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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you all for the amazing reviews! I am somewhat blown away by the reaction from here - thank you so much!
Thank you for all the reviews! It means so much to me that you all are enjoying reading this story as much as I am writing it!

Chapter 4:

 
The next morning, William rose just shortly after dawn to see if there was a new entry from his mysterious stranger in the enchanted journal.

Enchanted.

That's what it must be, William was almost certain. After all, he continuously felt that odd sensation whenever he touched the journal. And how else could the barrier of time be breached and he be able to communicate with someone living in the year 2004?

It just had to be magic; there weren't any other possibilities that made sense.

William quickly opened the journal and turned a couple pages ahead. He smiled and could barely control his excitement when he saw a response in that strange handwriting taking up not one, but several pages.

 
September 21, 2004

Dear William,

Gosh this is just so bizarre, borderline insane - I'm writing this to someone, someone who lived over 100 years ago in the past. My friends are going to think I've gone completely off my rocker and commit me to the crazy house.

 
Although he wasn't clear on what some of her words meant, William was certain that he felt the exact same way.

 
Anyway, I suppose I should return the gesture of making an introduction. My name is Elizabeth Anne Summers, but everyone calls me Buffy - a childhood nickname that stuck. I live in Sunnydale, California - that's in the United States (I know you guys have the US all set up, but as for California, well...I kinda flunked history back in high school, so not too sure about that one). It's a small town, with only one Starbucks, one night club, and a crappy, run down, movie theater that's kinda turning into a dive.

As for me physically, I'm kinda short - 5'3", blonde hair, hazel/green eyes. I'm an artist; I own a studio and gallery that's doing pretty well nowadays. Also! I have a younger sister as well, Dawn, who is eighteen and in her first year of college. My mother passed away a couple years ago from some complications post-brain surgery, so...it's been rough, but we are both doing well overall. My dead-beat father left us when I was just fifteen, and Dawn was too young to really understand what was going on, so it had been just the three of us for many years.

Wow - I still can't believe this is really happening, definitely taking some time to sink in - that I'm communicating with a guy in the 1880s. I've either gone completely bonkers or...god, is this real? It's like bizzaro-world, Twilight Zone episode material. But I think what's caused it is this desk - I have your desk, or at least I'm pretty sure it's yours. Your initials are carved into it, and it is pretty beat up and old.

I'm not too sure what I should tell you about the future. Your knowledge could, like, totally screw up history and what's suppose to actually happen - sci-fi shows always have an episode or two dealing with that. Oh! Sorry, you wouldn't know what I'm talking about at all, huh? One of my best friends is a Star Trek freak...again, making references that you wouldn't know about. Just take my word for it, there's stuff that you probably shouldn't know about the immediate future.

But...I can say that 2004 is fast paced, and full of modern-day conveinces. And I'm not talking about those conveniences you have - like "wow! Indoor plumbing totally rocks!" but we have automobiles, television, buildings that are over 100 stories tall, cell phones, computers, the Internet (I swear, I don't think our modern day world could survive without computers and the Net), and other stuff like that. Then we have the smaller things, like central heating and air conditioning that you guys probably don't have, right? I'm not too sure what's been invented by the 1880s and what hasn't.

So...I'm rambling. I have this really bad tendency to do that whenever I'm talking - I get the urge to just keep on a'talking, and apparently I must do that when I'm writing as well. I don't know what to believe - I don't know if I should believe this, or just...I mean, I had a thought of just throwing this journal out. Get rid of this desk quicker than you can say "I like cheese," (which I do, BTW), and move on - forget this ever happened. But...I'm too intrigued.

So, please, tell me more about yourself - what do you look like, what you do for a living. Are you married? I don't know how customs worked back then, but aren't most of you rich classy types married by the time you're 15 or something?

My hand is starting to cramp up...and now as I'm reading back over the beginning of this I'm wondering if you'll understand even half of what I just wrote, but. I'll try to work on writing more clearly...(what's happening is that I'm clearly going insane!)

 
Sincerely,
Buffy Summers

 
William read her response over two more times, trying to figure out what she meant at certain places, and enjoying her overall tone throughout the entire read. She sounded so full of life, so vibrant, and so very much unlike other women William encountered at those dull parties he attended. As he read her entry for the final time, he could feel her enthusiasm, as if she had so many things she wanted to say and only a limited time to do so. Her thoughts were rushed and scattered about, which was refreshing in a life of monotony social convention.

Her eagerness was contagious, and William found himself hastily grabbing his pen and ink to respond.

 
September 22, 1882

Dear Miss Summers,

Believe me, miss, you are not going insane. If by "crazy house" you mean an insane asylum, then if you were to be placed in there I fear I must join you as well.

You requested more information about myself; however, I regret to inform you that there is nothing extraordinary about me. I am five feet, ten inches tall and slender in build. My hair is a dark shade of blonde, and curly - sometimes so curly that it hangs above my eyes. My eyes are a light shade of blue. My sister is practically an exact replica of myself, both in physical features and our shared interests in authors and poets.

In answer to one of your questions, neither one of us are betrothed, actually. At one point in time I did have affections for a young lady, but they quickly disappeared when I was humiliated in front of her at a party. You could say that it is because of my profession that I was embarrassed in front of her. You see, Miss Summers, I am a poet. Or, for lack of better words, I tried to be a poet. However, I have since then discovered that I am not a man of words; I shall leave that to the genius of Blake, Wordsworth, Byron, and the like. Since then, I have devoted my time to my family. My father, a man whom I deeply admired and repected, passed away several years ago and I alone look out for Emmy and my mother. It has become more demanding over the last year since my mother has become ill.

I pray and remain hopeful, but the doctors say that she shows the early signs of consumption, a disease for which there is no known cure. I dread the day when, like yourself, I will have to carry on with only Emmy at my side. But let's not dwell on this melancholy topic any longer.

The future sounds a bit daunting from what you write. These "Star Trek" and "Twilight Zone" things you mentioned - are these shows you see at the theater? And buildings over 100 stories tall you say? My word, I would be thrilled to see such a sight. We do have indoor plumbing and automobiles, Miss Summers, however I doubt they are up to par with what people in the future would use, assuming technology has kept up with the passing of time. As I said, although the future does sound a bit fast, I would be thrilled to see all of these new inventions, especially to discover what "computers" and "Internets" are. And what, pray tell, does "BTW" mean?

I do not know why we have been granted this gift of communication, but I do hope that we will be able to take advantage of it. Aside from my mother and sister, my life has been somewhat solitary. If this is truly real, I delight in the possibility of speaking, albeit only through words, to another person who will not judge or ridicule me. Therefore, I hope by now that you believe in this. I noticed throughout your writing that you expressed serious concern over believing in me. However, I am a real person. I am William Stafford, I do live in 1882, and I really do exist. Please believe in that. Please believe me.

Sincerely,
William

 
~~~

 
The gallery and studio were closed Thursday and Friday for the yearly cleaning and fumigation, as well as having the walls repainted for the first time since Buffy had purchased the building, which meant that she was able to sleep in for two days in a row with the weekend ahead of her. Because of that, Buffy didn't wake until close to noon.

For the fifth night in a row, Buffy woke up fully refreshed from a full night's sleep. She was beginning to develop a habit of sleeping the night away like never before whenever she wrote to William. If it was magic that bound the two of them, and gave her a full night's sleep at the same time, Buffy would take full advantage of it for as long as she was able.

Over the course of the week, after discovering that William lived in England and she in California, Buffy figured out that the best time to write was at night right before she went to bed. Sometime in the night, William would wake and read her newest entry and respond by the time she got home from work.

Buffy climbed out of bed with a sense of hope. She couldn’t help feeling giddy, even over something so small, but she just knew that William would already have a response written in their journal.

Funny. She had only written in the journal twice, and hadn’t had it a week, and she already thought of it as their journal.

Flipping to the most recent entry, she was proven correct. With a smile on her face, she read his reply twice, pleased to read such an innocent and eager outlook on life.

After reading the description of his features, Buffy was able to create a somewhat blurry picture of him in her head whenever she read his writing. She could only imagine him looking up to the tops of some of the highest buildings in LA - seeing how far technology, architecture, and everything else had progressed in over 100 years, with his mouth and eyes wide in shock.

But he never is going to see that, is he? a voice in her mind reminded her. William lived in 1882, and she in 2004 - there was no way that would ever change.

Buffy brushed several loose strands of hair out of her face before pulling it together into a messy bun behind her head with a hair tie. Grabbing a pen from the container on top of the desk, Buffy began to write a reply.

September 23, 2004

Dear William,

First of all, please call me Buffy. Miss Summers and Miss both sound so...formal. Of course, I guess it's also gentlemanly, which is what you are, and no complaints there...but still, please just call me Buffy. I'm just a simple 21st century gal. :)

And silly me! I was a bit tipsy last night and just wrote whatever thought came to mind. I sorta forgot that you wouldn't know any of our acronyms. BTW stands for "by the way." We also have things like IMHO, which is "in my humble opinion" and LOL, which means "laughing out loud." Just a bunch of slang terms that people have created, which is in large part due to the Internet. Hmm...how can I explain the Internet to you? It's a bit hard to explain verbally without being able to show you what it's like in person. You use a box - a box that is a machine, which enables you to interact with other people and read information, talk to people living in other countries, and read newspapers and magazines from anywhere in the world without ever leaving your bedroom. Today, thanks to the internet, information is available to nearly everyone no matter where you are. Does that help at all?

And no, those things I mentioned aren't plays. They are TV - well, television shows. Think of it like...wait, do you guys have TV? I'm gonna go with a no - so the TV is basically like plays that are recorded and then broadcast - shown - everywhere to homes whose owners have bought a TV. And there are movies that are shown on TVs, all sorts of programs, like...soap operas, very dramatic romance sagas and sooo not worth your time...sitcoms, which are situational comedies...very short, humor-concentrated shows that are just way overrated on NBC, and dramas - a lot of cop, lawyer, hospital dramas - you do have all of those professions, don't you?

I told you I'm an artist right? Well, I didn't have to go into work which is why I was able to write to you so early in the day. Well, -

 
The doorbell rang, making Buffy jump. She had been so involved in writing to William that she had tuned out everything else.

Buffy threw on her robe and headed down the stairs. "I'm coming, I'm coming! Geez," she called out when the visitor rang the doorbell twice more.

Buffy opened the door and both she, and the person on the other side of the door, screamed.

"Dawn!"

"Buffy!"

The two sisters embraced, pressing a kiss to each other's cheek. A second later, Buffy stepped back and took a long look at her sister. "You look beautiful," she stated.

"You look...like you haven't take a shower yet," Dawn replied with a smirk.

Buffy hugged her sister once more before pulling her inside the house. "What are you doing here? Is it fall break? I thought that wasn't for another few weeks."

"And it's not. I have a friend that was driving through on her way down to...well, I forget the name of the place now, but anyway, she said I could hitch a ride since neither one of us have Friday classes," Dawn explained. "You just have to take me back Sunday afternoon, that's all."

Buffy smiled, so glad to see her sister she could barely make out words. "Well...I guess I can find time to do that," she replied. "How is your first semester going? How is your roommate - a total bitch? Making any friends? How-"

"Woah, woah, slow down there sister," Dawn interrupted, dropping her overnight canvas bag to the floor. "I'm here for almost three whole days. You have as much time as you need to interrogate me."

Buffy grinned and nodded her head. "Fine, fine. Well, your room is still the same, just make - oh!" In all the excitement, she had forgotten about her half-finished entry to William. Not wanting to leave the journal out of the desk for so long, Buffy turned back to her bedroom. "Excuse me, I need to go finish writing something...be back in a flash."

Dawn nodded and walked into the kitchen, hungry after the two-hour drive.

Meanwhile, Buffy went back down the hall and sat back down in front of her desk, picking up her pen once again.

 
Sorry William, I must cut this entry short. I can't believe it! Dawnie has come back home for the weekend. What a surprise! She just got here, and I plan on spending as much time with her as I can, doing all that fun sister-bonding type stuff I've actually begun to miss. I had more to say, but it'll just have to wait until next time.

But in answer to your last statement...William, I believe you. I believe in this, whatever and however it may be. I believe this is happening and that I'm not ready for it to end, whatever that means.

I believe you.

Until next time,
Buffy

 
Buffy drew a large smiley face beside her name before closing the journal and placing it inside the desk drawer.

 
~~~

 
By the time Buffy walked into the kitchen, Dawn had already grabbed bread, Mayo, lettuce, tomatoes, and both the ham and turkey from the fridge. She was in the middle of making a sandwich, while stuffing bits of both meats into her mouth.

"I can't wait to get some non-college food, Buffy...you don't even understand," Dawn said excitedly. "I mean, it's great there...just kinda monotonous eating the same thing day after day."

Buffy nodded. "Completely understandable. You're making one for big sis too, right?"

"Of course. One Dawn sandwich special coming right up."

Buffy pulled out one of the barstools and sat down on the counter. "It's so great to have you home. The house hasn't felt right since you left."

"Oh c'mon, after eighteen years of little, annoying me, I'm sure you're glad to have me out of your hair," Dawn argued. "Besides, now you've got the house to yourself in case you want to bring any hot guys over and screw their brains out."

"Dawn!" Buffy exclaimed, unused to hearing anything sexual come from her sister.

"Sorry," Dawn apologized sheepishly. "College teaches you bad, bad things."

Buffy grinned, unable to remain upset for long. "That's fine, I just like to live in the land of denial where you are still oblivious to all things related to sex."

A moment of silence passed between the two sisters, the sound of Dawn chopping and slicing being the only sound in the room.

"So...speaking of bringing guys over..." Dawn started; her eyes lowered as to not meet Buffy's.

"Dawn," Buffy warned, in a tone that said her sister better stop while she was ahead and trouble-free.

"Are there any guys?" Dawn quickly asked.

Buffy came close to shaking her head, but paused when William suddenly entered her mind. She stifled a giggle when she thought back to him asking what "BTW" meant. Boy, were they ever going to have language barrier problems!

"Ah ha!" the youngest Summers exclaimed. "There is someone!"

"No there's not," Buffy protested. "Well..."

"C'mon, dish," Dawn pleaded.

"No, it's nothing really..." Buffy started. "I just...uh...well, we've been writing to each other. Kinda like a pen pal thing." I guess you could say that, she thought.

"Really? Cool!" she answered. "Well, kinda in an out of date, retro, 90's-thing-to-do sort of way, but that's great! Who is he? What's he like?"

"Well, his name is William...he lives in London, has a younger sister named Emily-Grace, blonde hair, blue eyes...likes to read and write," Buffy explained from the few correspondences the two had shared.

"That's so awesome!," Dawn shrieked, happy for her sister. "Oh...British guy, huh? I bet his accent is hot."

"Well...well, I. Hmph," Buffy stammered. She hadn't thought about that before since she only read what he was saying and would never actually hear his voice.

Dawn quieted down, remembering Buffy's previous relationship all too well. "Buffy, is he a good guy?"

Buffy's face was somber, understanding what her sister was asking. But she thought back to William's elegant writing, his honesty throughout his words, and his pleading at the end of his last entry.

I am William Stafford, I do live in 1882, and I really do exist. Please believe in that. Please believe me.

"Yeah, Dawnie. He's a good guy," Buffy whispered.

 
~~~

 
TBC...





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