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(c)2017 THEGIRLWITHEVILFACE
The rain poured heavily, then a cold whirl of breeze pounded harshly by the windows while the raindrops slid by the glassy window.
It sure feels dreary today.
I used to gaze at my window in awe while the rain comes pouring on an afternoon day. Its sound resonating the room, the relaxing breeze that gives you shiver and the smell of after rain.
Mom was acting peculiar. All of the sudden she orders me to look at the attic and organize the things stocked in there in the middle of November.
"Stupid dusty boxes," I grunted to myself seeing the stack of boxes pilling up with dust and cobwebs.
It might even take me a week to finish unravelling secrets hidden in these dozen of boxes.
Instead of nagging all day, I started to pick up the boxes that were pilled up and placed them down one by one.
I simultaneously placed them before I collapsed on the ground and coughed when I accidentally inhaled the dusts circulating around the room.
I lifted a random box and placed it on my lap, with my barehands, I wiped the dust away and opened the box slowly.
"Old CDs'," I uttered to myself, a hundred of old CDs' resting on a single box.
Do people even use CDs'?
I picked up a Michael Jackson album and smiled. "Dangerous 1991," I read the title aloud, then returned it to its box.
"Halloween Costumes," I eyed the second box that I opened and when I saw something crawling out of it, I threw the box with shriek in terror.
From the corner of my eye, I saw something that caught my gaze. Not far ahead was a small journal that was bright with designs consisting of terribly pasted rainbow and glitter stickers.
I bent and picked it up. Suprisingly it didn't smell like mold nor dust, it was as if it was new.
Is this my mom's journal?
Maybe.
So I reluctantly opened the journal and when I opened it I was greeted by a terrible bold handwriting.
It was entitled "Dear Marco".
My heart lurched from anxiety, fear, confusion and,
Doubt
There was no way this was my mother's journal. I instantly dropped the journal due to realization, my eyes staring immensely0 at the journal.
My fingers hesitate to touch it, but after a few seconds, I grabbed it and ran my fingers through the rough sheet.
It's hers.
I should've known right away from the poor quality, from over the top design and the way she wrote my name.
Like it was just yesterday when she was here.
I grasp the texture of the journal with my fingers, taking time to feel the roughness of it being written.
I began to flip to the second page.
Dear Marco,
I don't know if I am still there to read this with you, but bestie, you should know that I LOVE YOU with butterflies and rainbows and O-OHH! Lazer beam puppies and--yeah I--you know.
Soooooo~ ^___^ I wanted you to read how I thought about you, probably because you can't feel my presence. Dunno, not good at this "physiological" thing.
ANYWAYYYY-
I got into trouble and I saw you. I could clearly remember what you wore--obviously you always wore that wimpy red jacket (Do you wash it though?)
I shook my head in disbelief.
So yeah you hated me, I was so offended I screamed party in the house and you despised me :(((((((
But then when you helped me fought Ludooo (the dweeb) we became friends!!
. . .
Dear Marco,
You don't know that I revised this journal. I want to make it formal.
So here it goes.
You told me you had a crush on Jackie. I was suprised, I thought you were asexual or something but I was wrong. Finally there was something I could be of use to you. I could help you and Jackie. But Jackie is out of your league. Nevertheless, I keep praying for both of you.
. . .
Dear Marco,
You suddenly gave me a friendship bracelet. You don't know how happy I was that you considered me a good friend. No one ever gave me something like this.
Don't worry, I'll wear it no matter what happens. :)
. . .
Dear Marco,
Do you hear my heart racing? I hope not. I can't seem to stand around you. My heart palpitates and you make me queasy. But at the same time, when you are beside me, I am home.
Can you stop this? Can you help me?
I don't want to love you.
I'm scared that I'd be shattered.
"Star," I croaked, clutching the journal close to me. It would make me feel that she is here right beside me.
A tear trickled and the stitch in my heart began to rip open once more.
YOU ARE READING
STARCO DEAR MARCO |COMPLETED|
Fanfiction[C O M P L E T E D] J U N E 26,2017 (c)THEGIRLWITHEVILFACE Marco Diaz will never forget Star Butterfly. After being asked to clean around the attic, Marco finds a diary. It wasn't just any diary; it was the diary of Star Butterfly and it was entitl...
