LAMIAE

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN: DIARY OF LIFE AND DEATH

She didn't go to class that day. She returned to the residence alone by bus number 4. When she arrived the house, no one was inside, neither Casper, nor Arleta, Sandra, or (although she didn't expect this in the slightest) her grandmother. She couldn't even find Tie anywhere.

She ate her second breakfast in silence. She didn't feel like turning on the TV or radio, she immediately ran to her room.

Upstairs, she decided to focus her thoughts on anything but Alan and what she had discovered. Even if she had to pack up and go to Warsaw, it would be better than losing herself in thoughts. In truth, she was afraid of this discovery and if she could, she would erase it from her memory completely. Luckily for her, something helped her move her thoughts away from this morning.

There was a rather thick hardcover box on her dressing table. Dagmara took it in her hand, although not with the intention of opening it, but to see if it was signed, to find out who it belonged to.

She looked at the box from all sides, slowly accepting the idea that she would have to look inside it anyway if she wanted to discover its owner. It was immaculate. A cardboard box with a drawn bouquet of flowers in the foreground, placed in a wicker basket. These flowers, roses and others, were of different colors, but all of them were a shade of red. The box held something inside and to get to it, you had to pull a golden bow. Dagmara untied the box, being careful not to damage anything. She saw a square hardcover notebook with the same flowers in the basket as on the box. She didn't even have to look inside, she had suspicions that she had just stumbled upon someone's diary, as in the lower right corner there was an inscription: journal.

Whoever left the diary must have done it on purpose. She removed Casper from her small list of suspects, the only one who was currently living with her and who had the greatest opportunity to do so, because if he wanted to give her the diary, why would he do it now and not earlier?

With an uncertain look on her face, she opened the cover and saw the words carefully written in black ink:

Victoria Orante,

A diary of my life and my death.

Her eyes widened at what she saw. Victoria... it couldn't have been a coincidence, especially since the inscription under her name and surname left no doubt.

The decision not to look further into the diary burst faster than a soap bubble.

Only those whose memories are worth remembering write diaries.

Actually, they are nothing special, but they have that beautiful magic that makes it impossible to put them back on the shelf. Revealing a piece of the soul of another living creature. Getting to know their innermost secrets and desires. In fact, looted knowledge is what attracts us.

However, fools are those who think they have discovered something they should not know. Every person who keeps a diary of their own life counts on the fact that it will be read someday, whenever.

Dagmara breathed deeply, sitting down in a chair. The reading she found herself in gave her the necessary break from the outside world and also the opportunity to move into the one that no longer exists, although once, not so long ago, it was so realistic and alive.

This story starts like any other. It is about ordinary people who face extraordinary things. About normal behavior but paranormal abilities. That day I asked my friend what he would do if his whole life suddenly turned upside down. He replied that he would walk on clouds and believe grass as inaccessible as the sun. That he would sleep on the moon and devote his days to his favorite activity of sorting the stars. He would have left some where they were, as they are too bright and far away to catch. Half of them he would plunder into a big sack. I asked why? And he said: to show them to the people they belong to. Because half of the unfortunates do not realize what power they have. That their lights are these stars. They exist, but remote, undiscovered, and never used, they will slowly burn out.

Talking to him gave me more than months of preparation.

Dagmara interpreted this piece of text. Casper had to be Victoria's friend, no one else. It seemed to her as if he had just stood next to her and quoted the exact words from the diary. She felt like the heroine of the story, as if the story was about her and not Victoria. Because her life turned upside down...

My name is Victoria and I was born on December 31, 1990. However, my life began many years later when I found out that I would die on December 31, 2008. On the same day, I started writing my personal biography in the form of a diary.

I run it with my death in mind, because that death will take place in a few months. Then and only then will this note survive. If it turns out that the day of my birth does not turn into a day of mourning, the pages in the diary would be the first to catch fire. But I know with all my heart that I will die that day.

For now, however, I want to reveal moments worth sharing. I have some difficulties with it, because it is hard to choose a hierarchy in describing more important and less important things. Especially if someone has a successful life. And I, believe me, have only happy memories. I am afraid the bad experience is yet to come, relentlessly counting down the seconds until it consumes me.

She trembled as she read the last sentence. These three paragraphs brought something new. Now she was sure that Victoria was aware of her approaching death.

Dagmara mused. Wouldn't the same thing happen to her as well? In Warsaw, she didn't know people who died young at all. Since she moved to Kielce, she had the impression that she encountered the term death and murder at every step.

She reached for another sheet of paper to see what the second page held. Unfortunately, to her disappointment, the card was completely blank. Actually, not only one. When Dagmara looked through the entire diary, it turned out that it was empty. Only the one entry she had read at the beginning was still there, leaving her with great dissatisfaction in her heart.