Somewhere In The Night

by Mrs.Nelly Dean

Everyone is haunted by ghosts from old,forgotten love affairs. Rachel Berry is no exception. She creat her memories in Lima and took them with her when a tragic twist in her life forced her to tak an unexpected trip to New York. This a stpry about Santana Lopes and all your favourite Glee characters,stages,musicals shows,romances and the only ghost Rcahel can't escape from: Finn.

1. Chapter 1

Prologue.

I think there's one crucial thing you should know in life:
Eventually,we'll all be haunted by memories. I don't know anyone who isn't. I don't know anyone who doesn't have a story to tell. That's how life works: When we lose sonething,we have something new to add to our story. And unfortunaly,the story of the things we lost is the only one thar we can't rewrite,no matter how much we want. Some people (the realistic ones,the logical ones,the sane ones) simply let their story and their memories and their loss be. They make themselves believe that time will heal the wound,they make themselves believe that time is a reliable thing. They accept the fact that those things were just a chapter in the giant book of their lives. But there are some other people (the insane,the passionate,the ilogical,the crazy ones) that know a little better. We know that time can't not be trusted. We know that those things are not just a chapter. They are the book itself. And we convince ourselves that we are being haunted for a reason. That the story of the lost things remains with us because the final chapter is still unwritten. Because they were always supposed to return to us. And we believe,as firmly as we believe that believing can work miracles,that our mad existences won't have a real meaning until we get them back.
There a more than five hundred sixty five thousand six hundred types of memories. Memories of the words we should've said when it was the right time,memories of the flowers we should've send before they died,of the letters we should've written before we stopped having someone to send them to. Or,if you are like me,you can have the fifth hundredth sixty fith thousand seventh hudreth type of memories:
The Ghosts Of A Love Gone By.
These are,without a doubt,the hardest to deal with. And the most worth fighting Desesperated passion is powerful,in more ways than we'll ever undesrtand.
The Ghosts Of A Love Gone By generally live in the back of our minds,and they're a peculiar type of memories because we don't recall them from time to time: They are always there. We become our neglected romance,and our neglected romance becomes us. In a quiet,almost unnoticable way. But they do.
My ghost also lives in the back of my closest,as a football leather jacket,that belonged to the boy I once loved. I still do. It wouldn't be there if I didn't.
Tonight the room is only iluminated by the street light that sneaks trough the window,and the noise that comes from the New York night is the only soundtrack,apart from my thingers running trough the fabric.
I'm here to tell my story. About my lost things.
My stolen jacket.
My ghost.
And the love I swore I would recover.