To say you were a huge fan of the Romantic period would be a gross understatement. You adored the old Victorian poets and writers...You never felt quite at home in this world...and you found solace in the words of people from two hundred years ago.

The Shelleys and Byron were you're absolute favorites. They were absolutely riots of people...Eccentric and modern...But their work...their hearts were beautiful. Byron's sweeping tales of travel and passion, Percy's tender accounts of nature and love and of course Mary's books on morality and science...

They were such brilliant people...You really felt an embarrassing connection to specifically the three of them. You read biographies about them, watched documentaries, visited museums where some of their items were preserved...It was odd how much you cared for them...

And oh what you would have given to have been a fly on the wall during the summer the writers shared at the Villa Diodati on lake Geneva in the year without a summer in 1816...They all lived together for a summer telling ghost stories and entangling their friendships and romances together into a messy knot...And due to a ghost story of Byron's idea...Mary wrote her masterpiece Frankenstein.

You would have given anything to have been there...To have met your idols...

You fall asleep tonight in your bed...face down in a book of Percy's poems...The tender flowery worlds ringing in your dreams...As your mind wanders through dreams...

But when you wake up...Theres a raging storm outside...It was a calm night before? And...there a heavy scent of wine and opium and silk in the air...And you're very much not in your house.

You recognize the room...You toured the Villa Diodati one year...But then the rooms were blocked off and faded...Sterile to be preserved for years to come...But right now the Villa is alive...A fire burns in the fireplace, half drunk wine glasses, and scrawled poetry litter the tables, books have been thrown around everywhere, a pair of dogs play in the corner...And three familiar figures stare down at you wide eyed and curious.

You recognize them of course...Although their portaits don't do them justice...It's madness...But you see the soft almost gentle features of Percy Shelley on your left. Eyes a soft puppy dog brown, thick silken light brown hair fluffy, cheeks rosy. Lord Byron in the middle sharp blue eyes and his inky black hair in a thousand clipped curls like a marble bust of a Greek God, his skin is so pale its alabaster and you can see his weight is shifted onto his good leg...And then on the right is Mary Shelley. Large intelligent green eyes, long dark brown hair pulled back, her sharp nose and thoughtful elegant features lit up with curiosity.

As if you can't hear him Byron nods to Percy, amused. "Look...She's awake...Thats the bloody weirdest thing I've ever seen." Percy leans forward and studies your modern clothing with great interest. "She can't be from our realm...This has to be some supernatural magic!" He exclaims like the idea excites him. Byron grins. "Do you think our ghost stories have finally summoned some spirit?" However Mary frowns at them and tells them to be quiet...and speaks to you. "It doesn't matter who she is...Are you alright?" She asks gently.