I appologize for the crappy begining , I have major writer's block. This is just somethign that I am hoping will get me out of it. Reviews would be greatly appreciated. But also I need specific feedback , especially on the little excerpts from the book. They were not written by me but a freind and she definelty needs the reviews. Dont hold back but dont be too harsh , I personally think she is great at writing but she doesnt. The whole story was originaly started for the sole purpose of putting her stuff up becuase she didnt want just her stuff up here only. lol , thank you and please review!

chapter 1

" Well you dont look like shit at all."

"Shut up Page. Shut up." When I woke up the sun didnt filter in like it normal would have so I was in a hurry to get to class after seeing the stupid red numbers.

" No , not grumpy at all either." she snickered.

" Fuck you , you know that? Not all of us have been shit-faced before...you could have at least warned me. I mean really , what kind of friend spikes your drink?" last night had been my first "official" collage party.

" You looked like you could use some loosening up. I was doing you a favor, Id do it again too." cocky little thing.

I took my bag that was slung over my shoulder and set it down on one of the steps of the stairs , Page got up from her seat next to me. While we waited for Proffesor Ver'te Page sat back and enjoyed the fact that we were the only two girls in the class.

"10 , 8 , 10 , 7...eww 3...definetly a 100!" she sized up all the guys as they passed .

" Can you really not? Your worse than a guy sometimes degrading and quite frankly a little creepy. Epecially when you just rated our teacher." I sighed.

Page just laughed and continued with her little game.

It didnt help that to be honest she was completely right about Mr. V , and he wasnt the 3 either. He got up and took his coat off from the shoulders of his chair . Mr.V was a tall but somewhat lanky 30 something year old hunk. I mean true eye candy. Its a wonder that there arent more girls in this class. His hair came about to the end of his ears , alittle shaggy it fell into blonde waves. his eyes were a striking blue that contrasted with his almost brown skin. Page had never been one for the darker skin colors but even she couldnt help but fall to the young Proffesors charm. He pulled his jacket on and grabbed his briefcase that had been hidden under the desk. He sat on the edge of his desk and answered a couple of questions from some of the students.

"Hey , Im gonna go ask Mr.V about the assignment." page took off without letting me even get a word in. Ya... the assingment. uh-huh. of course.

Not that I really cared , I wasnt about to go pining after a married teacher...with 3 kids. Not my type.

SIince my car was still in an auto shop I had to take a bus to the beach. Bag in hand I flagged down a bus that was pulling out of the stop seconds before. It was a good thing I lived in a little town or else I'd never have gotten the bus to stop. I payed the fare and found a seat in the back. Pulling out my headphones and book I sat down on the empty bench. It was 45 minutes give or take to get to the beach from campus. I found a small cove behind a couple of rocks and an old willow.

The ride was shorter than I had anticipated due to the lack of people on the bus. I stepped off tipping my head to the driver who smiled widely back at me. I kept the book close to my side , it was starting to rain and I didnt want to get the ink ruined.

Mr. V's last assignment was to find a book , or a series of letters , journal entries , any type of clips , but they have to be by the same person , and to read and analyze it. We had to write a paper on it. itsnot due for another month or so but still , it wasnt something you could wait until the last minute to do.

Pushing back some of the moss that grew from the willow I turned to look and see if there was anyone but me around. Becuase of the rain I seemed to be the only one here but I didnt want to chance getting caught. So far there was no one else that I knew that knew about my little spot. Id like to keep it that way , it might have to do with the fact there was an old "Warning: Danger , Keep Out" sign outside of the rocks. But that was so beat up it was almost unrecognizable now so it didtn count.

Despite the fact that my head felt like it was about to explode it was an nice day outside. Nice in my terms anyway. I loved the rain and I loved the was nothing that made me happier , literaly. I was a wierd child. Its not my fault. The rain began to beat harder down on the pavement. Quickly but carefully I rushed inside the saftey of the cove. I smiled to myself as I watched the rain fall and the air fogg. A small shiver ran up and down my spine teasing the crown of my head.

I walked further inside the cove trying to find a perfect spot to sit and read , the light was soft but enough to read with. I found a small but smooth rock and sat indian style ontop of it. I took my jacket from over my arm and slipped my hands through it from the front with the book in my lap.

The book was one of those older style ones, leather with a celtic design on the front back and sides. The front had a quarter sized button of gold with a square and some celtic circles engraved into it. From the back a leather cord came around and tied around the knob like button to secure the book closed. It was a deep forest green that was almost black.I found it about a week ago in the old library that I usually went to read at. Id tripped over the thing 20 times before I finally decided to take it home with me. It was really freaky actually. Id alwasy trip over it , or it would always fall down off one of the shelves , Id take it to old man Jenkins and Id see him put it away , but I always wound up with it hitting me some how.

Old man Jenkins only laughed everytime I brought it back. One day I finally asked him why he would laugh when I brought it to him. He said " It seems the book has a fancy for pretty ladies." That's it . What the fuck that was suppposed to mean was beyond me , but the man was probobly senile. For all I knew he was some ex-ax murderer that was never caught. I carefully untied the string from around the small golden knob , gentley I opened the book and thumbed through some pages. There wasnt just one type of handwriting , it was filled with diffrent styles and inks. Some things made no sense at all. Some things were to hard to read , the shaking or just plain chicken scratch made my eyes seem to tango in thier sockets.

I found a promising entry but unfortunatly without a date on it. the ink was in green a deep rich forest color that looked almost blac just like the outside of the book itself. The entry ddint seem to hold much meaning , just a random tidbit type thing.

There are to those who know about it, an entire artisan village all along the drive of the twisting & winding mt. roads - the backroads thru Gatlinburg, houses dotting the mountainous uneven landscape, the road, almost frightening at times, deep in the mountains, sometimes jutting towards the edge of the mountain passes, over tops & peaks, winding furiously at times, moments where you are scared to death to look down over the edge, other moments where it is soo scenic & calmly slowly winding over hills, easy enough to drive thru, small old buildings & sometimes new ones, scattered here & there all along the pathway, with shops & stores full of handiwork & crafts & all sort of things to buy, quilts, woven baskets, wooden birdhouses, Indian clothing & goods, apple cidar & if you know where to look, Indian wolf pups for sale, yes that's right! The road, always beautiful, always pretty, always scenic, what a view! One lane each way, that's all. Trees with enormous branches reaching out over the road as if to try to touch your car, small waterways, streams, creeks, waterfalls, mountain sidewalls, moss, rocks, cat tails & other grasses growing tall & wildflowers. Looking very different in winter, the sound of trickle & a far off, distant 'rushing water sound' , with bare trees showing the full force of the mountains & their strength! Summer, bright & green, alive with birds chirping & sounds of rushing waterfalls & creeks. Butterflies a flutter from wildflower to wildflower. Ahhh,.,.....another version of home. The streets of Gatlinburg, the Little Pigeon Creek which runs right thru town along, a part of the Pigeon Forge River, that's how Pigeon Forge got it's name, because of the metal forge built along the river when settlers originally came into Cherokee country there, they so named it Pigeon due to the pigeons which would forrage along the banks of the river just outside of the forge & nearby mill. The mill still functions today, imagine that.

sha-cona-ge, as the Cherokee then called it, Land of the Blue Mist. The Smoky Mountains.

Jonesborough with it's cobblestone streets, historic buildings from times long forgotten & lost. The front porches, wooden floors, gingerbread decorating them all. Huge windows, The half barrels used as pansy & viola planters in bloom even in midwinter. Their cheerful faces smiling back at you as you walk thru. I hve a handful of them pressed in a book from some years back. While walking down these streets, it seems to me, especially in an early winter morning when there is little foot traffic or waggon traffic for that matter, that I have stepped back in time, into a place over a hundred years ago, to a day where there are horse drawn carraiges . The names of the places, apothicary, ice cream shoppe, historical hotel & saloon, these all add to the moment. My favorite is , when standing at the steps of main street, looking up & slightly to your left, there it is......The Salt House, yes, it's probably my absolute favorite building in use in Down Town Historic Jonesborough, TN. You walk up the steep hill, over the small stream & bridge alwasy full of beautiful mallard ducks, not the lumpy faced, speckled muskogee ducks , but real wild mallards, shinning emerald green in their feathers as the light catches them just right, or the other wild brown ducks we see only in pictures, with rings around their necks, the ducks quacking & eating, swimming. You keep on walking, more steep is the hill before you arrive.

Then there it is, in all it's antique charm & beauty, The salt house. Once someone's home, once a house for salt storage looking out upon the still functioning railroad which goes through Jonesborough through Telford, all the way past Telford Station as you can see it from the top of Grandpa's drive, from the top of the hill, it would be straight down and far out, there it goes, with it's blasting sound, & constant rhythmic chug-a chug until it disappears from sight. Telford Station was a battle ground in the Civil War, the battle for Telford station. You can find letters from the Civil war time, writen by hand by soldiers to their captains & from their spies along the routes. Interesting! Fascinating! But, where was I before I got lost about the train, oh, yes, the train tracks just outside the salt house & the salt house itself, its old, thick hardwood floors & staircase & banister. The upstairs windows overlooking the town & the train tracks. I love to go in there on occassion, all the while pretending mentally, in my own quiet & secret little game, that I am from the royalty long before, that I must be wearing a long dress & button up shoes, my hair long, a broach pinned against my neckline of the blouse or dresstop, a shawl stung over my shoulders, perhaps gloves dressing my hands, a drawstring coinpurse, awaiting the mail to arrive, a letter something rare & special, treasured, writen in fountain or dip pen, sealed in wax, or perhaps it's almost daylight or just after dusk, I carry my lantern in one hand, holding up my long skirt or dress sos's not to trip while taking the steps of the stairs, & I casually walk up the stairs, then around to each window, watching the white lace curtains sloftly billow in the light breeze when the windows are crakced a bit open. I stare out them, each of them, just for a minute, watching what you would see, from them, each view - what would it have shown me almost 200 years ago? I can see the horse carraiges & parisol umbrellas, the wagons & horse & donkey as well, I can hear the slight busstle of the city awakening in morning or perhaps the calm of settling in at night. Not like the noisey car infused bustle of today though. Yesteryear. Long ago.

Then I walk back downstairs, hearing, feeling each step I take on the hard wood, the clunking creaking sound each step makes, the feel of the polished wood with it's dents & chips in it, of the banister under my hand as I glide down each step. Imagining it all, then making the rounds all the way around the inside to the windows of the 1st floor, too bad most of them are covered up by racks & displays of antiques. Seeing the washbowls & pitchers, makes me think again, I must be in a different time. Then out into the bright sunlight I step, onto the street where I see the Cranberry Thistle, at least that's what it's called today, a resturaunt down the block, I wonder what it was called back then, soo long ago. I go back down the steep hill, over the tracks, the small creek, stopping just long enough to see the ducks for a moment, down towards Main Street, turning to the left as I step onto the cobblestones of Main St. I keep walking, still day dreaming as I go, towards the 1st abolitionists news paper , a tiny worn cabin on my right well down the street soem ways after the famous Chester Inn. Continue walking either side of the street now, the historic houses, many still lived in today. I can see hollyhocks in spring, flowering bulbs, smell the scents in the air. Now if I were to go back the other way, starting where I'd turned left on Main, if I go right, I will go around towards Jonesborough library, small, & quaint with weeping willows draping across the way. Flowers, a bridge you can walk across to go over the next stop in the pathway of that shallow, small stream. More river rocks lining it & more ducks. But still, I like the walk in the other direction best.. All the old houses & the historic Chester Inn, now a store front & part of the storytelling association. It was once a saloon & Inn. Two stories tall right there on Main Street. what it must have been like in all the glory of such a time period.

A thunder clap boomed out of no where making me jump , pulling out of my little zone I nearly balked when I saw it was dark outside. I could barley see a thing , I lifted up off of the rock and tried to get my footing. I couldnt even see my hand that I put out in front of my face. I had no idea in which direction I was a going but i felt my way around the cavern. How could I have been so late in getting home? How did I completely drift off like that? I hadnt even read that much either. I sighed but continued to crawl throught the rock.

A shed of light came through in the back...or the front of the cove. I started crawling towards it when I heard a wierd grumbling sound. I stopped for a second but didnt hear the noise. The rocks began to get steeper and you could feel the diffrence in the air , the floor was lined with rock everywhere I touched. They got sharper and bigger as I got closer to the hands brushed against something sharp nicking my finger. I hissed brigning my hand up to my eyes. I stuck my finger in my mouth to slow the bleeding and to stop the sting. Once my finger started turning numb I carefully placed my hand back donw on the floor carefull not to touch my finer to anything else in case I got it dirty but instead I tripped abit and my whole hand was sliced open by something. I cried out falling alittle scraping my arm and stomach on the cold hard ground. I tried lifting my hand up to see the damage Id done didnt do much because I could barley see anything but it was easier to make out the shape of my hand but nothing more. Something moved in the shadows , I barley saw it from the corner of my eye.I felt my eyebrows scruntch up as I tried to find its shape was probobly nothing , probobly just another big rock or something but I could have swarn I saw it move.

My eyes widened when a huge towering shape lifted itself from in front of me. My breathing sped up and my mouth hung open , my heart feels like its going a thousand miles a minute. It was huge , about 7 feet tall and it filled almost every knook and cranny from what I could tell. I scrambled to my feet lest i get stepped on and die that way. What the fuck? What is it? Small red beady eyes glared back at I wanted to do was scream , to run something , but for soem reason my body wouldnt move , wouldnt follow any of my commands. A small whimper crept its way out of my throat. The creature seemed to leer at me , probobly thinking my fear was an amusment. My whole persona was off due to the alchohol making its way out of my body and it wasnt making this situation any better. My brain was slower and more like woah dude from the hits I'd taken due to my drunken state.

I was about to move , I dont know where , or what I was planning but I began moving towards the light I could barley see when the creature...fell? He fell but slid on his stomach out towards the light. He was being dragged , a roar was let out from the animals lungs. He was jerked out from the cavern , there was the opening right there , awaiting me. I didnt waste any time , I scrambled to my feet not bothering with my bad hand , just thinking about getting out of head was spinning and I felt like I was going to pass out any minute.

My stomach was sticky with blood and my arms and clothes looked like Id been through hell and back. The light was almost blinding , my clothes were torn and ripped. My tanktop was ripped across completely revieling a huge gash across my stomach. My jacket was still in tact for the most part thank god. My shorts [which page had so conveniently put me in] were so short that I felt naked , the only thing that was in the least modest on me was both my converse and my black volcom zip up jacket.

"You there , come here!" a deep voice boomed , I freaked and made a mad dash for the forest , it looked the same as the willows surrounding the cove on the outside by the beach ,I ran toward the water were I would be able to see what was what. When I got there I realized I had made a istake in assuming that it was the same place Id come from.

The water was a cliff. A dead end , and I had almost taken the jump.

Okay so tell me what you think. Remeber that I want to know mostly about the italicsized writing too. Im actually alittle excited for this story now. Its is by no means my 1st written but definetly my 1st posted , I was meaning to post a diffrent story 1st and still plan on doing so very soon. Reviews are definelty appreciated.