Dear Journal
London, England
April 1834
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.
Winnipeg, Manitoba
June 2010
Dear Journal, June 30th, 2010
How long has it been now? Decades? Centuries? 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.
July 2010
“Are you sure you want to leave for London?” my mother asked from my doorway. I was currently packing all my things for my flight that was leaving in about three more hours.
“Mom, I told you, I’ll be meeting dad at the airport, I’ll go to his house and I’ll be back after college. There’s nothing to worry about, dad’ll take care of me and everything will be fine,” I told her, trying to calm her nerves.
“I’m just worried, is all,” my mom told me.
“I know, mom. But I’m a big girl now, with big girl needs. I’ll visit every holiday and make sure to bring gifts. I’ll call, and e-mail, and all that good stuff,” I assured her.
“Just take care of yourself, alright? I don’t want to hear anything in the news about a Victoria Sinclair being murdered or burning the whole college campus down,” she said in a stern voice.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, zipping up my large suitcase, then starting to pack my carry on.
London, England
I adjusted my carry on bag, and pulled the rest of my luggage along behind me. I scanned the large crowd of people looking for my dark haired father.
I looked at all the signs people held in their hands and noticed my name printed neatly on a large white piece of paper. I walked over to the man in the dark suit, and he led me to an old looking black car.
“Your father sends his apologies for not being able to be here to meet you, but he sent me to escort you to his home,” he told me, his English accent very thick.
“Oh, that’s fine. I’ll just see him when we get there.” I replied with a shrug.
“Of course. Now, let’s not dawdle, your father’s expecting you home soon,” he told me while ushering me to the car. I followed him quietly, helping him put all of my luggage into the trunk of the car, then getting into the backseat with my with my big enough bag.
As we drove, the car ride was silent minus the sounds o my soft breathing.
“So, is this your first time visiting London?” The sound of his voice startled me. I wasn’t sure if my hearing was just off, but his voice sounded almost deeper then it did a few minutes ago.
“Uh, yeah. My dad enrolled me in the college he founded,” I told him.
“Oh? Which one?” he asked, sounding intrigued.
“I’m not sure yet. He told me on the phone he was going to tell me when I met him at the airport. He said he wanted it to be a surprise,” I replied politely.
“I see,” he said quietly.
The rest of the ride continued in silence. I watched as the trees, buildings, landscapes, and cars pass us by. It really was fascinating.
After about an hour, we pulled up to a very large home. The house was gorgeous, yes, but it had some sort of eerie, dark glow to it.
“This is my father’s house?” I asked, my gut telling me I should turn back and run. But it seemed he ignored my question and continued unpacking my things.
Suddenly, a large hand holding a cloth cut off the rest of my sentence and I began to panic. My cries for help were muffled and soon I felt drowsy. My vision was starting to blur and my eyelids started to get heavier and heavier.
Soon, there was nothing but black.
-
“You, by far, are the most stupid, insufferable man I have ever met and I am ashamed to call you my brother,” my sister said. She sounded much more calm hen she actually was, that I knew for certain. “You just, kidnapped a girl! Do you feel no guilt? No remorse?”
“The girl is fine, but she’s in great danger. I can feel it,” I explained to her.
“Oh, that’s an excuse,” she replied, seething.
“Look, I realize you’re incredibly ticked off, but there’s nothing we can do about it now,” I said.
“What do mean there’s nothing we can do about it now? You’re going to return that girl to her home, where she belongs!” she commanded.
“I’m afraid it’s not that easy,” I said, slowly.
“Oh, Aiden. You better not have,” she warned.
“Unfortunately, I did. We’re already in Draken.”
-
I sat up, groggy. I turned my neck from side to side slowly, taking in all m y surroundings. The large maroon curtains were pulled shut to keep the light from streaming in through the window. The walls were pained with a dark colour that I couldn’t make out in the dark room and I was sitting on a large, comfortable bed.
I ran my fingers through my tangled hair and smoothed it down. It took me a whole minute to remember everything that had happened to me only a while ago. That man that was supposedly going to take me to my father had kidnapped me! In broad daylight, too!
I quickly scrambled out of the bed and checked to see if I was harmed in anyway – or worse – violated. Surely the man couldn’t have been that cruel, but then again, he did kidnap me, after all. I pulled open the large curtains and noticed it was still dark out.
I walked out silently and looked over the railing. It seemed I was standing at least 15 ft in the air on some fancy balcony. I walked back into the room with a silent curse. There must be some other way to get out of this place.
I heard a soft knock on the door and I panicked. My mind was on overload, there was only that one balcony and if I dared to jump from it, I’d definitely break my back. So that was out of the question.
I jumped back into the bed, smoothed the covers over my body and shut my eyes, trying to pretend I was asleep. The door opened slowly and I held my breath. Soft footsteps met the hardwood floor and I carefully tried to shallow my breathing.
I cracked open one of my eyes only slightly but was shocked to see somebody who hardly resembled the man I thought to be my kidnapper.
This man must’ve been at least a whole decade and a half younger then the driver. This man had dark dishevelled hair that went straight down to his shoulders. When he turned my eye snapped shut and I continued to pretend I was asleep.
“I know you’re awake.” How did he find out? I was pretty convincing.
My eyes opened slightly, cautiously. I braced myself for something, anything. Maybe he was going to knock me unconscious again.
“I’m not about to hurt you, you have my word,” he said.
“Why should I trust you?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. But it was a good point; you have to admit.
“Victoria-“
“And how in heavens do you know my name? How did you know I was going to London? How did you know where to meet me? My God, you’re some sort of stalker! A creep! How long have you been following me?”
“I’m not a stalker or a creep. I’ve never followed you until today. But I have reason,” he told me, his voice calm but his posture rigid.
“Oh? Please do explain. Not as if I have much else to do.”
“First you must know I mean no harm, whatsoever. I’m here simply to protect you.” I interrupted him with a short but audible scoff. “My name is Aiden and I’m a shape shifter. There’s a man hunting you as we speak, and he won’t stop until you’re completely out of the way.”
“So, you mean d-dead?” I stuttered, “But there must be some sort of mistake. I’m hardly anybody, why would he want to,” I paused to lower my voice, “kill me?”
“Everything will be answered in due time, and it will all make sense, but for now you must trust me,” he told me.
“How can I trust you? I don’t even know you. Hold on, if you really are a shape shifter then you must have been the man who kidnapped me! You’re a criminal! And you want me to trust you? What about my mother, my father, my friends? They’ll be worried,” I all but yelled at him.
“I understand how you feel, and if I could have done this a different way, you must believe me when I say I would have. But what’s done is done, there’s no turning back now. And had you stayed with your family, he and his workers would have slaughtered them, I’m doing this for your safety and theirs.”
“So what do you propose we do? How do we stop him?” I asked.
“There’s only one weapon that can stop him. It’s called the Sword of Cavarie,” he explained.
“Okay, well, let’s go then. Let’s get the sword and end this,” I said.
“I’m afraid it’s not going to be that easy,” he said, looking slightly sheepish. If there was ever a time to be attracted to sheepishness, it wasn’t now. But I couldn’t help myself, I swear.
