The Stray Souls ["The Diary Keeper" Sequel; "The Dark Legacies" Series]

Chapter 10: Alive

Each of us has our own phantoms. They haunt us, disguising themselves as something else, convincing us that we don't notice them. Each one is unique and irreplaceable - our fears, our buried desires, our unconscious. The more we ignore them, the more they break free. They terrorize, destroy, erase us.

Within the depths of our individual psyches, clandestine ghosts lurk. They persistently trail our every step. They become agents of terror, agents of destruction, threatening to obliterate the very essence of who we are.

And, unfortunately, the phantoms in our minds are usually much scarier than those I've encountered in reality...

***
Two full weeks remained until my planned meeting with Michael Everglenn, as that was the only time he could speak with me face-to-face and possibly provide the dwindling hints I sought.

However, my schedule was packed even without this visit - between school, extracurricular activities in the photo club, work, friends, foes, Stormy the cat, and various life mayhem, another "quest" had emerged. This time, I didn't have to search for anyone on social media - they had already found me there.

The morning after my stroll through the underground labyrinth and the wine cellar, a message reached me. No, this time, fortunately, it wasn't from Jane. The sender was... Lorena Rivera.

Hello, Lia!
I'm from the same family that just left Di Flores Manor. Well, you know - the same house you almost inherited. I apologize for intruding, but there's a matter I need to discuss.

***
I met with Lorena on the same day after classes on neutral ground. We deliberately chose the most lonely place in Ravenwood, where no one could eavesdrop and send us into madhouse.

"Lia, is that you, if I'm not mistaken?"

"Do I really look that different from my photo online?" I chuckled, instantly recalling that I do use a lot of cosmetics and filters for photoshoots.

"I'm Lorena, nice to meet you," she was evidently very polite.

"Lorena, pleasure's mine. So, what brings you to Ravenwood?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation away from the peculiarities of Di Flores Manor.

She hesitated for a moment, then leaned in, lowering her voice. "Lia, have you ever heard those haunting cries echoing through the mansion?"

I feigned ignorance, shaking my head. "No, never. What do they sound like?"

Her eyes narrowed, gauging my sincerity. "They're like tortured whispers, chilling to the bone. My little brother has been scared out of his wits. There's something not right with Di Flores Manor, Lia."

My heart quickened, but I maintained a composed facade. "Strange. Maybe it's just the old house settling, you know how it is."

Lorena sighed, clearly not convinced. "I wish it were that simple, but there's an unsettling air about the place. My family left in a hurry, and I can't shake the feeling that Di Flores Manor holds secrets it's not willing to share."

They are guessing... Ordinary people, mere mortals who have no connection to magic. Even they understand that this doesn't bode well.

And I also realized one important thing - it's still really great to talk to a living person. People usually say that when comparing real-life communication to online messaging, but that's not what I'm talking about now. To be honest, hanging out with ghosts can get tiresome too.

***
I returned to the dormitory late in the evening. Of course, there was an unwritten essay, an unread book, an unfinished project waiting for me, but I didn't care because, first and foremost, I wanted to check my diary. Perhaps, I'll make a few entries there. Obviously, I expected the familiar blank canvas awaiting my thoughts. But...

The first page revealed a beautiful picture of a professional camera nestled in a bed of lush green grass. The details were intricate, down to the dew-kissed blades of grass and the soft play of sunlight on the camera's sleek surface. It was a snapshot that seemed to transcend the confines of a mere image, evoking a sense of tranquility and passion for the art of photography.

My living diary had not only decorated itself but had chosen a symbol that resonated with my interests and aspirations. My diary became a part of me. Now, it wasn't just gathering dust in my room - it led a life of its own. And not only it.

Di Flores Manor is alive. Its walls are alive. The very essence of this cursed house is a living organism. It breathed, it thrived, it refused to be put to rest. Its consciousness was unfathomable, yet it possessed a semblance of thought.

And the most terrifying part - it was more alive than some people living today, burying themselves beneath the weight of their perilous phantoms.