JOURNAL #37
The End
Yeah. The end. Or pretty close to it, anyway. The battle for Halla is over. For sure
this time. No more surprises. No more twists. No more false hope. It's done. I promise.
I guess it's not a big surprise to say that I'm still around. Not that my survival was a
lock or anything, it's just that if my existence had ended, I wouldn't be writing this,
would I?
Still, a very big question remains. What's next? What will become of me now that my
job as a Traveler is complete? Things aren't the same. The battle with Saint Dane has
altered Halla, and I'm no longer sure what my place is. The future I'm looking at now
scares me more than anything I've encountered over the past few years. That's really
saying something.
So I guess I lied. It's not really the end. The final chapter of the existence of Bobby
Pendragon has yet to be written. I know that I will have to deal with that at some point,
but not just yet. Before I can face the future, I must first deal with the past.
I'm writing this journal in a small, sparse room that has become my temporary home.
I have no idea how long I'll be here. My guess is that I'll be allowed to stay for as long
as it takes to finish this journal. I'm not sure if I should pick up the pace and get it done,
or string this out for as long as possible to avoid dealing with the next phase of life. As
always, there's a certain comfort that comes from writing these journals. I think that's
because when I write, I already know what happened. Writing is safe. There are no
surprises. Though reliving these events is reassuring, it can also be painful. I'd just as
soon forget about much of what has happened to me and my friends. But that's not the
point. Writing isn't just about Bobby therapy. It's about documenting what has
happened on my adventure through time and space. This is what I do. It's what I've
always done. Why stop now? The last chapter needs to be written.
Whoever you are, reader, if you're up to speed and have seen my previous journals,
you'll know that I didn't have many opportunities to sit and write. Things were
happening too fast. It wasn't until I found myself in this room that I could take a breath,
collect my thoughts, and get it all down. I wrote several of my previous entries here as
well. I deliberately concluded my Journal #36 where I did because it seemed like a
natural place to finish one major chapter before beginning another. When I spin my
memory back to that moment, it's with mixed emotions.
I was at the lowest point imaginable. Second Earth was lost. Scores of people had
been sucked into a monstrous flume created by Alexander Naymeer. Mark and
Courtney were gone. Patrick Mac was killed. Alder was killed. Saint Dane's
