I slowly got out of bed, feeling tired after barely getting any sleep. Too many thoughts had kept me awake throughout the night.
I reached under my pillow and pulled out the diary. For a moment, I just stared at it before placing it carefully on my study table. Letting out a sigh, I headed to freshen up and get ready for school.
Before leaving my room, I glanced at the diary one last time.
Then I walked out.
At school, I sat at my desk, my mind still racing.
Should I ask someone about it?
Should I tell Kyra?
Maybe she could help me.
But what if she thought I was crazy?
No... I couldn't trust anyone with this. Not yet.
Kyra was a good friend, but something held me back. The thought of telling her about a diary that wrote back to me sounded ridiculous even in my own head.
So I kept quiet, staring blankly at my desk while the questions continued to swirl through my mind.
"Azalea."
I blinked and looked up.
Kyra had somehow appeared beside me and was now sitting on the edge of the bench, staring at me with narrowed eyes.
"What?" I asked.
"You've been staring at that desk for like five minutes."
"I have not."
"You absolutely have."
I looked away.
"Okay, maybe a little."
Kyra crossed her arms. "What's going on with you?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing."
She gave me a look that clearly said I don't believe you.
"Azalea, you've looked half-dead all morning."
I let out a small sigh.
"I just didn't sleep well."
"That's it?"
"Yeah."
"You sure?"
I hesitated for a second before nodding.
"Pretty sure."
Kyra studied my face for a moment.
Then she shrugged.
"Alright. But if you're secretly being haunted by a ghost or something, I want to know."
I nearly choked.
"What?"
She laughed.
"I'm kidding."
I forced out an awkward laugh of my own.
"Right. A ghost. Totally."
"See? You're smiling now."
"Because you're weird."
"And you're sleep-deprived."
Before I could reply, the teacher walked into the classroom.
Kyra faced towards the board.
"Get some sleep tonight, Azalea."
"I'll try."
But as she looked away, my eyes drifted toward the classroom window.
If only a lack of sleep was the real problem.
During the break, Kyra and I sat beneath the shade of a tree near the school grounds. Students chatted around us while others rushed to the canteen.
I picked at my lunch absentmindedly.
"Kyra?"
"Hm?"
"What do you think about mysterious powers?"
She raised an eyebrow.
"Mysterious powers?"
"Yeah. Like... supernatural stuff."
Kyra chewed thoughtfully before answering.
"Depends on what you mean."
"Like ghosts. Magic. Things that can't really be explained."
She laughed.
"That's random."
"I was just wondering."
Kyra looked up at the sky.
"I don't know. I'd like to believe some weird things exist. The universe is huge. It'd be boring if everything had a simple explanation."
"So you think they could be real?"
"Maybe."
I felt a small flicker of hope.
"But," she continued, pointing a finger at me, "most of the time there's a logical explanation."
Of course there was.
"What if there wasn't?" I asked.
Kyra narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"Why are you asking all this?"
"No reason."
"Azalea."
"I'm serious. Just answer."
She sighed dramatically.
"Fine. If something truly impossible happened right in front of me, I'd believe it."
"And if nobody else believed you?"
Kyra shrugged.
"Then I'd keep trying to figure it out myself."
I stared down at my lunch.
That wasn't exactly the answer I was hoping for.
"You're being weird today," Kyra said.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Despite myself, I smiled a little.
Still, as the bell rang and we stood up to head back to class, one thought refused to leave my mind.
If I told Kyra about the diary...
Would she think it was impossible?
Or would she believe me?
I decided to keep it to myself.
At least for now.
There was no way I could tell anyone about the diary. Not until I understood what was happening myself.
The rest of the school day dragged on. I tried paying attention in class, but my mind kept wandering back to the diary sitting in my room.
Before I knew it, the final bell rang.
The seemingly endless day had finally come to an end.
I headed home, exhausted.
Once I got back, I freshened up and changed into something comfortable. Mom asked me to help with a few chores around the house, so I spent some time helping her out before settling down to finish my homework.
For once, I was glad the homework kept me busy.
It gave me something else to think about.
After dinner, I washed my plate and wished my parents good night before making my way back to my room.
As soon as I closed the door behind me, my eyes drifted toward my study table.
The diary was still there.
Waiting.
My heart skipped a beat.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Well... not that the diary could move.
At least, I hoped it couldn't.
I swallowed nervously and slowly walked toward it.
I opened it slowly.
The words from last night were still there, staring back at me as if they were determined to remind me that this was real.
Not a dream.
Not my imagination.
Real.
I let out a heavy sigh and picked up my pen.
For a moment, I hesitated above the page before finally writing.
17th April, 2026
Dear Diary,
No matter how much I think about it, none of this makes any sense.
What exactly are you?
I stared at the words for a few seconds after finishing them.
Then I set the pen down and waited.
The room was silent except for the faint hum of the ceiling fan.
A minute passed.
Then another.
Just as I was beginning to think nothing would happen, ink slowly began to spread across the page.
Letters formed one after another, as though an invisible hand was writing them.
I held my breath.
The reply had begun.
The ink slowly spread across the page, forming words one letter at a time.
"I don't know what I should define myself as. But... I suppose I could say that I was human forty years ago."
My grip on the pen tightened.
The writing paused for a moment before continuing.
"Before I died."
I froze.
My eyes remained fixed on those three words.
*Before I died.*
A chill ran down my spine.
Somehow, seeing it written so casually made it even more unsettling.
I read the sentence again.
And again.
The room suddenly felt much colder than it had a few seconds ago.
I swallowed hard and stared at the words for a long moment.
Before I died.
A dozen questions rushed through my mind at once.
With slightly shaky hands, I picked up my pen and wrote beneath the reply.
What was your name?
How did you die?
And... how old were you?
I stared at the questions after writing them.
Part of me wasn't sure if I actually wanted the answers.
The page remained still for several moments.
Then the ink began to move once more.
Slowly.
Almost hesitantly.
As though whoever was writing on the other side was deciding how much to tell me.
The ink began moving across the page much faster this time.
I was an orphan in the town of Astervale. A small town, yet lively.
My name is Veiren.
I used to be a lonely child. No matter who tried to adopt me, they met with bad luck somehow along the way. Eventually, people began looking at me as if I were a curse.
At the age of fifteen, I was banished to the edge of the forest.
I survived on wild fruits and hunting. Over time, I built a small treehouse and made it my home.
Yet somehow, my hardship wasn't enough for the people around me.
Whenever they found me, they beat me.
I possessed this diary since my days at the orphanage. It had been left to me by my parents. It was the only thing I had from them, and I cherished it deeply.
I wrote everything in here.
My thoughts.
My prayers.
My hopes.
When I was seventeen, I found a baby goat wandering alone and decided to keep him.
I named him Simo.
He became my only friend.
One day, I found some village boys tormenting him. I fought them and drove them away.
A few nights later, they returned while I slept.
They burned Simo alive.
For a long time, the page remained still.
When the writing resumed, it seemed shakier.
I could not bear it.
I tore pages from this diary. Pages filled with prayers to God. Pages where I begged for someone, anyone, to accept me.
I cried until I could cry no more.
Then I made a decision.
I walked into the village carrying a wooden club with iron nails driven through it.
I struck anyone who tried to stop me.
People feared me.
They called me a monster.
Perhaps I became one.
I grew cold.
I hurt those who hurt me.
But despite everything...
I never killed anyone.
The writing paused again.
When it returned, the words appeared slowly.
When I turned eighteen, I finally believed life might become better.
That night, while I slept in my treehouse, the villagers surrounded it.
They set it on fire.
I woke to smoke and flames.
There was nowhere to run.
No one to help me.
As the fire consumed my home, I grabbed this diary, the only thing I had left from my parents, and threw it through the window.
Then...
I died.
The final words appeared alone on the page.
And somehow, this diary remained.