Courtney Durham

It Was Magical

My thoughts have always been a jumbled mess. I love to write, but my ideas aren't always fluid or concise. I was seventeen when we moved into our new home. It was a creepy Victorian full of spooky corners. The floorboards creaked, and thick layers of paint sealed the windowsills shut. Renovation was needed. In an old desk, in the basement, I found it—my little black book.