Owl's Glint

Another day and another way from the Pretty Patties find some stupid prank to pull on me. Almost every day they seem to come up with different ways to torture me just for “the laughs” as they say. It’s been exactly three years since I moved here and close to two years when they started all this pranking business on me but today on the other hand was mute for them. Just to steal my umbrella in gym class seems a bit mediocre compared to dumping a whole box of raw egg whites in my hair a few days ago. Oddly enough everything they do is overshadowed by just the mere sight of Darwin standing at my front door today. Walking in the soaping rain to see him at the door sent shudders in my heart and who would have guessed with such a sweet delicate face he has can change so quickly to a full bouquet of roses just by seeing me wet from the rain.

Now with that page done, I flipped over to the other side and it was a blacked-out side. Strange but I think my Grandma Zi might have another diary to finish out my daily entry. She is bound to have one considering she loves collecting books and part of the house is a storefront for her Voodoo Emporium. Scurry downstairs to see if she is in the shop I can’t but overhear her talking to somebody about a “Malignant Tumor” and something about an empty bank. Crouching by the stairs, I can see her talk to Darwin about the medical procedure and the cost of everything. As she is describing the tumor and the location I can but help feel a sense of dread come over me as I had years before. The safety of this spot is starting to become everything even though it’s the first time we meet. Then Grandma Zi words rang in my head, “dread is just fear trying to win over courageousness”. I slowly walked downstairs with quivering feet to see the delight on my Grandma's face.

I asked her if anything is wrong and with a quick response, she shot down the notion of anything afoot. The look on Darwin's face tells me otherwise and I can’t help to think that she will leave me like mother did. Another ring comes through my head and screams “Diary” breaking the notion of depression taking hold of me. I ask her if she has an extra journal or diary that I can have because I ran out of pages in my diary. With a smile, she tells me that “I write my than a baboon picking flees from its newborns back”. Darwin and I laugh at how ridiculous that sounds while we both thinking about how concern we are about her health. She tells me that in the attic is where she has spare diaries and journals that she collected over time. I can have one if it's empty and doesn’t come from the vermilion chest under her old blankets.

With extreme haste, I hug Grandma Zi tightly and wave bye to Darwin as I ran upstairs whilst all the time giving him the cutest stare I could. Going up the fleet of stairs, I can’t help but look back to see Darwin's face color change brighter than before and hearing Grandma Zi calling his name with no prevail. Going the attic felt longer than it normally does and even opening the door to that dark shutter of space was ominous. Maybe it’s because of lugging this lump on my back or the minuscule lung I was given but just a few more steps just get a new diary.

As I entered the attic, a sickening chill fills the breeze gusting through me from the still air in this place. All I want to do is leave this attic, but another ring goes through my head, “those that quit are those that choose to stay the same and in order to grow you must change”. Her words once again push me to move forward and what is the worst thing that can be here in the attic except for spiders or wispy wind. I started to hunt for the diaries through all of Grandma's belongings to only get lost in how much time I spent in the attic.

Bleeding time away in the attic, with no luck for the fruits of my labor, I can hear Grandma call out stating that she will be going to her doctor appointment with Darwin accompanying her. I yelled out confirmation to no reply. After searching through the sixth oriental box, twelfth arabinan bag, and second bookshelf I found only books filled with words I know, don’t know, or don’t think those are even words than I spot a corner of a bookshelf with a gap of books thinking maybe that must be the spot. I dredge through all the belongings Grandma owns to slip forward into a pile of books on the vermilion chest.

Picking myself up off the books, I notice that a small black notebook with a stiff leather winkle exterior is the perfect travel size for me to write on the go. Opening the notebook hoping it would be completely empty and to my surprise, it was empty with indigo-colored pages with not that many pages, good even space black lines the front and back, plus a sturdy binding it seems that this book is the ideal notebook to convert to my new diary. Grandmother always tells me that I’m unique and special so now I have a journal that represents it now.

Ready to finish today’s entry, I start writing but the pages didn’t hold the ink or refuse to take to my pen. Thinking maybe this pen is broken, I close the notebook and I write on my hand to see the black ink shows perfectly fine. Opening the notebook again, I see writing on the inner fold that reads:

“Tell me your Truth and I’ll tell you mine.”

“Let’s swap Stories and thy Sorrows heal with time.”

“Write your Words to fill me with Sight and Glee.”

“In return, I will grant you three wishes for free.”

“Start by telling me your name with honesty and it will be fine.”

“I’ll grant one extra wish with modesty as you sign.”

At the very end of the poem, there are two “X” indicators with a line that has next to the top “Name” and the bottom “Wish”.

This notebook must be a gag or something from overseas that Grandma found and forgot about it. Thinking I’ll play along whilst writing my name in the indicated space as “Minerva C. Gauss” and for the wish, I think it’s best I use it to help Grandma Zi as much as possible. The past three years living with her is better than living with my father and his greedy destructive nature towards us. As for the first wish I put “I wish Grandma Zi didn’t have any sickness or illness”. This the final stroke of the pen, nothing happened as I expected, and I was in complete silence.

Closing the book and heading downstairs with great disappointment, I decided to go to my room and search my room for a working pen for the pages. Entering the room, I get the urge to open the notebook and try again with the pen I already have. To my surprise, the ink on the page changed to this slick white ink for my name and this rough harsh brown ink for the wish. Thinking this might be the gag, I started to finish the entry I did in my diary, another wave of dread come over me but this time I ignore it while playing back the words of my Grandmother. Grandmother says, “when you get a feeling of negativity, write it down to let it out” and that I must do.

Darwin is the sweetest boy I have ever met and to my findings, we are the exact same age give or take a few months. This year will make both of us eighteen when the high school year-end this July and I can wait until the summer when he comes around more. Not knowing if he looks at me because of my or the lumps on my back makes me wish I was gorgeous enough for him to look at me with deep love. I know he comes to learn from my Grandmother about her voodoo expertise that she gathered from all over the world and not specifically for me. She tells me traveling the world is a gift to your soul instead of another place to vacation. Traveling to the middle of Africa all the way to the freezing temperatures of the South Pole and she gave that up for me three years ago to take care of me. She switches jobs for me and I’m thankful that she did but if it wasn’t for an evil in the world it wouldn’t need to happen. I only wish we don’t need to worry about money anymore but because of my father's greed and violate nature my Grandma had to stop living her life.

The Pretty Patties are terrible people but the beating and humiliation from my father don’t compare in the least. The torment they did to me isn’t even equal such as egg in my hair verse force to sleep in a makeshift dog house with nails sticking me every night, stealing my umbrella forcing me to walk the rain verse beating me with a studded belt, or even making a rumor that my hunchback is a giant water sack filled with period blood verse kicking me every time I spoke a word or not barking like a dog. They both are terrible people that deserve the worst of the worst. I wish they can’t do anymore torment to anybody.

I quickly close the diary in a frantic rage staring at the notebook in disbelief that I could write something like this. Never have I ever felt such rage or resentment toward anybody, but it felt as if something was pulling the strings of my hand to express my true feelings. Frantic sound breaks my concentration from the notebook to the phone and with quick reflexes, I answer it with a brash “HELLO”. It was my Grandmother and she spoke softly stating, “I have good news and bad news Minerva.” I couldn’t respond back before she stated that her tumors are gone followed with my mother left in her will that I would receive all her earnings when I’m eighteen in payments of twenty thousand dollars. Now the bad is my father was killed in prison by other inmates for murdering my mother. My mind turned deft with my body motioning to turn on the tv. The news came on stating three young girls’ murders in their home today at the Patties’ Residence.

In complete disbelief that the wishes worked but my beauty surely had to change as well. Running to the mirror hoping to see some glimpse of beauty but in turn, I see a cataclysm of shadow figures and a being pure white color looking at me. Stuck in this position my body heats up with unfathomable pain coursing throughout my veins. Hearing the snapping, contorting, and twisting of flesh and bone all the while keeping a gaze on the being. The being of white shape starts to conform to this gorgeous female and she explains the images I’m seeing are her story. Her voice rings over the crunching of my bones bone, “Opal is my name and that book is my binding”. She moves closer reaching through the mirror to touch my cheek whispering, “Thank you for your wishes and you know what I wish for”. With the cease of this twisted torment I hear, “I wish for”.