There was a sort of solitude in that place, a whispering power that hushed over her and yet commanded her to stay. She felt at peace amongst the forgotten trees and grass, like a queen of the lost, ruler of the cast aside. She wondered how she got to this place. She wondered what path she had chosen, or if she had ever even chosen at all. Somehow though, here she was, in a place where everything was missing and yet nothing was missed, and somehow she was home.

Chapter 1


Emelie Hunter sat looking placidly out at the rain, her eyes fixated on nothing in particular, her finger slowly making circles in her hair. She gave the illusion of one thinking very hard about some complex question, perhaps the meaning of life, but inside her mind was a blank slate.


Suddenly, as if aroused by the soft drumming of the rain, Emelie rose and stepped in front of a large mirror standing in the corner. As she stared back at her reflection, she couldn’t help but smile a little bit. She was growing up. Other people had begun to notice the two small bumps now protruding from beneath her shirts. In a strange way she was proud of her new maturity, like it gave her some unparalleled power.


The rain continued to drum outside, quicker and louder, but Emelie was rooted to her own reflection. Her pale green eyes, like worn out leaves after a storm, had a quality of knowledge, a hidden depth. She felt she could just stare at herself forever.


It wasn’t that she was vain. No, she was too young, too innocent to be vain. It was merely a childish fascination with herself.


“Hello there.”


She spoke to nobody in particular, reveling at the quality of her own voice, but too her surprise, or perhaps not, she got an answer.


“Hello.”


Emelie was not the kind of girl to be startled, she was too imaginative to fall prey to the little shocks of life. So, when she saw her own reflection speak back to her, she merely cocked her head to the side, and stared into the eyes, so similar to her own.


She had read about things like this in storybooks, and in her childishness she still harbored the belief that things like this occurred in the real world. In fact, seeing her reflection talk back was not such a remarkable event to her as it would be to someone like you or me. For her, it was nothing more magical then the rain on the window.