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

Chapter 11: What makes us human

I found myself on a small playground surrounded by other kids. Laughter echoed, games were in full swing, but there I was, standing on the sidelines, feeling like an outsider. They played tag, swung on swings, and I stood there, my anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

The other kids noticed me, and that's when it got worse. They started teasing and making fun, their words stinging like tiny arrows. I tried to act like I didn't hear, but every mock and jest felt like a punch. It was like being invisible in the middle of a crowd.

I wasn't myself; here, I felt like I was about five years old. And I had never seen such a playground before. Where am I? What am I doing here?

Suddenly, I woke up, and in that instant, I realized it was just a dream. The weight of the playground, the teasing kids, all faded away, leaving me with a sense of relief. The vivid scenes of my younger self dissipated as I opened my eyes to the reality of waking life.

The visions sent by Harper Clark... They've come to me again.

***
I was thinking about that nightmare during my lessons at school. It was like a stubborn guest overstaying its welcome in my head. I didn't even try to listen to a teacher. She was talking, but I was somewhere else, lost in my thoughts about that creepy dream.

To my mind, the nightmare reflected my biggest fear. Like a horror story made just for me. It just painted a vivid picture of the thing I'm most terrified of.

And my biggest fear? Ending up as nobody, just a puppet, a slave to what society wants me to be. I want to be me, not some version molded by everyone else's expectations. It's like being afraid of losing myself in a crowd, you know? Just blending in and forgetting who I really am.

That's the scariest thing for me. I'm afraid. I am truly afraid of this. And it's one of my biggest flaws.

But our flaws define who we are. They shape the intricate mosaic of our existence. Our vulnerabilities, our weaknesses, they're not blemishes but rather the very fabric of what makes us human. In our imperfections lies the beauty of our shared experience, the raw authenticity that connects us all.

Our fears are also a part of us. But are they truly ours, or merely a step in someone else's sinister plan?...

***
But all the bad stuff is sooner or later forgotten, and something else comes along. And finally, the day of meeting with... yes, that very same cousin of Harper, has come.

Mr. Everglenn's house was a small wooden cottage located in the largest private sector of Ravenwood. It didn't stand out among all the other buildings, but still gives off this cozy vibe.

It's not some fancy mansion grabbing attention; instead, it's like a friendly neighbor, blending in with the neighborhood. The warm glow peeking through the windows suggests a snug interior, making you imagine a fireplace and a cup of hot cocoa waiting inside.

I'm kind of stuck, not sure what to ask Michael Everglenn. It's like there's this invisible fence around certain memories, and I'm afraid poking at them will hurt him. It's tricky, you know? Those hidden stories from the past seem fragile, like delicate glass that might shatter if you touch it the wrong way. I want to know, but I'm scared to dig too deep. Memories can be like old wounds; sometimes, it's better to let them heal on their own.

I want to know about his past, about the things that shaped him, but I don't want to open wounds that might still be raw. It's a delicate dance, trying to understand someone's history without accidentally stepping on the landmines of their past.

I approached to the house, carefully knocked on the front door and it opened in a minute or so. In front of me on the doorstep appeared an old, wrinkled, yet smiling man. He looked to be around ninety years old.

"Hello, Liandra. You may come in."