N/A: So, this is a start, huh? I'm a first timer over here, so bare with me. After weeks reading The Book Thief, I just couldn't hold myself and I reached a point where the story was almost entirely written on my mind and I just needed to put it on paper. So here it is, getting shapes and words as we speak. The story isn't exactly ready on my mind, but I like to believe it'll solve itself along the way. Besides that, I'd really like to send a huge hug and uncountable war tanks baked cookies to lola's hurricane (Nix), my awesome friend and greatest beta reader in the whole wide blue world.

- Colorblind -

Prologue

A story lost among many others

It was a sunny afternoon when I started writing.

Yeah, I know what you just thought, "all stories start the same", but I like to start something from the beginning and, right now, the beginning is the weather. I like to imagine you'll picture that sunny afternoon as you go on the reading, and I even dare to believe you'll try to guess the smells in the air that afternoon; maybe a cup of coffee somewhere, or the smell of the flowers in my backyard, perhaps a cake just baked in the kitchen. I really hope you're like that, reader, because that way I feel like I'm telling a story to someone who deserves to know the biggest love story in the world. From my point of view, at least.

But hold on a second, I'm getting ahead of myself here.

I'm not into names at all, but if you're one of those who like to know everything before start a book – or a simple story divided in chapters like this one – you can call me Lily. Still, I agree with Juliet about a name being no part of any man or woman, so I don't mind if you don't tell me yours. I'll call you reader, and I'm sure we'll get along just fine that way.

As I already told you, this is a story about love, but maybe that's just because I'm a hopeless romantic, I always have been. If you're different, you may think this is a story about a war, or a nation, or how people can overcome obstacles in times of difficulty. In the end, reader, the truth is this is a story about all of that, and nothing at the same time. This is a story about people and nations and governments and a few maniacs who came along the way. Of course, the way I'll tell it'll look like a love story, hopefully, but once again that's just me, you're free to imagine this story the way you like it, I really don't mind. It used to be my personal fairytale, but since now I'm sharing it with you, nothing fairer than let you imagine the way you like. We're done in that specific subject.

It was a sunny afternoon when I started writing.

There weren't any clouds in the sky that day and I have to confess I stayed out there for a while, just staring at the sky, and thinking about all the stories I heard about how people died and went to heaven, some became clouds, some became stars. At that time, I couldn't see any of them and for a split terrifying second I thought maybe they were lost, and that's how I ended up here, in front of my white computer, sharing this story with you. All the scenes are vivid in my head, but I'm old now and I feel like I own them this. I own them that people remember who they were and how they changed the future of many people, as much as bullets and bombs did back then. I own them that everyone remember their names and think about them in difficult times, when they lose their faith or don't believe in love anymore.

I own them that people never forget the names Lucas Scott and Peyton Sawyer, and a few more that came along the way.

And that's how our story begins.