/lit/ - Literature

Hey guys been planning out a novel for a bit and started writing today would appreciate any thoughts on my introduction

To the reader who finds this letter, I hope you’re having a better day than mine. Has it been only a day? Was it just this morning that I stumbled into this place? Without a clock, without the sun, who could tell you the time? Sometimes a minute feels like an eternity. Sometimes the days fly by and you hardly remember them. Time’s hard enough to untangle normally. And in here? I think it moves differently. Everything does, here inside. You can never find the room you were just in, never figure out where you’re going. Sorry, but you’re probably still less confused than I am at this point. Let me back up a bit.

My name is Claire. Long as I can remember, I’ve lived in a lonely little town that maybe the rest of the world just forgot. A place I won’t name, as it may not be somewhere anybody should find. Not that it would be easy. Nothing but forest, miles on miles – I think we all decided it wasn’t worth the trouble of leaving. And we weren’t unhappy, there were good times, laughter. But in the end the days kind of ran together, like the wrong colors of paint. Looking back, maybe we always knew something was wrong. Couldn’t have told you in words, but we might have said it in a look. In the silence, when conversation ran out. Our home had no definition. You finished that last day of school, what next? We walked off that stage like actors, finished with the act. No more semesters, finals – life was harder to measure. How much time passed, between then and now? I’d grown, sure, you could see it in a picture. But I was like a plant in the dark, not knowing the direction. In a picture, though, there was a way to measure it, I thought. To catch some of that time, like butterflies in a jar, before it all fluttered away. I walked out the store queen of the world, new camera box, feeling like I had the answer. Pandora’s box, more like it. All the questions I was about to unleash.