A/N: Nadine writing her story is in italics. Chapter one was revised a little. I still haven't edited much, but I'm trying just to write it all first. I'm not sure exactly how I should do this, like should I have it in third person and put in some of her writings just to give some background--and for that matter should I have her be writing them or them just there?

I'm going to be throwing the guy in as soon as I can considering how short my postings are.

Oh yeh, and Nadine doesn't know her real name. She named herself Nadine one day because of its meaning. I'll throw that in later.

Please tell me how I'm doing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Chapter 1

Nadine woke up in her room not feeling at all refreshed. Last night she had started writing about what was happening. Not that she really knew. It wasn't easy for her to come up with what to say because it all sounded boring to her. She wasted all the light just trying to think of what else she could write. Deciding that there was nothing better to do than to get up, she walked over to the window as she had every day for some time now. Her eyes were closed and fingers crossed as she murmured, "let it be a dream," over and over again. Eyes opened and the same scene was revealed.

"Oh well. It was worth a shot; even if it seems stupid. Hm… I wonder what I should write. Maybe I could go sit by the fountain. It is the fountain of luck, after all." Nadine picked up a random pair of clothes from the floor—she didn't have a dresser and couldn't be bothered to hang them up—and put them on quickly. In a few moments she was beside the fountain.

"The only thing missing here is birds singing," she whispered. Sitting slowly down as though there were birds on her she leaned back against the fountain. "Whoever said silence is golden was mad. Silence can drive someone crazy, just because nothing is really ever silent and you know that even sitting there hearing your 'nothing.'" Shaking her head, Nadine said the same thing she had being saying everyday that she could remember, "It has driven me mad. I'm talking to myself. I'd give anything for human company. There has to be other humans! There just has to be!"

But no one answered. No one ever did. The only thing staring back at her was just that: a thing. A book of tear stained paper. A book of empty pages as empty as her life with just a little bit of black ink decoration.

"I might as well write," Nadine thought to herself. She wasn't going to talk out loud until she could trust her voice, or until she had to speak just to make sure her ears worked. "But what to write about?" she silently asked herself. Leaning her head back her hair touched the water, giving her an idea.

Fountain of Luck and my tangents

Out in the gardens there is a fountain. It has a small inscription that I have read many times over. It says that this is the fountain of luck. Not of good luck, not of bad luck, just of luck. Sometimes I go to it hoping that my luck will change. It never has. On special days the water in the fountain changes color. I haven't figured out what special days since I wouldn't really know the meaning of the days anyway. I've only seen it eight times so in the beginning I thought that maybe on my third time something would happen, because in all the books I've read three is a magical number. The only thing that happened was that I found a weird round piece of metal that said one cent. I think it is what the books called money. I carry it with me everywhere now.

Another strange thing is that even when there are animals none of them will ever come near the fountain. And last, but not least, the fountain itself makes no noise at all. It is completely silent.

I'm sorry if you where expecting some thing of all the things I've done. Mostly I got up, changed, ate, got a book and picnic supplies, went outside and read the book while eating the picnic, came in, ate, and then went to bed. If any animals came I would spend the whole day with them. But after the first time I slept outside I never did it again. Somehow I woke up inside and I had a strange dream that someone carried me, but I had no desire to meet this someone. You would think I would break a leg to get a chance to meet someone—and I would—but I had the feeling that it wasn't right. Like it was a dream projection to try and keep me happy so that I didn't fight whatever was carrying me. I've considered sometimes that it might have been a bear.

By now you might have realized that I can get off topic easily. But I have all the time in the world and more. And when I get on a role I see no reason to stop. You'll hear it all in time.

But I don't know why you want to. It isn't as interesting as I thought it would be. A woman trapped on the Manor's ground and Manor's building—Manor's manor seems to repetitive to me. I guess I'm writing more to give me something to do… a purpose you could say. I don't have a purpose. I don't have to do anything. I'm not needed. I'm not loved. I'm not known. Am I even real????????????????????