Chapter#3: Diary Be Gone
May 18, 1967
Dear Diary,
I am an observer. People may deny, but it is true. Yesterday I saw a strange girl in a light blue cloak. She seemed to be floating, and it didn’t seem right. For some reason no one noticed her. One old man almost bumped into her. The even stranger thing was she never went to my school, and she was so familiar; like I knew her and she was a part of me. I told my mom yesterday, and she said, “You’ll know when your job is done. My mom is like no other, and very poetic. She says things no one but I understands. This time, my mom said something I never heard before; something new; something weird. Then she vanished. A few hours later Aunt May came.”Hey, da’lin’, your job needs to be done.” I couldn’t figure out this ‘job’. “What job? What does this mean?” I shouted.
BAM. Silence. Then Aunt May, singer of all singers sang:
Yemni, anaz, O alinmo na ka; sinkia.
Let me sing this song to you.
Watch her now until you’re done,
Then you may just have some fun.
Protect us, then as you will see,
I just don’t belong to me.
Ok, I was frightened, but the words just sung meant something to me. Aunt May was an amazing singer, but she joked way too much. Her face looked pale, and her light brown hair turned black as I suddenly stared at her. She also vanished. I don’t get why all this strange things are happening in this specific period of my eleven-year-old life.
The last lines of the song certainly intrigued me...I just don’t belong to me...I have no idea how I memorized the song, just hearing it once. I felt so normal, yet so queer.
Walking down the street that day, I saw a tall person in the shadows. Whoever it was wore a black cloak, and they whispered to the wind. I felt that ‘person’ was following me ever since Aunt May sang that song. I still feel watched, and I haven’t seen Aunt May, nor my mother in a week. I was used to caring for myself alone, but not being alone for a long time. All these weird and strange and queer things are happening at this point in my life. If I don’t do anything, I’m sure
GET THIS DIARY ENTRY AND GIVE IT TO THE WIND. NOW.
The wind zoomed through the sky, and a young girl meandering across the soft park grass caught a crumpled paper. Her name was Mary. She was a normal kid in a normal town, according to her normal mom and her normal dad. Mary herself didn’t feel normal at all. She never told anyone in her family this, but she didn’t think her family was really her biological family. She felt…adopted. She looked nothing like them, first of all. Her mom, dad, and brothers had light brown hair and round blue eyes. Mary, on the other hand, also had blue eyes, but they were almond-shaped, and her hair was so dark brown it sometimes looked black. Of course, only Mary noticed these minor but important differences because she also noticed many other things that no one would ever even see.
The paper she picked up had what seemed to be a diary entry. It had tiny, neat, cursive handwriting scrawled through the page.
Mary stared at the paper. “Ooh, the handwriting is very neat,” she mumbled to herself. “I just don’t get how this paper would last this long, floating through the wind,” she wondered, as she saw the date, 1967.
Eager to read the mysterious paper, Mary dashed toward the nearest bench she saw and started reading. She had to reread at certain times because of the strange resemblance the writer seemed to have with her. The story was so strange, she couldn’t tell if it really happened, or if it was just a made-up story from someone’s journal. As she read the bottom of the paper, the sentence just stopped, just like that. The weird thing was there was a huge splatter of dark purple ink at the bottom.
“Hmm…maybe there is a back?” Mary questioned, as she turned the paper around.
She saw none of the tiny cursive handwriting, but instead, huge, eerie, printed handwriting that seemed to know who was reading it.
GET THIS DIARY ENTRY AND GIVE IT TO THE WIND. NOW.
Mary gasped, threw the entry as far away as possible, and panicked as she bolted home.
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