which usually surrounded the house, but distanced also from the rest of the world. This is why she chose here, in Forks, a small town in Washington and further to that, a home at the very edge of all known civilisations it seemed. Moving to a different State marks a completely new start, away from all the melodrama of her life before.

The light mist which seemed to hang in the air around Forks appeared heavier at her seclusion beside the woods, as though the trees themselves emitted a fog from their branches to shield her from the rest of the world and hide her in this haven. Though the damp air was little to adjust too compared to her change in accommodation – the wooden shack she'd chosen was far removed from the marble halls and swirling banisters mounted atop endless staircases leading down wide and echoing halls that she was so used to, having grown up surrounded by such grandeur since such a young age. The old shack creaked and groaned with every step and the cobwebs and dust mounted along the sides was a clear indication of its almost abandoned state. There were gaps between floorboards with thick mud bubbling up from between the holes and in one corner of the main room there appeared to be a growing damp issue where the wood was rotting and weak. While the room was sparse, with only a rickety old couch placed to the right with one leg falling off and a long coffee table placed in front of it with groves missing from the legs as though creatures had been nibbling away, she couldn't help but run her hand over the rough walls and through the thick dust layered across the back of the couch as she moved towards the kitchen. For such an old home, the place was relatively open plan, with the kitchen appearing towards the back of the home, following on from the living room and stopping against the rickety old staircase reaching to the upper floor. A large, though, dirty and cracked window was set above the rather sizable rectangular stone basin and looked out over the forest at the back of her home, far into the trees until they disappeared into the fog that hung log over the ground. Splintering wood made up the countertop of her kitchen as they curved to fit the walls of the shack, breaking only for the old green gas oven placed in the middle. The island, which took up a majority of the kitchen space, was topped with the same misshapen and damaged wooden boards, with the cupboards surround the base in the same dull green as the cooker, missing corners and hanging off at their hinges.

The man who sold her the property did so at a remarkably low price and seemed eager to get the home off his hands, and while she knew it'd be in no wondrous condition, she hadn't realised how much work would be needed to be done, though she couldn't find herself at all disenchanted with the history which seemed to bubble forth from the foundations of the house with every creak of her steps.

Looking up from the bottom step of the old staircase, which was worn and bowing in the middle of each step, the once polished varnish chipping off in large flakes and leaving behind a rough and unforgiving texture, the girl began her ascent to the upper floor, though the steps seemed to cave further under her weight as though unable to support such a force after so long of disuse. The stairs opened into simply a short and narrow hallway with three doors leading off, one on each side and one at the end of the hall. The first door to the right led to a bathroom, complete with a standalone sink with the same brass taps as those in the kitchen and a narrow bath in the same dull green as the cooker below. While the second door, to the left of the hall, leads to a bare room, the ceiling slopping in on each side to accommodate the roof of the home and a slim window in the gap of the wall where the ceiling met. Finally, the girl, turns to the final room in the hallway, softly closing the door to the bare room behind her as she moves down the hall slowly, seeing the begins of rot in the corner of floorboards beside the final door. Opening the door revealed a room flooded with light as a large window, similar to that of the one in the kitchen, opened up at the front of the house, overlooking the driveway and providing enough of a view so as to see the forest path at the end through the low hanging trees. A four poster bed was placed to the right of the room against the wall with thick, heavy curtains still hanging around the bed, pulled back as they must have been left when the previous occupants left the premises as the crease od the fabrics were filled with dust and muck. A vanity sat across from the bed, a tarnished white one with three mirrors mounted across the top – though each were cracked and damaged in some way.

She moved forward toward the window at the front of the room, standing before it and looking out at the setting sun in front of her, barely visible through the fog settling against the ground of her dirt driveway and the low hanging branches of those protective trees in front of her.

The girl pulls back from the wood to take a look around the room she will call her home, noticing the origins of the damp she'd found downstairs in the corner of the room, just beginning to rot the floorboards from the wall. As she sat on the thick bed sheets, once a rich ruby but now faded red, a plume of unsettled dust rose around her and the floors creaked in warning beneath her as that muted drip, drip, drip of the kitchen tap began again beneath her.

Falling back onto the bed, she stares up at the canopy above her and at a small spider weaving its already elaborate web in the corner, against the bedpost. The safety she found in the home and the comfort she felt in the history and ethereal surroundings of the shack were palpable around her as she breathed in the musty scent of the room, relaxing into the quilt beneath her.

As different as this home was to her usual, it was hers and it was a home she would make her own.
Alone and in solitude.
Exactly as she wanted.

Drip,

Drip,

Drip,

Drip.