Count Cain Fan Fiction / Godchild Fan Fiction ❯ Letters From Nowhere ❯ Prologue ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer:I own nothing,only this plot. All the rightful Count Cain/Godchild characters belong to the great Kaori Yuki-sama. I'm only borrowing them temporarily and will put them back where I found them when I'm done. Thank you.

 

 

You make a living by what you get, you make a life by what you give. - Anon.-

 

 

Below average.

 

That's all you could say for her really.

 

She was one of those dregs of society who expected little out of life and vice versa. Though she eaked out a meager living, all she wanted was a small content existence and asked for no more than that. Life and the people therein paid about as much as attention to her as one would a gnat. Only dealing when necessary and quickly or use her as a scape goat for their own mistakes. Even her own parents had abandoned her long ago to further their own selfish ambitions with new loves, new children and all-around new lives. Only acknowledging her out of guilty obligation when holidays came about with a check and hollow wishes of good luck.

 

For she was neither pretty, accomplished nor outwardly talented like her perfect step-sisters and brothers. Not even worth a second glance if you passed her on the street. Had the world cared to come out of it's hard shell long enough it would have found a startling realization.

 

This young woman was one of those rare people both, wise and quietly clever, who understood more about the inner workings of life than itself did. She was kind, yes. That was all well and good. But if one had had the privilege of knowing her would have found a multifaceted personality of such depth and character, it would have left you wondering, "How and the hell did I miss that?!!!"

 

But nobody cared about her opinion, and she had figured out a long time ago that it was better to keep her mouth shut. Nobody was going to listen. Another strange thing about her was though she was a scrape goat and ignored, she felt no rage as a normal person would. Instead she felt pity for she knew that she was extra special, if not where she was now. Then someday it would find her, at least she hoped. For she had seen enough people go to their life's end and not achieve what they were searching for.

 

She practically lived in the Library, books like Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings appealed to her. And she thought the Chronicles of Narnia and The Neverending Story were very nice, up to a point. She liked Saturday Morning Cartoons, Japanese Anime. Avatar, W.I.T.C.H., and Kim Possible were favorite shows. She believed in magic and other worlds and such. Among other things, she was picky but each had their own lessons to teach and she welcomed them for they taught her more in a single half-hour than her peers ever had in years. A favorite hobby was to insert an alternate version of herself into the stories, and she lived a life fuller than most people could even dream.

 

It helped keep precious hope alive. Other than that on the outside she was, below average.

 

And it was that same hope that led her to that destiny she was always sure would come for her. In her small hometown there was an even smaller street that was known as, "Antique Row." Not particularly fancy, and packed though with mostly junk for the few tourists who bumbled through town, now and again. But if you came on the right day and not afraid to get yourself dirty you could sometimes find beautiful stuff. It was on one of those particular days that she found, it.

 

It also happened to be in the one upscale shop on that rundown stretch of road. Two measly days after she had just lost her job on a technicality that her typical hateful managers had just waited to terminate her loyal service on, that ironically wasn't even her fault. But it was just one of many things that had not been going well that year. But it was an impulsive purchase, paid for with her few remaining funds that should have gone for car insurance. Still she wasn't the first person in the history of everything to do such, nor would she be the last. Plus, she was a woman when she wanted something she usually got it no matter the cost, actually in this case. When she got it home and into the spare bedroom she used for nothing other than storage for lack of anywhere else to put it. She took the time to really study it for the first time.

 

A gorgeous desk, nineteenth century by the look of it. It was small for it's size though in extremely fine condition. Appearing to be pure Victorian stock she wouldn't have been surprised if it had once graced the halls of royalty. She couldn't tell what wood it was but it was dark with the original finish. It had cubbies for letters and such, drawers and shelves for knick-knacks with a scroll door to shut it all in. All in all, it was worth every penny she had paid for it. But there was just something surreal about it, almost as if it didn't belong. Maybe that was what attracted her in the first place; whatever the case she knew it was not your typical piece of furniture.

 

Oh, how right she was.

 

For it wasn't too long after that she found, the first letter.