Chapter One
Everything was quite in the Perry Orphanage; all except the turning of pages. Brooke had been lost in her book for hours, unable to find a way out; her only choice would be to finish the book. Before she was able to finish her book, sleep took a hold of her, and didn't let go until the morning.
Still at the age of fifteen Brooke had a love for books; a love that was quite uncommon. This love for books and reading had been one of the only gifts given to her by her parents. Her parents greatly supported the written language, unlike her "family" now; the orphanage family. Brooke has vague memories of her parents reading to her when she was little, but she has no memory of how they died. No one really ever told her exactly what happened, but then again she doesn't want to know. Brooke wants to remember them as they are in her mind.
Not many of the other children her age in the orphanage were educated enough to read thick books. Even though they could read a little and write a little, they still had no respect for the written language. And because of the Brooke was punished, she was branded odd by many of the children, except maybe one or two. Mostly she just kept to herself and her books.
Brooke awoke to see that the clock hanging on the white washed walls above many rows of bunk beds, told her that she was an hour late for her morning chores. This was not a good thing. She had found that there was a note taped to the wooden ladder that allowed her to climb down from the top bunk. In sloppy handwriting, the note had informed her that she was to immediately go to the Headmistress' office, when she woke up, and to also bring the book that she was reading last night. Busted.
"Young lady I want you to stop wasting my time reading those bloody books of yours. Go upstairs to the attic and try to rid it of all the cobwebs, and dust bunnies. I don't want to see you until the task is completed." Ordered Headmistress Weblon. Since Brooke was not yet excused, she stood remaining in the Headmistress' office, in front of the desk where the widowed women sat. After a second of silence, Headmistress Weblon abruptly stood up, and walked over to the closed office door. She opened it, and as Brooke was about to walk out, the Headmistress held out her hand, and Brooke gave her, her beloved book.
Brooke stalked down the hall to her crowded room to change into the rags that they called cleaning clothes. She was just about done tying her apron when one of her dearest friends, Elsa walked into the room they shared along with many others.
"Did Widowed Weblon catch you reading when you were supposed to be doing chores again?" Elsa asked very unsurprised.
"You know me too well. " said Brooke with a smile. It was true they did know each other very well, better than they knew themselves.
"Is your punishment cleaning the attic until it is spotless. Let me guess she took your book away. " suggested Elsa. Brooke nodded silently in response to the questions.
Without another word Brooke dragged herself up the steep stairs to the attic. As she walked up the stairs there was a low and long, "Creeeeeeek", that warned her not to go into the attic. Brooke simply ignored the creek and continued on to the top of the stairwell landing. With each step she took made more unsettled dust float in the already musty air. Now standing if front of the attic door, Brooke reached out for the bronze doorknob. Before she had rested her hand on the doorknob, it steadily rocked open about an inch or two. Brooke froze with her hand still stretched out just an inch from the doorknob.
"I will not turn around and leave the task unfinished. I will fulfill my duties. It is all in my head. I am the only living thing up here." She whispered calmly to herself. After a moment of reassurance, Brooke boldly opened the door to the deserted attic and stepped inside the gloomy place. The attic was large, with a round window that supplied little light. After she had manage to walk a couple feet without brutally tripping and injuring herself, Brooke found the light bulb hanging from the ceiling. She pulled the chain in hopes that more light would be allowed, but the light bulb was old, and broken. "The light from the window will have to do for now, but when I gets dark, I will have a big problem." She said in no one in particular. Looking around, Brooke was able to see trunks lined, and stacked up against the walls. She guessed that these trunks are possessions of the orphans, which many do not know of yet. After looking around at her new surroundings, she soon realized that there was one large trunk in the middle of the room, nothing else but that one trunk was there. She left her secure spot by the door to go and investigate what this one trunk was and what it was doing all by itself in the middle of the attic.
Up close Brooke was able to see the trunks real size. It was so large that it shouldn't even be called a trunk; it was the size of almost three trunks put together. She ran her finger along the smooth but dusty surface, and found the color of the leather bound trunk to be a deep royal blue. That's odd. A blue leather bound trunk. That is extremely uncommon, I have never seen one before. Brooke silently thought to herself. She decided that to open the strange colored trunk, and see what was inside. After brushing off the dust with her apron, she gingerly unbuckled the locks. The trunk moaned as she opened the top half of it. The only contents of the large strangely colored trunk were leather bound book that looked to be as old as time, and a thin envelope with loopy handwriting on it.
Just before she was about to close the lid to the trunk, something caught her eye. The loopy handwriting on the envelope said her name on it. Brooke Aungrey is what is said. In a daze she opened the envelope to find a letter and a picture of two people, whom she did not recognize at first. Both these items were yellowed with age. She unfolded the letter, and this is what it read:
Our Dearest Brooke,
Your father and I decided to write you this letter to let you know that we love you very much. Since we are not here to help guide you and answer all the questions I know that you are burning to ask, we have left you with this book. This book is very special and dear in our family, my mother gave it to me, and now I am giving it to you. This item will help you discover who you really are, but beware its contents can be cruel and deceiving. I trust that you will be careful and wise, in your journey of discovering who you are and why you are.
Love,
Mother and Father
Brooke put the letter on the floor, and picked up the yellowed picture that was lying in the oddly colored trunk. The two people in the picture were a younger version of her beloved parents. Her father and mother both had brown hair. Her fathers was a dark chocolate color; almost black. Her mother on the other hand had light creamy colored curly hair. Her father and mother were both tall lean people. Her mother had freckles, and her father had extremely large dimples. So, Brooke ended up with freckles, small dimples, the height of 5"11, and creamy caramel colored hair that waved.
Just thinking about this made Brooke shudder, and smile. She was part of her parents, and they were with her in her heart. For a long while she was in a trance like state. Just sitting on the floor with her back against the wood door, mesmerized by the picture of her parents. This is how I am going to remember them, just like in this picture. I will remember them to be happy, cheerful, and loving. I will always remember the gift that they gave me, the gift of reading, and writing. Thought Brooke as she was sitting on the dusty old wood floor.
Suddenly there was a sound that filled the air, a sound that was fainter than the sound of a feather dropping on the floor. Oddly, somehow this faint sound had brought Brooke out of the trance-like state, which she was under for a long time. She quickly became extremely alert, waiting to hear the sound one more time. It happened another time, but it was still too faint to make out what the sound was, or where it was coming from. The sound came again, but it was louder, with more of a rapid pace. It had a rhythmic sound to it. Brooke stood up frozen, and wide-eyed, as if she had heard it for the first time. Whatever, or whomever it was, it was now chanting, B-R-O-O-K-E. B-R-O-O-K-E. B-R-O-O-K-E.
Slowly walking around the room, she began to think that this was a joke or a prank that was being played out by some of the other orphans. She soon learned that it was not a prank being played out by the other orphans. The sound, her name was coming from the oversized, oddly colored leather trunk. It was coming from the leather bound book. Brooke had never believed in ghosts, or spirits, so this began to make the curiosity in Brooke grow. Just as suddenly, and softly as the sound had come, it went. The first chance that she was gotten, Brooke picked up the leather bound book, and went to go sit were she had been sitting before. She laid the book in front of her on the floor, and just stared at it with caution and utter curiosity. She sat there for yet another long while pondering the situation that had just happened. She wanted to gather all her thoughts, before she started to make the assumption that she was going crazy, and that maybe reading was bad for your mind.
Brooke finally made a decision. She would read the book, but not here in the attic. She needed some fresh air, because there was a good possibility that the dust and the musty smell of the attic have gotten to her head. Brooke walked slow and steady to the old cracked window, as if she was balancing a jug of water on top of her head. She put her big hands on the bottom of the window, and pulled up. At first the window was stuck, but she tried with all her might, and she finally got it opened. Being curious, Brooke stuck her head out the window, and looked around outside. She noticed for the first time, that it was pitch black, with the exception from the candles she lit. She also noticed that to her left, there were some steps that lead from the window to a small private balcony, that looked to her like it hadn't been used in years. To her right, was nothing but air, and the empty carefully paved street below.
Brooke ran back to the place were she had sat and where the peculiar leather bound book lay. She carefully picked it up and grabbed a candle. As she was walking back to the window, she held the book with her arm stretched out, as if it were rabid and going to bite her. Brooke climbed out the window, and onto the first step of stairs that led to the private balcony. Right as her thin-soled shoe hit the poorly concreted step, the sound of thunder cracked in the black night sky. She began to feel raindrops on her face and arms, steadily growing harder.
Brooke took another step, and missed it completely, due to the fact that she had no light, because it was raining. She had stepped too far to her right. In order to retain balance in the pouring rain, she let go of the book and candle, to try and grab onto something stable. The strange leather bound book had drooped two stories, and lay open and soaked through on the paved street, almost directly under the spot were Brooke was trying to regain balance. She wobbled, and then fell. As she was falling, she began to scream, but barley any sound came out, as if someone had pressed the mute button to her vocal chords. Falling face first, she was able to she that just ten feet below her, there was a blue mist arising from the spot where the book lay open. She was a couple feet away from the ground, this is when the blue mist surrounded her, and swallowed her up. The blue mist had then retreated back into the book. That night, Brooke Aungrey had fallen off of a two-story building, but never hit the ground.