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Journal of Secrets! Finally working on the finished product! |
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Finished product Prolouge!! ENJOY!!
Prologue
1849
Darkness Lurks in us all.
The moon is full, the darkness is intense, but with a little bit of moonlight, creativity, and the thoughts surrounding you, you can maneuver around mindlessly. Well, that’s what she always thought, and that was why she was using the moon to guide her feet, but used her mind to maneuver around without any hesitation. And it wasn’t the moon’s light that helped her with this task. It was her thoughts from the passing day and onto the night. She smiled as she thought about the way she could move around alone in the dark, the thoughts of a murderer not keeping her away from the hill that beckoned her for countless nights. It was only when she heard of the coming hurricane Linda that she actually wanted to come to this hill before the hurricane destroyed her home and village.
The hurricane frightened many others, but not Meagan Anne Singer. She welcomed the hurricane, welcome the disaster to her life, realizing this might be the last night that she experienced any real excitement; adrenaline. She didn’t know what was in her mind that made her think that this would be the last night to feel incidentally joyful or hated, or excited, but it kept her motivated to keep moving on.
She watched as her feet moved forward, up the steep hill known as Horror Hill for the many murders that took place year after year; day after day… None of those murders had ever been solved, and she knew that this should frighten her as well, but it didn’t. Once again, she welcomed the darkness into her life, beckoning to it, pleading that the light may actually stay away. She only hoped that it would stay away for the rest of her life, not just now as a sixteen-year-old.
She smirked. She was thinking about her day, where her brother, Matthew, usually so calm and quiet and unpredictable, inhuman, was happy and predictable. Her parents welcomed the change, but Meagan had a feeling that maybe this wasn’t such a great new change. She watched him all day long, keeping an eye on her older brother, like her older sister, Linda, had. She felt instantly older as she watched her brother behave so… childish; foolish. But now, when the day was itching to an end, she felt foolish. Why hadn’t she trusted him? He was human once too. He just changed when he turned twenty one when Charlie died.
Meagan realized that her feet had stopped moving without her consent. She sighed, and took a graceful step into the moonlight, allowing the light to take her over before she decided to step back into the darkness, and creep towards the oak tree that served as her much older deceased brother, Charlie Singer’s, resting place.
Meagan’s intense, cold, blue eyes searched the moonlight’s face, noting all the darkened areas where there were craters, and then swiftly turned to look at the oak tree where both Charlie and something else extremely important rested. Her pink lips curled into a smile, her pale skin shining in the light. Her long legs led her toward the tree, and she took a step, and sat down on Charlie’s roots, taking a deep breath, and then sighed it out. It felt welcoming to feel her brother’s presence underneath her along with the important material only one centimeter ahead of her.
She took another breath of cold air, and lightly moved her hands towards the muddy earth, and her fingers danced on a slight lump in the dirt.
She could feel the material that begged for her to dig, so she did. She dug until her fingers numbed under her white finger nails, and then she found what she was looking for… A black tattered journal with a brown turkey quill and a bottle of ink that she would dump out later that night as she knew she wouldn’t return until she really had too… which could mean a few months at the least.
She smiled with glee, and picked up the journal, ink, and quill, and flipped through the white paper that had neatly scrawled ink on them until she made her way to a new page.
She chuckled, as she felt her skin tingle at the quill’s edge, and dipped it into the black ink. It was divine… To feel her journal once again, and she felt all of the day’s event rush onto the paper… It had been months… five months to be precise, since she had last written in her journal.
She began writing, taking all of the moods in the last months into account.
“‘Dear Journal…’” she began. “‘My day was rather exciting. My life felt rather riveting today as I could feel the excitement biting into my pitiful brother’s mind. My parents enjoyed his enthusiasm much as he never smiled since Charlie’s death,’” Meagan cringed. “‘But I can see past his gorgeous smile. I know he is plotting something, and I am more than determined to figure it out. His smile was all too forced, today… I can see past it. His smile doesn’t touch his eyes. It’s quite disappointing as I know my parents do not see as well as I. Even Linda, my incompetent, older sister, can tell that he isn’t enthusiastic about just anything. He’s enthusiastic about something that I know will happen tonight. And I am willing to make a guess.’” Meagan gazed lovingly into the stars, watching a shooting star graze swiftly past her vision. She smiled to herself, and then bent down to right more into her journal.
“‘Maybe he’s plotting to kill someone tonight. My parents do not know, but he is rather unexcited by our existence on this planet… as I am as well. He knows all of our dark secrets. Like the fact that my great grandmother wasn’t always 17, as she looked, but much older. She lived for 3,900 years before finally passing on. Matthew knows that one of the Singers living right now, have her genes, and he wants to find out who… He want’s the amazing gene that will make you live long, but only look like a certain age. However, I do not want this gene. If he kills me first to find out, I’d be happy to allow to darkness into my already morbid soul.”’
Meagan once again laughed to herself. Then, she heard it.
She was pulled out of her reverie, and looked down the hill, unwillingly. She heard screams… And gunshots, and then it was inhumanly quiet. The moon was over shadowed by the clouds, and Meagan was surrounded by darkness.
This would’ve scared anyone. Except Meagan. She knew it was coming, and she was willing to take this risk. But, not now.
She felt her eyes tear. What would she do with the journal? It was the only thing that was of importance to her… What could she do?
She saw lights flicker on and off down in the village of Indiana. He was coming, she realized. But Meagan felt a shock run down her spine. It wasn’t Matthew.
Meagan could feel a scream itching its way up her throat, but she willingly coughed it down no matter how much it hurt. She felt tears pool in her eyes.
Maybe she wasn’t ready for this. Meagan stood up, her eyes full of fear, grazed around the premises. She needed to find a new hiding place. She turned her back towards the oak tree, and thought quickly, thoughts racing in her mind. She could hide them in the rose smelling bushes, she thought… No… the person who was down in the village would be able to find it so easily… Maybe dig deep, and leave it in Charlie’s hands… No! She wouldn’t defy her brother’s grave so she could keep her own secrets safe… That was utterly selfish.
She turned her head around, and she felt someone lock eyes with her own. She felt his beautiful violet eyes bore into hers.
She gasped. That was all too quick! The journal was still in her palms…
“Hand it over, Meagan…” the male voice begged her. She shook her head, feeling the fear overwhelm her.
What about her parents? “No. I won’t give you this!” Meagan screamed. She shook her head violently. Who was he? This wasn’t her brother… The voice this stranger presented her with was too…musical. Velvet soft. Matthew had a husky voice. This wasn’t her prediction. This wasn’t what she wanted! She would much rather die at her brother’s hands. Not at some other stranger who wanted her journal for what seemed no reason at all!
“But why not?” the musical voice asked her. His face was covered with raw black fabric, his violet eyes only showing. He was also dressed in black, looking like a complete idiot.
“Fool. You don’t know why you even want this crummy thing,” she pressed. She needed to distract him. Protecting this journal was the only thing she lived for. So, she ran. She kicked the boy in the testes, and pushed past him, as he fell, and cringed in pain. So maybe that wasn’t such a good idea…
She felt his icy glare at her back, as she ran into the moonlight. She looked around, eyes alert, the journal plastered in her numb hands. Where could she hide it!
“Damn it, Singer! You’ll pay for that!” Meagan heard the boy screech, and then felt something cold and sharp at her neck.
‘Damn. That was fast…’ Meagan thought to herself, as she tried not to move as the blade was already cutting through her skin.
“Meagan Anne Singer. Your parents would be so ashamed of you…” The velvet voice spoke, his lips tickling her ear.
“Why?” Meagan croaked. ‘Damn it, Meg. Pull yourself together…’ she thought to herself again.
He chuckled. “Never mind. Forget it, Meagan. Give me the damn journal, and your life will end at ease. You will not feel anything after it’s over. But if you don’t give me the bloody book, I will make it torture. Do you understand that, Singer?” The velvet voice asked.
Megan nodded. The blade skimming her throat. She flinched.
“Just tell me who you are,” Meagan demanded through clenched teeth.
“Ah, Meagan.” The voice soothed. “You’ll die anyways, so why does it matter?” He asked her.
She groaned. It wouldn’t matter. “I just want to know.” She replied simply.
He shrugged, taking the blade from her neck, and throwing her to the floor. The journal fell from her hands, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“I am someone you know. Yet not so well. You can see way past even the slightest smile of mine. But you never speak. Why is that?” He asked me. She tried to comprehend his words, but the adrenaline made it hard for her. She reached for her journal, but he took a step forward, and stomped on her finger. She screamed as he dug her wrist and fingers into the ground. Had he just broken her wrist?
He took the journal in his hands like it was a piece of garbage, and then held it tightly to his chest, feeling its importance.
“See, now that you made it difficult, I have to make your death longer. Is that what you wanted, Singer?”
“Shut up, Matthew.”
He laughed… bellowed actually like an old friend who had just heard a particularly funny joke. Then it turned bitter; forced.
“I am no Matthew Singer. Your brother wouldn’t have the guts to kill his entire family including his youngest sister. If he had, he would’ve also killed Charlie who I had also killed nearly five years ago because I couldn’t get near Linda. I promised her that I wouldn’t let anyone have her. And see? Now she’s dead. And I will be visiting her soon enough.”
She clenched her teeth together. “You are not going to see my sister. You are going to hell.” I spoke confidently.
He chuckled. “Even so, she is no ones. Ah, Meagan. It’s been a nice running into you. I will miss you, sweetie.” The man spoke.
“But before I kill you, do you have any guesses to who I am?” Meagan searched her thoughts. No one reached her mind, the pain was numbing in her wrist. Was she already dying? And then, on impulse, she stood up, and reached toward the journal, and as he held the blade towards her fingers, she pushed it away with her good hand, and kicked him to the floor taking both the blade and the journal.
He looked at her, fear consuming his eyes. He had no other weapons? This surprised her, and she had to laugh at this.
“Pathetic. I may not know who you are, but maybe I don’t want to know.” He looked at her as he stood up. Meagan realized that he was much stronger than her. It was time.
She looked sadly at her book, and opened it as confusion crossed the boys face.
Tears streamed down her cheek. There was no other way out. She was going to hell too.
She pulled the first page out, skimmed it, and let the wind take it. The wind had grown exceptionally stronger, and this pleased her. A good way to end life.
She tore the other pages out amongst them, the recent one. The boy tried grabbing them, but they skimmed his fingers. He ran at her when she threw the journal in the awaiting river down below.
He was seconds away. She closed her eyes, and smiled. This confused him and he stopped dead in his track.
“Why the hell would you do that?!” He screamed as he pulled out a pistol.
“Hmm. So you do have more weapons?” Meagan asked, laughing bitterly, throwing her head back. She was still sad.
Meagan took the blade, and slit her wrist, a fine line of blood escaping, soon with more to follow. It stung, and it felt like she had stabbed the knife in her wrist many times without stopping. She ripped off a piece of her white summer dress and wrapped it around her new wound lightly as a tourniquet. She sensed the boy with the velvet voice shake in anger. But why would he be mad if she was the one committing suicide? Blood wouldn’t be spilt on his hands, well, not her’s anyways. Her shook his head back and fourth, suddenly eager for Meagan’s death.
She felt fire every where and she had to force down a scream. She could sense that a questing was itching away at him. She was happy to answer as sudden dissatisfaction played across his concealed face.
“Why would you do that?!” Matthew gasped as if he was holding onto the breath for the last ten minutes.
She answered darkly. “Why would I want a vile creature defy my secrets?” She shook her head sadly, “it would be a waste to have secrets I’ve had since I was five to be exposed to the darkness I’ve lived in for years.”
He acted hurt, but then clicked his tongue like she was caught stealing a cookie before dinner. He laughed seeing something hilarious.
She sighed and glanced over his person.
“The pages aren’t lost,” she finally whispered. Her mind felt numb.
“How do you see that?” He shouted, “You just threw all of you precious memories into the river below and into the untamable wind! The pages will be defied by someone else! Possibly worse than I!” He chuckled to that. “No, no one is more cruel than me.”
She couldn’t argue. But his mocking tone was making her infuriated. Why wasn’t death coming faster for her?
He chuckled again. She glanced down at him, plastering on a smile.
“No, no. Someone will find it. If not 3 years, than a hundred and fifty six. Either way, I’ll still be long gone. And so will you.”
He laughed. She sighed and took a seat. He moved the pistol down, but she could feel nauseated already. She was going to die. But she wasn’t going to let this man take the life from her.
“Ah, and that is where you are wrong, Meagan. So, so wrong.” She looked up from under her eyelashes.
“You think that you are the one?”
He simply nodded. “You are not part of my family.” Meagan groaned, she took the blade, and held it to her neck more causally, like she was in a play. “You will not get that secret. Nor will I.” She giggled, he seemed confused. “Tell me something… You killed my whole family?” Meagan asked, doubtfully.
The man nodded.
“Including that ghastly brother of mine?” Meagan asked again, this time more aggravated.
He hesitated, and she barked a laugh. “I knew it!” She shouted, and then she spoke the words again, only much more sadly this time.
He dropped the pistol then. She glanced at it. Had he managed to figure out her motives?
“I already know that you are going to kill yourself, Singer. So get it over with, or kill me, if you please.” The man replied.
“Excuse me? I will not murder a creature like you!” She scowled in disgust.
“Why?” He asked.
She just barked another laugh, and felt a cold blade, that had not belonged to her, against her throat.
“You were playing along, weren’t you?” Meagan asked, unafraid.
“Yes,” he answered swiftly. “You’re the last singer.”
She rolled her eyes. “Just do it already.”
“I’m not going to do it on your command. Tell me who is going to take your journal in 156 years.”
“You bought into that. Whatever. Her name is like honey. Her last name so true. She’s a college freshmen.” She spoke very quietly.
“Do you withhold that power?” He asked, doubtfully.
“No. It’s a guess. She’s someone similar to me, only much much older.” Meagan answered.
“So there is no need to keep you.” Meagan heard, and she mouthed the words with him, and felt darkness take her in.
This was the last feeling she felt: sorrow. For the first time in four years, she felt more alone then ever, and darkness was going to deliver more of this unbearable darkness.
She wondered, with her last breath of air…
What was he to do now?
 Deceased Poet · Fri Sep 19, 2008 @ 10:04pm · 1 Comments |
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