Prologue
MuseHere's the opening chapter. This story will be from Seulgi's POV, enjoy!
Most people would be able to tell you the exact moment when they started falling for someone new. What day it was, what clothes they were wearing, even the song that was playing on the radio when they locked eyes with that person.
Me?
I’ve never been good with details like that. I probably couldn’t even tell you what day it was, much less specifics on serendipitous occasions that are forever seared into the mind’s eye. Most things happen to me in pretty much the same way as falling down the stairs: accidentally.
This time wasn’t any different. I didn’t have any control over the variables mainly because I was asleep. It started with a dream, simple enough in its contents and ethereal vices. But once I woke up, the dream took hold of me, far more forcefully than its predecessors.
And I couldn’t shake it no matter what I tried. I reasoned with it, laughed at it, even bribed it to leave me be. But the dream won outright in the end, like a veteran poker player that never reveals his tell. And now I’m in a strange country, starting a new job in a city that I’ve wanted to visit ever since I was a little girl. But it’s all for the wrong reasons.
One dream, born of a few chance conversations over the Internet, led me to this particular cross-road in my life. But will it change everything? I highly doubt it. I’ve always had a knack for knowing exactly when a dramatic change is about to happen to me. There are always certain signs, premonitions in the air which poke at the very threads of my mind.
Not this time.
I give myself due credit for walking blindly into this particular predicament. But it’s too late to take it back now. Maybe a dream did precipitate all this insanity. Or maybe it was just a means to and end, a single cord pulling me to her all the while, hinting at it in every word, whisper and whim we shared together.
And I can still hear it now, that whispered mantra of hopeless despair, leading me straight into a siren’s hidey-hole.
She stole my senses right out from under me.
She beat me down into submission, a small penance for sheer devotion on my part that I didn’t even know I had in me to possess.
And still the mantra sounds, with the swaying of a feather in the wind, the deliberate effortlessness of a grandfather clock ticking away at my time.
Irene.
Irene, Irene, Irene.
Irene, Irene, Irene.
Irene.
Lol, this may very well be the shortest intro to a story I've ever written :~P
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