The Journalist

Prologue

She wears strength and darkness equally well,  the girl has always been half goddess,  half hell.

Prologue

October had arrived and so had Mrs. Raynott’s hope of seeing her unborn child being born and the hope she would experience the joys of mother from the start again but it would be different because this time it was a girl.
Mr. and Mrs. Raynott, the Duke and duchess of Oxford were intelligent people, to say the least, and they both (only the duchess for a matter of fact) hated creative people. Writers in her Grace’s opinion were part of the lowest classes of the society and Journalists did not even belong to any society in her thoughts.
The Duke remaining busy managing the Hotel Empire, several other companies and estates never had the time, the energy or the heart to argue with his one and only love. He was contented with his life – he had a doting wife and a prodigal heir in the form of eight year old William, their first-born son. But soon much more happiness was added to his life when his wife had announced she was pregnant almost 8 years after William’s birth. Soon he got to know that his second love is going to be born soon- his daughter.
Celebrations were continuously being held since the declaration that it was a girl as after 5 generations a girl was being born into the family.
October 10th was a weary day, not a day when one would expect good news and it was the same for Raynott family. Her grace had been in the hospital for a week as a precaution and she knew in her heart that this child would not be easy and it was not easy. A mother only wants to see her child cry once and that is when the child is born, but her grace’s wish was not fulfilled as their beautiful baby girl did not cry. But was born with a still expression covering her face.
It was past midnight, day had given to night, dates had changed and the mother was inconsolable but for the father, the grief was double of not only losing his child but also the fear of losing his wife to grief. On the other side of the wall of the room they were in, a child would not stop crying. As a mother’s heart would clench, her graces heart too showed the same movement.
She asked her husband to push the wheelchair she was confined to, to the room of the crying victim and there she saw a red headed newborn girl crying as if were mourning someone long lost. The nurse told them that from the time she was born, at midnight, she won’t stop crying and no nurse could quiet her, her mother had died in the delivery room and they were waiting for someone to claim her.
“Give the girl to me, I will try to quiet her.” Her grace said on listening this and then the room was filled with deafening silence as soon as she picked up the girl.
Her grace, looked at her serene face, smiled and said “My love, I think we have found Haley Raynott. She is Haley Raynott.”
**********in the future ***********
All he could see was darkness in his haze of running nothing clear, a man stuck in an old memory. His feet were disturbing the silence around him but all he could hear was his pulse that was shooting up every moment passing by, he found himself turning on to the same familiar alley and getting nervous finding the same familiar blank wall indicating a dead end. His mother's voice echoing through his brain saying the same line "There are no dead ends just fear stopping us from climbing". He fell to the ground not having the strength to climb, to escape.

Zacharias abruptly sat up waking up from his nightmare, his heart was beating rapidly. His slightly curly black hair were damp and stuck to the back of his neck.

He closed his eyes for a minute trying to calm down the beating of his heart and steady his breathing.Every single night,he thought, of every week he had gotten this nightmare. Memories are supposed to make you feel happy and secure, not haunt you every night,consuming you with guilt.He checked the watch on his nightstand, it was 5 in the morning.It was of no use to try to sleep and return to his world of nightmares.

He closed his eyes again trying to find peace in his chaotic mind,something that was next to impossible for him.Dying that night would have been easier, he thought, it would have been less painful, less heartless,death would have just hurt him for a moment while life had condemned him to millions of moments of hurt.

He reached out for his laptop that was still on the other side of his bed and started typing, writing the week's editorial column because writing was the only task that helped him get his mind off his past and present.