Rose Bloom

Prologue: Part 2

I know that the prologue is usually written at the beginning of the book, but I couldn’t finish it at the beginning. Don’t ask me why! I just couldn’t! So here is the rest of it! And if you’re still annoyed, you might as well skip this chapter.

 Dear Diary,

       Sorry I didn’t write the date, but recently, I can’t keep track of time. I don’t know what’s wrong with me! I’ve been like this for a week (more or less, like I said, I can’t keep track of time anymore), since I cough a cold. Actually, David calls it a cold, but I’m not convinced it’s a cold. I mean, what sort of cold strikes you all of a sudden and makes you faint? Plus, I didn’t have any symptoms. There’s something fishy going on!

I haven’t seen my son since that day, and now I can’t even communicate! At least I can write. David’s more than worried. He hired ten doctors, but none of them could find out what sort of ‘cold’ I have or what’s wrong with me. But David thinks it has to do with the Deal. I looked surprised, because I had no idea what he was talking about, so he explained.

“Well, when we first moved in, I got a suspicious gift from an old woman who named herself Joan. It was your necklace. A year later she came and made an offer. She said she’d give us everything and anything we wanted in life: a job, money, a family, friends, and in return we must help her complete a legend.”

I wanted to know more, but the doctor said I needed rest. And now, I can’t sleep, so I decided to write this down. Writing is my second hobby, besides art. Wait…are those footsteps?”

 Miranda (in case you haven’t realized whose diary it was) got up and listened carefully. A noisy laughter made itself heard, and a hag appeared in her room. Yes, it was Joan, or as Miranda had put it her high-school enemy. David must have heard her too, because he came in running.

“So, David, I’ve helped you, now it’s your turn! The legend must be completed or otherwise you dear wife will…well you know what I mean.” Joan said.

Miranda ripped a page out of her diary and scribbled something, then showed it to Joan.

“What legend?” it read.

Joan whispered something to Miranda, probably the legend or the key to it. Poor Miranda looked petrified. She wrote something else on that page.

“I can’t do that, and I never will! You can try to threaten me, but it won’t work! I’m not afraid of death!”

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” Joan said with a cruel smile. “It’s not death you face! It’s nothing!”