Hello, friends! I'll get right into things:

1. This book is based on The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern

2. Disclaimer: I don't own this book and I am not Erin Morgenstern


I'm not exactly sure what this is. It's a work in progress; it currently 12.15am, I'm on the floor of my bedroom on my phone and I have to wake up soon.

So far, it's a collection of different POVs from throughout the story.

If any of ya'll know how to publish this somewhere other than misc books? Because I can't find a specific section for this book and I would like to start one, but don't know how. If you could PM me about that it would be so helpful... :))

Without further ado...


One thing about having the Second Sight is they never tell you, is how unprepared you are. You know the future; have seen the dozens of possibilities weave in and out of each other, creating a tangled web few ungifted can read. You know it as well as you know your face in the mirror. Personally, I regard mirrors with a contempt I reserve for a special few. But that is of no consequence now.

Anyways. You know the future; and yet you are never prepared for what you know will come.

I was baking when my son died in a place will never again exist. Honey lemon cookies of the type that Kat brings on her increasingly frequent visits. Turns out that I have a fondness for her – and her cookies. My son died; my Zach died. I could almost sense his life force fading out of him. And yet I kept backing despite my shaking hands, clinging onto a hope that has been worn thin from the number of times I've turned to it: My son will come back, because I have yet to meet his husband.

As the cookies were baking, I went out into the night, the cold air a biting respite from the steamy kitchen and akin to my numb emotions. The stars were beautiful; I have always been told that you can see the faces of your lost ones in the sky. I have never believed that. I believe a lot of things, but not that. Instead of faces, or indeed the Orion or Little Dipper, I see the Weaver. The strange mistress of Time and Fate, watching over both with a careful eye, recording the goings on her loom. Every strand as fine as a hair, ever changing, being woven and tied without rest; the Weaver is also known to some as Life's Librarian. Occasionally, she drops a strand of Happenings. Those unrecorded happenings have many names. Some call it Déja Vu. Some call it God. To others, it's a shooting star. But to Seers, it's a reflection. Reflections of Time and Fate, paths taken and untaken. When you see a strand from the Weaver's Loom, if you know what you're doing, you can change the past. But changing the past means changing everything. The Butterfly Effect is a wonderous idea – until it works against you. I saw a strand falling through the sky tonight, with my cookies baking and my son dead.

It can't be a coincidence.

I called Kat tonight. Invited her over. Voicemail, as always. Well, as has happened for the past few weeks. She went to Canada, I knew that. A few days after she left, I got a call (I was her emergency contact.) Her car was found outside an abandoned building. She hasn't been seen in seventeen days. I hope she's found my son. I hope she found him alive and well. I hope I'm wrong. Even if she hasn't. I'm glad she found the Harbour.

I'm glad she turned the doorknob I turned away from so long ago.

That's all I've got so far! Tell me what you guys think...