Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
『 chapter xxi: A GHOST SPEAKS ! 』
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
THE SIXTEEN YEAR-OLD GIRL SITS ON HER BED, theres a nice-looking chocolate Labrador at the foot of it, resting his little doggy mind to a peaceful sleep while his owner, the girl, has a mind troubled with dreams that weren't nightmares but dreams — vague and intangible with the possibility of being misinterpreted many ways. The girls eyes are a lovely shade of cerulean in the dim lighting of the cinnamon scented candles that adorn her room. She sits cross-legged as a thick, brown leather journal is in front of her. She got it from her trivial grandmother who she hadn't seen weeks, per usual, the guilt and the contempt of giving her the fate she'd meet soon ( a fate she desperately wanted to change, now ) and hadn't opened it since. The girl takes a shuddering breath before she moves her hand to open the book. It's old, ancient, years and years sitting on a shelf collecting dust as life went on ever changing but the words in it stayed the same.
June, the girls name is, opens the leathery book. At the top it has the name of a dead girl who June's stolen the face of — MELANIE ALU CAPOTE. The girl whom is alive touches the photo of the dead girl that she's taped to the side of the sleeve. June had held back, she didn't want to face reality so soon. She had been living in a dream with her boyfriend, the savior, the fighter, the one who made her take back anything she ever thought about wanting to die. June swallows the choking feeling she has, she can't dwell on it like she used to without getting a sickening sadness that had all the dying flowers in her room bloom to life, and subsequently scatter her thighs and arms with those painful and purple bruises. June goes to the book again, skimming, seeing the false name on a false family tree. It should say Capote and it doesn't, it's just Blackthorn.
Not even three pages in, there's a journal entry. June's eyes shift to the date and the writing of it, it's tender and she'd love to see someone write her a love letter in that kind of calligraphy. It's her writing. Melanie's. June feels a chill on her skin looking at it, words from the grave, from another time and from a ghost. This is the only way June would ever hear her speak. June recognizes it's written in Quileute but she's spent her fair share learning the language just as well as any tribe member should, the words are comprehended just as easily as English would be.
