Aiden Blade Williams - magical
Victoria Addison Sinclair – human
Dear Journal
Dear Journal, April 2nd, 1834
It’s been a whole human year since it’s happened. Why does it feel so much longer? Why does the pain still linger? I never really loved her, so why does it hurt so much?
I cannot say if I will ever forgive myself for such a deed. But there is no turning back from this point. I must learn to cope; I must learn to live.
June 2010
The humid air made my breathing a little bit harder. The scorching sun made my sweat run a little bit faster. It was only the middle of June but I didn’t think the city of Winnipeg could get any more warmer.
“Victoria!” I turned to face my very best friend, Lindsay. “Victoria Sinclair! You’ll never guess what has happened!” She ran towards me, looking much too excited.
“Lindsay, breath first and then speak,” I advised her.
“There’s no time for breathing!” she exclaimed, “Not after Caleb asked me to go to prom with him!”
I sighed and rolled my eyes. Lindsay had been obsessed with Caleb Atchison for months now, the boy was attractive, I’ll admit that, but he was hardly what people would classify as a gentleman.
“He has to be the sweetest guy in our senior grade! Not to mention the cutest guy there is!” she gushed. “And his looks are only a bonus.”
“I’m sure,” I mumbled, running my fingers through my hair, subconsciously.
“You know, you could at least act like you’re happy for me. You’re always so negative, being a pessimist will get you nowhere,” she informed me.
“So you say,” I muttered.
“And it wouldn’t kill you to wear more colours either. I swear, your whole life revolves around the colours gray, white, and black.”
“Mhm,” I agreed, only half-heartedly.
“And you should also get out more, I mean, look at you! You’re so pale!” she pointed out, lifting my arm and then dropping it. “In fact, tonight we’re going to go to the mall, and we’re going to buy you a whole new wardrobe. Then we’re going to go out and work on our tans.”
“Sure,” I replied, barely listening now.
She continued to talk, and I replied with one-worded answers.
Dear Journal, June 19th, 2010
How long has it been now? Days? Weeks? Months? Years? I’ve lost track of time; there seems to be no room for time nowadays. I now live in a small city, someplace located in London.
Or was it Canada? Or maybe it was Europe? It seems there’s no room for maps either.
These people are so peculiar, so weird as they would call it. Men and women are being slaughtered everywhere I look; children are being taken right off the streets or even from their homes.
Mothers are abandoning their babies almost everyday. People talk of “pranking” people left and right. They insult each other all the time. They’re all so obnoxious, ignorant even.
This place is nothing like Draken. This place is so much brighter. Nothing even remotely close to Draken, indeed.
July 2010
