The History Divided

PROLOGUE:

The day they came to tell me that my father had been murdered, I had made a discovery. You see, I've never been one to pry. But my father had been so secretive. And around here, people become suspicious. I've never given a thought about my fathers' business. But that changed when I saw him out with another women. An ugly one at that. She had brown hair, like a dying leaf in the autumn season. Her teeth was crooked. She was really short. Like up to my breast short.

Anyway, I wouldn't had given it a second thought about my dad with a withering hag. But I then saw them kiss. And that was when I decided to break into my fathers study.

*************

They say to leave a man to his own business. They bring the money, have jobs, and protect the family. And frankly, I didn't give a hoot about that 'moral rule' at the moment.

In his study, he had a dark leather chair imported from Italy. I've never been outside Alabama in my whole life. His desk was Brown Auburn, one of the finest oak in the wilds of southern land. Papers we're strewn across his desk. Old documents yellowing at the corners. They looked as if one touch they would collapse to tiny ashes. I opened a drawer and found a journal. It was a boring, plain brown. I opened it and immediately recognized my fathers messy handwriting. I flipped through the pages, stiff from much use.

As I flipped through the pages, a paper fluttered out. It gracefully twirled to the ground. I picked it up and unfolded it. The handwriting was foreign and the words were written in a different language. On the margins, I noticed that my father was trying to encrypt the ,which looked a letter. The first words were, "To whom it may concern". I skimmed down and stopped at the words, "the mystical creatures are all around us. They could be your neighbour, even your own child. Be warn of the signs. Shimmering hair, hunger not sufficed with food,..."

It went on describing different signs. I wondered what the letter meant. What was my father working on? What meaning did this letter have to a hardworking historian, like my father? This all sounded unnatural. No one talked about this. It was written like it was a recipe to some sort of pie.

"Kealiygh Robinson!"

I flinched at my name being called. Who knew I was up here? I slowly put the journal back and walked out of the study. I picked up the hem of my skirt and quickly walked downstairs.

Our housekeeper, Linda was standing by the door. She moved revealing two uniformed officers.

"Is something wrong?" I asked. One of the officers removed their hat.

"Ms. Robinson?" He asked.

"Yes, sir. That's me," I replied.

"We have... We have some unfortunate news..."

TO BE CONTINUED...

Did you like? Vote, comment, fan! Thanks guys! :)