Cordelia's Journal
January 16, 2016.
There's this place in my dream, an old town surrounded by towering stone walls that stood like an ancient sentinel, guarding what's beyond its path. It was shrouded in mystery — unreal and unchanging, like a place forgotten by time. And far beyond the town, there is a dark forest beneath a thick, grayish fog where a melancholic melody lures me like a beacon. Rather than a dream, it feels like the place was a distant memory and every time it haunts me there are these waves of emotions — cold, lonely, and suffocating, that would make my heart ache, as if a thousand needles were piercing through it.
Ever since winter began, these dreams have grown more frequent. So frequent, in fact, that I started searching for answers.. Today, I went to the local library. It was Saturday, so it was packed. Last week, I tried the travel section and this time, I wandered into history. The shelves are filled with old and new books, each preserving a past that should never be forgotten. I started at the far left and scanned every page, looking for an illustration or a word that ties to the stone town, however, after searching through a part of the shelf I found nothing related to it.
What if the place doesn't really exist?
Was it just a product of my frustration? Because I can't paint anything for two years now that I started hallucinating about an imaginary place?
Maybe, I was…
In reality, I wanted that place to be real. I want to paint it too… to capture its ancient beauty and preserve it in a small frame.
Sulking, I went to sit at the corner and started sketching the stone town inside my sketchpad until this old man came at me with a polite smile. Judging by his clothes, I immediately knew that he is a professor from the university just across the library. He pointed at my sketch and asked if I knew what it was. I said no and somehow found a ray of hope when he mentioned its name.
"Stoneveil." He sat down, his eyes never leaving the paper. "It is an old town in Dartmoor. "
Stoneveil. I repeated the name, and a strange familiarity surged through me, like I'd said it many times before.
He asked if I was researching it. I told him the truth: I'm a painter, and I want to see it in person so I can capture every detail. I left out the part about the dreams. About how it feels like the town is calling me… begging me to come and be swallowed by its mystery. In this modern world, such words would make me sound insane.
I asked how to get there, and with gusto he wrote down the direction of the place. It was 6 hours away from the city, a long drive, but it doesn't matter to me anymore. I will find out why the Stoneveil keeps on haunting me like a ghost.
I wonder what's in it…What mystery lies beyond its dark forest.
When I got home, the first thing I did was gather my things: painting materials, a large canvas, my sketchpad, and a set of pencils. I packed a backpack with two dresses, some biscuits, and a wad of cash, just in case. I loaded everything into the trunk of my old green Mini Cooper.
I wasn't sure if this baby would survive the journey. I bet it'll give up before I even get there. The car was handed down from my grandmother, and somehow it still runs—thanks to my grandfather, who restored it countless times. Aside from the two-story house with its small, beautiful garden, this car is the only thing my grandparents left me. I never considered getting rid of it. It's their last gift.
So I didn't wait for morning. I set out, hoping to arrive before midnight. The car roared to life, and I drove through the highway, stopping every hour or two at nearby convenience stores. After passing two gas stations, the road grew rough and isolated. Trees lined either side like walls, casting dark shadows across the eerie path.
I admit. I considered turning around, however, the professor advised me to not stop.
"The road may be dark but at the end of that path is what you are longing for."
So I pressed on. Two more hours passed before I saw a light in the distance. My excitement surged. Stoneveil was near. But just as quickly, it vanished. The car broke down.
It broke down right at the end of the road! What a coincidence!
I stepped out and saw a short wooden bridge leading to the town's entrance. I don't remember what expression I wore, only the feeling. Looking up, I saw the massive stone walls, mottled with moss and tangled with creeping vines, that protected the town within. Gargantuan. Ancient. Frightening. This wall wasn't just a fortress. It was a deterrent, built to keep the world out.
The huge, wooden gate was slightly open so I went in and from inside two guards flanked the entrance, motionless as statues. Their armor was old, an iron dulled by time, etched with scratches and rust. The spear they held upright where the tip was still sharp enough to warn.
Helmets obscured their faces, save for their eyes.
The guards glanced at me as if recognizing something they long stopped questioning, they simply let me pass.
Confused. I still walked further and inside, the town was dimly lit. The moonlight had long cast dark shadows across the cobbled streets. I looked around. The houses were really made of stone, old but sturdy, the roofs layered with thatch and some sagging under the weight of years. It was amazing to see how old and ancient the houses look. No paint, no metal, nor glass windows. Just stone and woods…
And the air smelled of damp earth and old smoke. A few elderly walked the street, and their eyes lingered on me, not of curiosity, but of polite recognition. I smiled back at them and one old woman wearing a wool shawl pointed at the forest beyond.
"He's waiting." She mouthed.
Taken aback. I did not know what to say at that time.
Who's waiting? Do they know me?
Is this some kind of prank?
Though scared, curiosity still won. I wanted to know why this place haunts me in my dreams, calling me… As if begging me to come back.
Does this place have some connection with me or my family?
Everything felt surreal. The moment I stepped past that stone wall, it was as if I'd walked into the past. This place was old. Nostalgic. And even though fear lingered in my heart, I chose to uncover what lay beyond the dark forest.
So I let myself be swallowed by the fog.