A Rose as Black as your Heart

(5) The diaries

Chapter 5

When I got home, Matt seemed to have forgotten about our argument, for which I was relieved. I didn’t tell him I’d seen Daniel, or that I now knew about this mysterious ‘cult’. I didn’t want to bring up the argument again.

Instead, I made my way up to my room, pushing open the door and promptly slipping over on my butt- again. I really needed to ask Matt to change this carpet.

As I scrambled to my feet, I noticed the small cardboard box lurking under my bed that I’d come across under my bed in Canada. I hastily reached over and tugged out the box, pulling off the lid. The books inside were still coated in dust, but it had been marked with Savannah and mine’s fingerprints, and the dust had flurried around the box. I picked up the first book, blowing more dust off it, and noticed on the first page, a tiny date inscribed in a neat italic drawl: 1900.

My eyebrows flew up. They were over a hundred years old. Carefully setting it aside, I checked the date of the next one. 1899. The next one was also dated 1899. The last one was 1898.

Staggered, I brushed off the dust and carefully peeled open the oldest book. The pages were frail and yellowed with age. I felt like they might tear if I didn’t handle them carefully enough. Knowing me, I probably wouldn’t.

Bridgewood, England
21st March, 1898

My eyebrows flew up, and I gasped involuntarily. How could a couple of diaries I’d found in Canada be based here?  What kind of creepy coincidence was that?

Feeling more than a little uneasy, I began to read again.

Today was my 18th birthday. Father gave me this notebook and told me I may find myself wanting to write down my experiences. I was confused, but grateful. He then took me outside and told me what I was. What I always have been, but what I never realised. I now realise why I need this notebook, and what he meant when he said I might want to write down my experiences.

I’m filled with such confusion, such fear, such awe. Father says he shall help me do my job, as it is his too, and shall be for as long as he lives. But when he dies, the job shall be passed to me, and only me. I’m terrified at the thought .I don’t know if I’d be able to cope. How am I going to keep this a secret from Mother? I would be burned at the stake if anyone else ever found out, for they’d think of me as a witch. How the ones I’m suppose to... hunt have lasted this long is a miracle. They don’t exactly hide their doings.

I must make sure no one ever finds this diary. If they do, any chance of helping the people of this town, and ridding it of the monsters that prowl unbidden through the street, are dashed.

The entry for the day ended, leaving me feeling thoroughly confused. Couldn’t the writer- whoever he or she was- have added a bit more detail? What were they? What job did they have? A job that no one else could find about? I couldn’t even tell the writers gender, though I guessed she was a woman- could men get burned at the stake for being witches?

I re-read it quickly. ‘He then took me outside and told me what I was. What I always have been, but what I never realised.’ It made her sound like some sort of monster or fairytale creature. What the hell?