In visions of the dark night
I have dreamed of joy departed-
But a waking dream of life and light
Hath left me broken-hearted.

Ah! What is not a dream by day
To him whose eyes are cast
On things around him with a ray
Turned back upon the past?

That holy dream- that holy dream,
While all the world were chiding,
Hath cheered me as a lovely beam
A lonely spirit guiding.

What though that light, thro' storm and night,
So trembled from afar-
What could there be more purely bright
In Truth's day-star?

I smiled as I flipped through the leather-bound poetry book. Edgar Allen Poe was one of my favorite poets, and I had hand-copied his most of his works within the journal. I use it as sort of an inspiration when writing my own works. Not my poetry of course, that came with the joys and sorrows of my own life. It was my stories in which I usually delved myself in. My own reality, my dreams and hopes and desires are inscripted within my works. They are a sort of escape from the harsh life I'm forced to live.

"Joyce! Where have you been, I've been looking all over for you. Mark and Aaron are about to open their gifts." Anna, my best friend of thirteen years said to me in a worried tone. Anna was a gorgeous woman of seventeen, her figure was fully developed, and in all the right places. Pale blonde hair that cascaded down her shoulders in a wave and dark blue eyes made the look of a man-killer.

I myself was not bad either; at least that's what my male friends say. Though I was not quite as developed as Anna, I make up for it in my eyes, which were a vibrant green and carry only a few visible discolored lines. I don't really like my hair too much. It's too thick and a plain light brown. My parents won't let me color it, believing re-coloring body parts an abomination.

"Sorry, I got distracted and forgot the time." I reply, though the real reason I left is because of the large party. I'm not very much of a social person. I prefer to keep to a few close friends and the party of one-hundred was not allowing me that comfort. I reluctantly pick up my bag and head into the large party room.

Of course everyone's attention was to the front, where the birthday boys, or rather men now, were about to open their many gifts. I sat down near the edge, just within their sight. Aaron see's me and waves, a bright glint in his eyes from all the attention. I smile back, putting on a believable face of happiness. It takes about half an hour but finally the two are finished with their gifts. Another half hour of my torture goes on before people start to leave. I would have left myself but Mark and Aaron are practically my best friends so I stay a bit longer. Anna stays as well, helping clean up. Before anyone can breathe a paper fight ensues from the leftover gift wrap. Aaron is pinned to the ground and we all wrap him up in the paper.

Mark and Aaron are identical twins and practically inseparable. Aaron though is a bit more outgoing than Mark, but then again Mark is more of an artist than his brother. Both have football bodies and stand 5'10". Mark wears his hair two inches longer but both carry the same dark brown color and chocolate eyes. After everything was clean we all sat down together chatting. After a while Joyce and Mark left (why Mark left I had no idea), leaving me with Aaron.

We sat in comfortable silence for awhile before Aaron spoke.
"You know, I may be eighteen now, but I don't feel any different." He stated. I laugh and reply.

"You've been eighteen for a day; you're not going to feel any different for a while." He shrugs.

"I've heard you're supposed to, especially after you change out your D.L." I roll my eyes at him.

"You can do that tomorrow, and whoever you heard that from was bullocking you. You're still the same person Aaron, it's just now you're a legal adult." He smiles and leans back.

"Yeah you're right."

"When am I not?"

"When you're reading cooking directions." We both laugh at this. I'm no cook, and reading cooking directions is worse. Back in Home EC in the seventh grade I said two tablespoons of yeast instead of two teaspoons. Needless to say our product spilled over the pan and caught on fire. I look at the time and swear.

"What's wrong?" Asks Aaron.

"My curfew is in twenty minutes and I have to walk." I didn't like to walk on the streets of London after dark. The thought of being kidnapped and raped terrified me.
"Well then Madam, let me walk you home on this most daring night." Aaron replied in a French accent and helped me up from the table.

"Why thank you kind sir." I reply in a heavier accent. We both laugh and begin to walk down the street. It was around 9 o'clock at night and the street we were traveling was relatively quiet. It was after a few minutes that I began to feel something was terribly wrong. I felt like someone was following us. Aaron is completely oblivious as he continues to chatter. Then for some reason he goes down an alleyway, as if entranced.

Big Mistake.

We reach the end of the alley and he comes out of the trance, suddenly confused. "What the hell?" Someone behind us laughs and we turn. At the alley entrance stands two figures. Although I cannot tell the color I know they are in hooded robes from their shape. They each rise up a strange stick device at us.

"What should we do with the spare?" One asks in a raspy voice.

"Kill him, we only need the girl." Before either of us can react the second yells "Avada Kedavra!" Green light shoots out the tip of the stick and hits Aaron. He crumples to the ground with a loud 'thump' and lays still. I suck in a breath, unable to move. That is until one starts towards me. Quickly I grab a bottle out of my purse and spray its' contents in the man's face. He hisses and covers his eyes, unable to do anything but writher in pain from the pepper spray.

"Crucio!" The other yells and points the stick at me. Suddenly I am overcome with excruciating agony and fall to the ground, screaming and writhing from the pain. Even in the chaos of my own body I hear a swooshing sound over my head and the two attackers yelling. Then, everything goes black…