Vexilla's Diary

Chapter One: Don't Regret This

If the world were right side up the sky would be a cool black ocean and I would dive in to calm my nerves. But my world is currently upside down and i'm here.

I propped myself up on the wall and felt stitches in my abdomen- the feeling of sharp pain when you've been running past your limits. I wipe off the beads of sweat from my forehead and upper lip. I take like a dozen breaths every 5 seconds and finally catch my breath after 30 seconds. My black hair was falling in front of my face as I hunched. It was stuck to the back of my neck from the sweat. The night is warm to my dismay. The only thing cold was the wall, cold so cold. I put my back up against the wall and closed my eyes replaying what happened in my head.

When I have my moment I open my eyes. Something is shining at the end of the alley in the distance. The glare is gold and suspiciously strong for something shining without a light at night.

I'd normally leave these kinds of things alone, but something was drawing me to it, so I started towards it.

It is a diary, not just any diary, the kind of diary you'd see in the 17 hundreds or locked away in a princess's vault. It is cream-colored with a design you'd see from that period. I slowly reach for it.

Yes, this is a special book, I need to open this book.

I pick up the diary and look inside. Its pages are blank. I felt compelled to look deeper into the pages to find words when footsteps started walking into the alley.

Great, the nut is back for another chase. I could have sworn it was the same woman who was chasing me earlier. But as I turned around and investigated the darkness of the alley I am hiding out in; the woman is now wearing something different. No, as she came into the faint light coming from a sign- like a spotlight- it isn't the same woman at all.

Something told me I should hide the diary behind my back as she got closer.

She is now standing face to face with me, in a gilded gown and dark curled hair. The curls look like the kind you'd make with overnight curlers.

"Can I help you?" I ask, holding on to the book tightly behind me like it would grow wings and fly away.

"Yes, it appears you have something that belongs to me," she says, in an accent I could swear was British, but there was something different about it.

I thought of keeping to myself, but it felt wrong for a minute to keep someone else's belongings- almost like a spell had been broken. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise this belonged to you, you can have it back," I say, reaching my hand that was holding the book out to her.

Then it occurred to me. What if it wasn't hers? Why did it make me feel like I was under a spell? Is that why she wants it?

I pulled my hand that had the book in it away then up into the air, "Hold on a second, how do I know this is yours?" I ask. "You won't, you just have to believe me. Now please give it back," she answers, sounding more desperate.
I switch hands swiftly, as she struggles to get it from my high-up hands.

"Listen, girl, this is not some sort of toy. I need it to get back home to my time period," she blurts out.

"Your... time period? What do you mean by your time period?" I ask.

She immediately dropped her head down and started pacing wall to wall of the ally. She mumbled quickly: "oh I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have said that. That was a mistake. Stupid, stupid, stupid," she says to herself.

She turned to face me, "Well here's the thing girl, I'm from the gilded age. I've been jumping through time with that diary book," she explains. "Prove it," I say. "Can't you just give it back?" she asks. "Not until you prove that it's yours by showing me what you mean by that," I answer, not willing to give it up so easily.