The door opened and a cold air came out from the empty room. Black shoes stepped over the threshold and came to a halt on the other side. Dark eyes swept over the room. A tiny wrinkle formed between his eyebrows as his eyes settled on the book on the nightstand. The sound of slow steps and curtains dancing in the soft breeze from the window filled the room. He had never believed that he would actually come to miss her the day she was gone. It would have happened eventually. Now all that remained was a book, a pen and the faint smell of her that still lingered in the room. The book had a brown leather binding giving it an old look. Black letters shone towards him from the top of the book, forming a single word. Diary.

He looked down at the book with a displeased expression on his face. He never really liked that book. She hadn’t liked it either. At least not to begin with. She had flung the book into the wall and yelled at it with anger filling her voice; however, she would never let him near it. If he made as much as an attempt to simply just touch the book she would wrap her arms protectively  around it and hug it towards her chest. It had annoyed him at the time. Now however, he was free to do whatever he wanted with it. He could burn it, rip out the pages, toss it away or whatever else he would want to do with it.

Even though his biggest desire was to rip out the pages one by one and watch them turn to ashes, he found himself picking up the book and sitting down on the bed simply staring at it. The book had no form for lock. The only thing keeping it from blowing open in a strong breeze was a leather strap wrapped four times around it. As if acting on its own, his hand reached for the strap and slowly undid it. It felt wrong opening her diary. He had always wanted to, though it still felt wrong. What made it even worse was knowing that she wouldn’t burst into the room and tear the book out of his hands while cursing him loudly for his curiosity, stupidity and insensitiveness. But even though it felt wrong, his hand still opened the leathery book and his dark eyes turned towards the ink on the first page.

June 3^rd

Dear Diary. Wait no. That just sound completely weird. Well, my mother decided to give me a diary for my birthday. How great. Out of all the things in the world, she decided to give me an empty book. I would say an old, empty book, but the price tag was still attached to the leather when I opened it. I’m surprised at how expensive it was, though she removed it before I could see exactly how expensive. She told me she had a diary when she was my age and that it turned into one of her dearest possessions. I am sure she is telling the truth, but to be honest I still wish she’d given me something else. Call me a spoiled brat, but an empty book that looks old before it’s even been bought isn’t exactly my taste. However, being the loving daughter I am I couldn’t tell her that. Especially not after seeing how happy she looked when I opened the present. So I guess I’ll give this diary thing a try, though I doubt I’ll be writing more than ten pages.

A tiny smile started to form on his lips as his gaze drifted across the page. He would expect nothing less of her. He might not have known her for too long, but he knew her well enough to expect something like what was written on the page. “You spoiled brat.” The words came out as a slight dark chuckle while he slowly shook his head.

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So this is just a taste of how the story is going to be. It’s not exactly a lot of action, but wait for it! It will come soon. I promise. Feel free to comment, subscribe or even upvote if you enjoyed it.