*2026 Update - I'm currently in the process of editing this story as my writing style has improved so much over the past year, so the writing will probably seem very inconsistant throughout the novel until I've edited the entire thing. I hope its not too much of an issue, and hopefully the story will sound a lot better than in the first draft (because I will admit that I've read some of the sentences back and phyiscally cringed). Let me know in the comments if you notice anything that needs to be fixed, such as grammar and punctuation mistakes, plot holes, or any sentences that feel chunky or don't flow right. Feedback is greatly appreciated. *

Life is a journey. In fact, it's something many people try to compare to the chapters of a book – each chapter of your life recognises a new opportunity, cool achievement, or a fresh start. I would disagree. Life and chapters are two entirely different things. Chapters are disconnected from eachother by numbers and page gaps, and can be easily forgotten about in the business of extistance itself.

Life, on the other hand, is messy and unpredictable, something that cannot be pushed to the side to continue on a later date. I'd compare life to the interwoven conectiveness of a tapestry. It seems to keep flowing, with nothing seperating each segment apart from the caress of gentle fingertips and the pierce of a needle. 

One changed decision and one mistake can change its entire direction, going from beautifult to ugly in a second.  People admire and judge it simultaneously, questioning its meaning and purpose whilst staring with wide, intrigued eyes.

There are many things that can be learnt in life, similar to the stories of battle and love that can be seen woven permanently into these thick threads tied with blood and sweat. 

When I was sixteen, I got forced into a world of magic and mystery, similar to the wonderful sense of discovery one may feel when finding a tapestry buried under centuries of dust and neglect.

Does the tapestry feel how I did, lost and betrayed in a world I should have belonged to my whole life? Did it feel stolen from opportunities? Did it feel like it’s stories where forgotten and misinterpreted? Did it feel like it had simply been placed into the unforgiving hands of a careless stranger?

Questions were another thing storybooks can't relate too, with every question and every loop hole often answered and completed in the end, tying together the novel with a bow. Anyting else can be answered by an author or conjured in the head of a reader.

Life isn't like this. 

When I found out about this strange, mysterious world, millions of questions seemed to unveil from the darkness. However, it wasn't as though I could simply ask my creator or rely on my own imagination to save me from the Earth surely crumbling beneath my unsteady feet.

If my mum knew what I'd uncovered, she'd surely kill me. My best friend wasn't allowed to know. My dad was dead. Even my boyfriend – the one who protected my from unfamiliar dangers and revealed new secrets – didn’t have all the answers. I was going to have to find them out myself.

Whether during life or death, I would find out eventually.

The only thing I knew for sure are that plot-twists aren’t only things you see in books and movies: they appear at every waking hour, hiding behind thick fog, revealing itself from the darkest depths of ones mind, or stabbing you in the back with a jagged dagger.

They aren’t something you can control or predict. You can’t write their existence on a calendar and plan around them.

No. You can only work through them.  

If I was going to survive this little adventure, I was going to need to watch my back. I was going to need to watch for the plot-twists, betrayal, neglect, and questions that threatened to tear my once perfect life apart.