In a quiet coastal town, a mysterious journal is found, tucked between the pages of a random book. It belongs to an explorer who vanished a century ago while searching for a mythical island believed to grant immortality. The journal, filled with cry...
Latin. I find the language awfully appealing. Perhaps I will write all my entries using it. After all, one can never trust another. Who knows what might happen if someone gets their hands on it? A lot of unwanted gossip, yes, and as captain, that is something I cannot afford. Most of them are morons, without anything even remotely similar to a quality education, or even a basic one. The thought amuses me. Hmm.
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IT WASN'T LONG BEFORE SERAPHINA BEGAN TO QUESTION HERSELF.
She had accidentally stepped into a puddle and wet her dress, something which annoyed her more than it should have. Her hands were clenched tightly at her sides. A few people threw some rather disgusting looks her way, making her increase her speed, so that five minutes later, she was all but jogging towards the Library.
If all these distractions hadn't been weighing on her, she might've gotten a chance to adore the beautiful scenery around her. The moon, high up in the sky, shining down upon her as it glinted and shimmered like a mirage, and the beautifully enticing stars, forming countless patterns, constellations, and hints, spread over the vast horizon. The fog made it hard to discern them, but she knew they were there, watching over the sleeping world.
At last, after what seemed like an eternity, she arrived at the Library. Finally. Finally. She stopped to catch her breath, huffing from the unwanted exercise her body just had to suffer through. She could've been sitting in bed, watching the candlelight lamps flicker around her, allowing sleep to teleport her somewhere far, far away. And yet, that journal, which had somehow become the bane of her existence, would not have let her sleep. She didn't know how to comprehend this sudden obsession she had with it. It was almost bizarre. Eerie. It had nothing to do with her, and yet, she found herself enraptured by its rather mysterious aura.
She scrambled with her keys, feeling the familiar cold make her body shiver and her teeth chatter. After three failed tries, finally, however, she managed to unlock the doors and burst in, closing them behind her. But then, suddenly, she realized that it was...dark.
Pitch black.
For a second, she could not breathe, and her airways seemed to have been blocked, the silence becoming a bit too much. It was as if her lungs had decided to mutiny against her, and refuse to draw in the oxygen she so desperately needed. She clawed at her neck, sighing deeply, and yet, it did nothing to aid her obviously visible distress. Panic started boiling up her body, rendering logic and reason useless. She looked for something - anything - to provide comfort and a source of light, but it was nothing more than grasping at straws.
If she had a mirror to look at herself, she would see her eyes wide and scared, like a cornered deer as the vicious lion approaches, and her lips trembling, quivering like a little child's who has not yet figured out how to cry. Seraphina would see her skin pale, and her neck slightly red from when she scratched it as a silent plea for help. She would find herself completely at a loss.
