The Reason.

“Year 1980, Feb 1

The colors of this morning resembled a burning orange of a bonfire with a hint of a delicate pink, the sky blushing with the first light of dawn. It painted the world in soft hues, casting a warm, gentle glow over the sleeping village nestled in the valley. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers and the promise of a new day.

The tops of the mountains weren't visible, as if they wore a crown of clouds and fog, adding a touch of mystery to the serene landscape. The village is the best place to spend your winters, with its picturesque charm and tranquil beauty. Everything is foggy, the thick mist enveloping the houses and trees, creating a surreal, dreamlike atmosphere.

As the sun slowly rose, the pink tones deepened, blending with shades of gold and orange. The village began to stir, its inhabitants waking to the tranquil beauty of the morning. The fields, still dusted with a light frost, sparkled in the early light, and the rooftops glistened with dew.

The people here are hardworking and helpful, always ready to lend a hand. They are hospitable and caring, welcoming strangers with warm smiles and open hearts. Birds began to sing, their melodies weaving through the cool air, adding a harmonious soundtrack to the picturesque scene. The peacefulness of the morning was almost tangible, wrapping the village in a comforting embrace, as if time itself had slowed to savor the moment.

For those who paused to admire it, this pink-hued dawn seemed to hold a certain magic, a promise of hope and serenity that would linger in their hearts long after the sun had fully risen.

And I am really happy to say that I belong here.”

Said the very first page of the diary, that had seen the dust of time. Its pages were mostly torn and crumbled, the edges ragged and yellowed with age. Each page whispered tales of the past, the ink faded, but the words still legible, preserving the memories of a time long gone. The cover, once a rich and supple leather, was now worn and cracked, bearing the scars of years of handling and neglect. Yet, it retained a certain majesty, adorned with a carved lion's face that seemed to gaze out with timeless wisdom and silent strength.

The lion’s face, intricately detailed, was both fierce and noble, its eyes appearing almost lifelike, as if it watched over the contents of the diary with a guardian’s vigilance. The leather was smooth in some places, rough in others, hinting at the countless hands that had held it, the stories it had witnessed, and the secrets it had kept. The diary exuded an aura of mystery and reverence, a relic of a bygone era, holding within its fragile pages the essence of lives lived and moments treasured.

“Hey Carter... Carter, can you hear me?” Rita's voice rang out, sharp and urgent.

“Yes, Rita, I can hear you. Can you please quit screaming and tone it down?” Carter replied, his voice soft and calming, trying to ease her agitation.

Carter sat at a sturdy, old study table, the wood polished smooth by years of use. His hands loosely held the weathered diary, fingers gently brushing over the crumbled edges of the pages. Sunlight streamed through the large window, filling the room with a warm, golden glow. Dust particles danced lazily in the beams of light, adding a touch of ethereal beauty to the scene.

With a careful hand, Carter turned the page, the faint rustling sound almost like a whisper from the past. He leaned back in his chair, the soft creak of the wood echoing in the quiet room. Outside, the day was bright and inviting, but inside, Carter was enveloped in the intimate, timeless world of the diary.

“Why are you here? Let's go, to the mall. Everyone's been waiting for us there. They planned a movie too,” informed Rita, her excitement bubbling over.

“Can you please not be so excited about the movie thing? It's not your first time going to a movie, is it?” Carter asked, taunting her with a playful smirk.

Rita rolled her eyes, her enthusiasm undimmed. “Oh, come on, Carter. It's not about the movie; it's about spending time together. Plus, it's a new release!”

Carter sighed, closing the diary with a gentle snap. “Alright, alright. Give me a minute to get ready,” he said, standing up from the study table. He cast one last glance at the old, weathered diary, feeling a pang of reluctance to leave its mysteries behind.

Rita beamed, already half out the door. “Hurry up, slowpoke! You don't want to miss the previews, do you?”

Carter chuckled, shaking his head as he followed her. “You and your previews...” He grabbed his jacket, the sunlight still pouring through the window, casting long shadows in the room.

                                                                                 ********

“Why are you always neck deep in your books?” asked Rita, her voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and exasperation.

“Oh, these,” Carter replied with a fond smile, gently patting the diary in his hand. “They are my best friends. And they talk to me. So, I like talking to them.”

Rita raised an eyebrow, her expression softening. “Your best friends, huh? Sounds a bit lonely.”

Carter shrugged, his eyes drifting back to the diary for a moment. “Not really. Each book has a story, a voice. They share their secrets with me, their dreams and fears. It’s like stepping into another world.”

Rita sighed, shaking her head with a small smile. “You and your books. Well, come on, bookworm. Let’s give your friends a break for a while and go have some fun.”

Carter chuckled, closing the diary with a gentle snap. “Alright, alright. Lead the way, Rita.”

As they left the room, the sunlight continued to bathe the space in a warm glow, the diary lying quietly on the study table, waiting for Carter’s return.

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