CORDELIA'S JOURNAL
Entry: January 17, 2016
I fell asleep while writing...
This is what happened yesterday. No, today…
1 a.m. I entered the dark forest, and no one tried to stop me. Looking back, the old woman from before nodded slightly. Her tired eyes seemed almost hopeful, no, they were smiling — as if silently celebrating what was to come.
Was I wrong? Had I walked into some kind of trap?
or a a cult?
This is how the character always dies: too curious, mistaking courage for foolishness.And that's exactly what I am now. Foolish.
Stepping forward, I felt as though I had crossed into another world. The air turned cold and still. Withered plants crumpled under my feet, breaking the eerie silence of the dark forest. In the distance, a lonely castle loomed, a forgotten monument. Its walls glowed a luminous blue, reflecting the moonlight.
I walked toward the castle. The path was strewn with dead leaves and withered flowers, as if the place had been abandoned for centuries. At the end of the path stood an old fountain, directly before the entrance. Carved from limestone, weathered to a soft gray, it held a slender column of sculpted cherubs. Their faces were dark and solemn, each holding an urn from which water had once poured. Now the basin lay dry, its surface cracked and dusted.
It must have been beautiful once where water cascaded down like silver falls, glimmering like crushed diamonds under the sunlight.
Why do I feel like I've seen it in its glory before?
A lightning bolt flashed in the distance. I jumped, startled at how solemn the cherubs seemed. It felt like a scene from a horror film where a statue's expression changes with every thunderclap. One of those warnings telling me to turn around, to never look back, or risk dying here.
Yet I am not in a horror movie. As mysterious as it was, the place felt more welcoming than oppressive. Something deep inside me whispered to stay — that whatever I was seeking was here, and I must not lose this chance.
I climbed the small stairs and reached the giant oak door. Pushing it open, I felt its weight; the door groaned in protest before revealing a place utterly different from the outside.
The castle gleamed with gold and silver. A red velvet carpet stretched across the floor, immaculate and well-maintained... worth a fortune by itself. Tall glass windows arched overhead, draped in long, velvety curtains that spilled like waterfalls to the floor. Even the chandeliers glittered with gold and diamonds. At the center stood a grand staircase with golden handrails that shone beneath the chandeliers' glow.
When I touched the rail, it was so spotless it struck me: someone lives here. Someone must be caring for this place, even if the garden outside has been forgotten.
Would they report me for trespassing?
I turned to leave, but then I heard it - a familiar melody. The same melody from my dreams. Lonely, yet calming.
I followed it. A violin played a solemn waltz, its notes ebbing and flowing like pain and longing trapped for years.
Down the hallway, my feet led me to a double door that was slightly ajar. I peeked inside.
And there he was. His back to me. A man with shoulder-length blond hair, playing the violin.
I stared. I shouldn't have, but something about him felt familiar. An emotion rose in me I hadn't expected to feel at the sight of a stranger's back. My chest tightened as the same yet different ache I'd felt when my grandmother died started to resurface.
Grief? I don't know...
Something in him and in the melody made my heart ache. I clutched my chest, suffocated by the feeling, tears stinging my eyes.
Am i sick? Was I poisoned? It was the only question running through my mind as I gasped for air, panicking.
Then I've felt the music stopped. Thunder boomed while the lightning lit the room in sharp white, and the silence pressed down heavy.
I looked up and felt the stranger's gaze. Lightning flashed again, illuminating his blue familiar eyes.
I gasped for air and my world tilted.
Then only a blur — the only thing I remember was a man running towards me, face covered by a white mask. A single teardrop drawn below the eye and happy smile painted across it.
A ridiculous, haunting grin.
—----------------End of Entry—-------------------