Today was the day I had to move out of the old apartment. But I didn't want to, I had grown up here, while I was lost in my thoughts I heard a voice from the other room.
"Have you packed your bags yet?" my mother asked from the other room.
"Yes, I just have to put them in the boxes," I replied.

She didn't answer me, and I was already really starting to pack my bags, because soon we had to load them into the car.
About an hour passed, and everything was packed and ready by the door. I didn't feel like leaving, I had so many good moments here.

We were already on our way to our new home. Along the way, it was interesting mostly when you are a writer in your teenage years. You imagine each tree in an interesting way. After the two hour reflections, we were already standing in front of a rather old house.

My father pushed me away from the door to unlock it. As soon as the door opened, I was hit by the scent of coziness. I rushed inside, and the first thing I saw was the old living room and the huge bookshelf behind the sofa.

I was sitting on the bed, just reading, and after about an hour, the sun outside was already setting behind the trees, and I had finished my book. It was time to unpack my suitcase and organize everything on the shelves and in the cabinets. I opened the first box and started taking things out and arranging them, box after box, until everything was on the shelves. I had arranged everything carefully and beautifully.

Two days later:

 Today was our second day in our new home. I woke up quite early in the morning and went down to the kitchen, because even though it was only 8:00, my dad was already in the kitchen. He was making pancakes and greeted me with the words:

Come on, sit at the table to eat!” - said my father with a smile on his face. I sat down and spread some of my father’s delicious pancakes. After that, I went to the living room as I wanted to look through the library. I was already in the living room and sat in front of the huge. The shelves were full of different books. But a few caught my attention. One was called. I reached for one, and on the other side, something rustled. I hesitated for a moment but didn’t see anything. I put the two books back and left. I stood at my desk, leaving them aside, but I took one notebook and sat down to read the books.

I opened the first page and started reading. I hesitated for a moment. There were no letters, only a few lines and symbols. Even when I flipped the next page, the same thing—it was as if everything was written in code. After a while of reading, I put the notebook down and started examining the book. I flipped through several pages and suddenly saw something strange in one of the illustrations. I went to the attic to check if it was the same. Upstairs, it was dusty and a bit empty. I quickly examined the pages, hearing noises as if something was moving. I was startled and felt uneasy. The book was much older than the others. After a long search, I found a small box. I carefully opened it. Inside was an old notebook, a small drawer with a sign, and a key. On the bottom, something was scribbled. Everything suddenly went dark when I closed the wooden door.