Forever

Whisper In The Wind

     Hazel slowly let her fingers run along the edges of each worn leather book. Some were old, the binding breaking apart in small cracks. Others appeared new, the cover smooth and glowing with fresh color. There seemed to be miles of them, the shelves towering above her small frame.

     She had been wandering the Moore's property for hours, as apparently they lived in a mansion. Everything was intricately decorated, the details more beautiful than anything she'd come across in her isolated life. She felt like she'd stepped into an old movie set. The long, stretching halls that seemed endless. Leading into what seemed hundreds of different rooms. The walls were dark, carvings telling stories of different battles, others showing odd creatures born out of nightmares. There were many long, winding stairs leading up into the other floor of the house, where most of the family's rooms were held.

     Other members of the Moore family definitely lived in the mansion, but Hazel had yet to be introduced to them. She heard passing whispers when she was sure she was being watched from the shadows, stalking the unfamiliar person intruding their home. She could feel the chills run up her spine as unknown breezes blew her hair around her face. According to Jayden he had instructed the rest of the family to keep their distance, until Hazel was accustomed to the drastic changes. But she had a sinking feeling they weren't as far as she might like.

     Ever since she'd sketched out the nightmare before Jayden, no other visions had plagued her mind. She'd slept in the unfamiliar bed two nights now, each night a dreamless sleep. It perplexed her, as most of her nights were filled with horrible nightmares. Though it was true most she did not remember, she knew when they came. And since being brought to the Moore Manor, there had been nothing. Her mind oddly quiet in the many hours spent by herself.

     Jayden had insisted on it being safer remaining inside the mansion while he made "preparations" elsewhere. So she took the time to explore, see how different the life of a vampire was from her own. Strangely the dark rooms she hesitantly entered did not frighten her. Did not give her the coldness she was expecting from a place like this. She felt only curiosity, half expecting to open a refrigerator one day and find cheesy bags of blood lining the shelves. It didn't bother her the way it should have.

     In a way it scared her, how her mind was simply accepting everything without a major panic attack. Even as she stared at the statues, horrible creatures guarding different corners of the mansion, she felt that tug begin in her heart. Different than when she was with Jayden but it was there. She felt like she should know the twisted features, the stories told along the huge black walls.

     She shook herself, distracting herself with the thousands of books lining her field of sight. She'd stayed in this room longer than the others, absorbing herself in something somewhat normal. It smelled strongly of old leather and wood, the peaceful silence enveloping her. Plush, leather couches were sporadically placed throughout the huge room. A few tables occupying the space next to them. The floors were a dark, rich chocolate color. A few of the wooden boards creaking as she stepped across them, echoing around the walls.

     She stopped, a bright blue book catching her eye. It glowed in the dim lighting, calling out to her amongst every other book. She let her slender fingers gently slide it out of it's place, the dust billowing down to the floor. She admired the beautiful designs on the cover before she even ran her eyes over the title. The gold embroidery swirling over the cover in perfect shapeless patterns. Running over the edges fitting perfectly with the shape. The title was in the same gold swirls, standing out against the blue background. 

     To Be Human

     There was no author, nothing else about the book inside the first few pages. It struck her more personally than it should have, laughing at the state she was in. The idea of reading what it implied and not being able to recognize herself in the pages stopped the beating of her heart. Yet a part of her craved to read the words, a futile hope at proving this truth wrong. Her hands trembled as she held the book gently, like it was a porcelain doll she was scared would crack.