Whisper

Chapter 2, This is Me

I stab the wall with the tip of the push pin, trapping the sheet of paper beteen them. Gathering the rest of the pages from my messenger bag, I begin to arrange each sheet on the wall. After I've finished, I take a step back and examine my work. Taking the crimson yarn in my hand, I tie a knot around the head of one push pin and wrap it around the next. This eventually leads to my wrapping one segment of yarn around all pushpins holding up evidence connected with the handiman.
Sighing as I look to the clock that is hanging to the right of me, seeing that it is two thirty AM, I position myself atop the pillow infested mess that is my bed, towards the wall of which I had jut been working on. As I examine the locations of which I'd tacked up on the wall, I pull out a folded sheet of poster paper, and began to mark off various locations. Choosing a highlighter from the jar sitting across from me wedged inbetween two pillows, I jot down a note on the side of which areas of the map are to be explored with caution, and others that may need to be revised after the events that occurred last night.
In remembrence of these same events I step over to the open window and gaze out into the night sky wondering if Maggie shared the same fate as the kid that was found last night. He had supposedly been missing for a few days now. As I slowly migrate back to my bed, I speculate on weather this victim was the only one who may have been killed this way; if the other victems had infact been eliminated in this very same fashion, why haven't they been found? It seems logical enough that one of them should have been sighted already, it is after all a small town. Now realizing that there could be more property owners, much like the McKeys, who have witnessed strange occurances leading uup to some of the other disapperances. Following my instinct on this, I head downstairs to explore the possibility that such places do indeed exist. I look around me to the cluster of cardboard boxes that may contain the key to finding Maggie.
After shuffling through papers for a few hours, I come accross something rather odd inside one of these same boxes, a book. I stare at the object in my hands for a few moments before gathering up the courage to look at its contents. Slowly opening the chocolate brown leather binding, I taake a moment to admire the craftmanship of this little book. As I flip through the pages I find that this is not a book, but a diary. Growing more curious by the second I examine the top corners of some pages, and skimming through the rest, only to find that this is a diary of which, that its last entry was dated August 9, 1807.
In my hands I hold what may have been once a long lost diary from a girl no older than myself, which is now an old book, filled with historic events from over two centuries ago. Overcome with the ever present feeling curiosity brewing inside me, I begin to read the first entry, dated October 17th 1805. Knowingly that most of the passage will be jibberish from a teenage girl, I skimm over the page pausing only a few seconds at a time to examine outliars in the common topics. Noticing that there doesn't seem to be any mention of whose this book was I began to flip from cover to cover of the book, eventually resorting to the internet. My breath stiffens as I scroll through the results of my search, and am astonished to find that one link had proven to be helpfull, the headline of the article from one of the local papers from about a century ago read, The Tragic Mystery of Sarah Stone, and The Legend of Her Missing Diary. Admiring the headline, particularly the fact that the supposed owner of this diary had the last name, Stone.
Seating myself apon the crimson desk chair once again, I enter 'Stone' into the search bar of an ancestry tracing websites. When the shaded circle in the middle of the page dissapears I gasp in astonishment as I find the capacity of the results for just pines itself. Pulling up the tab labled in sky blue, titled Family Tree, I scroll down to the bottom, findng my name even listed, I pull up an article that had been focused on the actions taken by my class to preserve the Misty Side Woods on earth day a few years ago. Clicking the backward arrow at the top of the server's window, I click on the print button on that page, as well as on a few other articles.
Now climbing the stairs to the attick once again, I grab a new carton of push pins, and press each individually into one of a few articles from the websie. Having arranged these separately on the side, I pick up a roll of ducktape and form a distinct line between the two. I do this knowingly of the fact that both collections will grow and most likely be needing to be re-located to another wall, due to the lack of space on the one. Placing the last sheet of paper above the news articles with a single tack, I step back and look at the magnificent family line that I come from. My ancesters weren't just common people in socioty like most were, they were farmers, doctors, home buisness owners, one was even mayor of Pines at one point. However it seems troubling that no one ever cared to mention any of this to me.
When you discover something great about your family that you never knew before, it seems amazing, but not at the same time; it's like saying, hey, you are a decendent from the Pines mayor of 1867, too bad no one ever told you. It just seems to be so unbelivevly underwelming that there was this big secret about my family, and no one even bothered to tell me. Not my parens, not my grandparents, not even my great-grandparents. Which is also kind of odd cnciderng the fact that every time I saw them they always seemed to be telling stories, yet this seems to be the story of most intrest to me anyway.
It could be possible that some of the events were so long ago that everyone just may have forgotton, or lost the idea in general. I guess if you think about it, if I had known about this my whole life I would probably end up as an egotistical pop child. Perhaps it was better fr me not to now this after all, if you think of it what does a kid do with information like that, they brag about it to their friends, classmates, well everyone who will listen. Then eventually people would stop listening, and like all popular kids I would have fallen, and since I wouldn't have developed the skills that I have to protect myself, that I wouldn't have been able to, and who knows what would've happened then.
From looking over the article a few times I could tell that this was indeed her diary, and I could tell that it is no mistake that it ended up here. Stone is not only my last name but also the name of my ansesters leading up to Sarah, henseforth she was my great-great-great-great-great-great-aunt. Being back in my room, I settle in between two throw pillows, and begin to page through the book.