June 9, 2009
Diary,
I have a story to why I have been absent.
Mark has died... he got in a car crash and bled to death. Oh no... poor little Justine. She's going to be five next week and now she doesn't have a father with whom to spend her birthdays.
Molly, his wife, is a wreck. His funeral service is on Sunday. I will miss him dearly. I've known him since we were both just in kindergarten. I have been numb these past couple of days. The boss told me to take some days off from work at the office, at least until after the funeral. It will be hard to cope with this loss, but I believe I will come through all this with my head held high. -A small trickle of blood is shown on the side of the page- Oh my, a paper cut... such trivial little things...tiny, thin, they heal in less than an hour if they are treated right, but they bleed like the dickens until they do. Agh, that memory...They only sting, but you can always feel them nagging at you for the time they're there. Also, the blood... it has that same taste of the blood in my memory. Most people find the taste too metallic. No one tastes the sweet side of the bodily fluid.
What am I saying? It is revolting! Such a barbaric thing to do, drink blood, to say it's sweet... even if it is.
YOU ARE READING
Yellow, Crinkled, Inviting Pages
HororHello Diary, My name is Daniel Franklin. I just got this leather beauty of a book in a garage sale. Its covers are smooth and black. The pages, yellowed and antique in texture...no doubt a detail I will become fond of as time goes on.
