Prologue + Terrible House Map

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I have no memories of my mother.
When I was little, I'd have dreams about her.
But, unfortunately, I cannot remember much of those dreams anymore.

My father doesn't talk about her, it's as if, even after all this time, the grief is still consuming him.
Lost in his own grief, he locked away every trace of her and refused to speak of her with anyone.

Because I had so few memories of her,
I used to ask him about the woman we had both lost, but the old pain would simply overwhelm him anew and the last thing I wanted to do is hurt him any further, so I stopped asking.

That was until about a year ago, when I was searching the attic for treasure when I found a portrait of the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

My Mother.

Her snow white skin,
her blonde, almost a white platinum hair,
her smile that seemed to light up the world around her, and my own blue eyes that reflected back at me.

Now her face haunts my dreams.

I knew that if my father saw it, he would hide it away, just like how he hides everything else.

It feels like everything in my life is a secret.
My mother, even my own relatives, this house that I was born in.

But what scares me isn't the voices I hear at night when I'm trying to sleep. The faint whispers, calling out to me, calling for me.
It's not even the feeling of eyes on me at all times, it's not even that my father doesn't believe me.

What scares me is the notes I've started finding.

- Aisha

Here's a terrible map of the mansion

I am going to say, the first couple chapters aren't the best because I had never written actual book chapters before so it's kind of lacking but later chapters I have gotten a lot better at writing so they are a lot better

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I am going to say, the first couple chapters aren't the best because I had never written actual book chapters before so it's kind of lacking but later chapters I have gotten a lot better at writing so they are a lot better.

Aisha: The Secret Of The DiaryOnde as histórias ganham vida. Descobre agora