Austen

She found herself reading the familiar words aloud, the sound of them a resonating comfort that seemed to build in the air around her. It was a kind of magic that inspired her, healed her when she was certain that nothing else could reach through to her aching heart.

The bark should have scratched her skin but instead it seemed to simply cradle her and caress her skin as she rested her body along the branch of a tree that was older than her by four years. It had also been a constant companion for her growing up when the brother who should have been watching over her had been constantly sick and in need of quiet rest.

Now it was her quiet shelter against a storm that could not break through the peaceful magic that the book's story wove around her. She could almost pretend that she was apart of that world. She could almost pretend that things were so perfect as she allowed the words to wash over her like ocean waves along the shore.

A tear slid down her cheek as she read the pain Colonel Brandon felt as Marianne lay sickly and near death. To have such love and such passion. It tore her apart inside. She wanted to feel that. All of her life had been relegated to silence and temperance. The only way she had ever managed to live was through books.

Looking up towards the house, she felt her stomach sink as she saw the movers pulling up with one of their large vans followed by a truck full of workers. Today was the last day she would get to hide away in this tree. This would be the time she would get to take refuge in a place she called home. Pressing the book against her chest she couldn't help but feel the need to whisper to the familiar characters.

"I'll be back," she promised. "It might take me weeks or even years, but I'll be back." She could almost feel their approval as the spirits inhabiting the book surged around her for a moment before she felt alone again.