Young Writers Society

Chapter One: A Family Secret

The book was small, bound in red leather and pressed with gold leaf. It looked ancient, fragile--far older than anything his mother had ever owned. Chase picked it up, turning it over. There was a single word on the front cover, written in gold. Diary.

Curious, Chase flipped the cover open. Ever since his mother's death, something had been bothering him. Margaret Blackwood had never been one for gaudy things, so the diary wasn't like anything he'd ever seen in his mother's office before, let alone on her desk. Chase swung the office chair around, book in hand, to face the only window in the room. Large and floor to ceiling, it let in light but was also heavily tinted. He'd never figured out why she'd done that, either.

The first page was blank, a little torn, and stuck to the second with something old and rust coloured.

Chase blinked. That was...odd. What was that? Chase decided that he didn't want to think too hard about it, but he was pretty sure it might be blood. He glanced up from the little book to stare out the window and take in the sun setting beyond the city skyscrapers. A beautiful sight, but so at odds with his mood--and the diary. He sighed, then returned his attention to the book and starting turning pages again, grimacing at the rust-red stains on each one.

May, 1816,

It's been a year since it happened. It's hard to believe I survived it, considering all that could have gone wrong. A year since I nearly died. A year since I survived something I shouldn't have survived. I don't know how I managed it. I had a dagger in my chest for five hours. Five hours. Antonio says I was lucky, but I'm not so sure. To be honest, I was ready to die. So ready. And then he was there, telling me I would be alright. I didn't believe him at first, but now? Now, I believe. Antonio is a god. My saviour, my angel.

If only this weren't so hard. I'm told it wasn't a full change. That it was partial. Regardless of what it is, I'm grateful. I could be dead, and my husband would have gotten away with it. Now, though. Now I can show him just what he's done to me. He is going to be shocked. I can't wait to see his face.

- M. Ashby.

Ashby? Antonio? None of it made sense. Especially the date. Chase frowned, staring at that date. That was nearly two hundred years ago. That was also all that was on the page. He closed the book, running his fingers over the cover. What kind of secrets had his mother been keeping from him? Chase glanced out the window again, finding the sunset gone, replaced with stars and lights from all the buildings illuminating the city. It was beautiful, as beautiful as the sunset he had been watching before.

Chase closed his eyes, remembering the look his mother had given him the morning of that fateful day. Just hours before she'd died. He sighed. It had been a warm smile, loving and kind. What had made her decide to do what she did? Better yet, why had she done it? Perhaps she had left him an explanation in the diary. He opened his eyes again, gaze dropping to the gilt lettering. Maybe he should continue reading her diary? Nodding to himself, he opened it to the next entry.

November, 1816,

Antonio should have seen his face! Theo was so shocked. I don't think he was expecting to see me again. He should have been, though. It was worth it. Antonio was furious when I told where I had been and what I had done, but he was amused afterwards. He told me I had done well, that I had removed a witness to my rebirth. After all, Theo was the one who had stabbed me in the first place. Antonio says we could hardly let him live after seeing me. I'm glad. My encounter with Theo could have gone so badly. I wasn't seen by anyone else; I made sure of that.

- M. Ashby.

His mother had been married before? In the eighteen-hundreds? Chase shook his head. It was impossible. He'd seen his mother's birth records. She hadn't even reached her fiftieth year. Chase frowned, flipping to the next page. It had one line on it, after the date.

January, 1827,

I made a mistake. I'm so sorry.

There was no name after the entry. The shortness of it made him wonder. What kind of state of mind was she in during this entry? Perhaps his mother had been regretting her actions towards Theo, the husband who tried to kill her? Was she calling it a mistake? Chase flipped the page. That page was empty, smeared with more dried blood. He thought he could make out a partial handprint--a bit of palm, some fingers. The next few were ripped out or empty. Finally, he came across another entry.

December 31st, 1899 / January 1st 1900,

It's the turn of the century. I'm surprised. I had not thought Antonio would let me stay with him this long. He kept telling me that I would need to find my own path, yet he lets me stay? I am confused. What I felt for him has changed. I no longer feel so attached. Does Antonio notice it as well, or is it just me? I suppose time will tell.

On a less sombre note, London is beautiful tonight. I am sitting on the river bank, watching the boats drift past. There is a sailing ship at port. I hear it is headed for New York. I wonder if Antonio will consider the option? I am unsure. Regardless, I'm sure it will be an adventure!

- Maggie Ashby.

Chase stared at the entry for a long moment. His mother, if what was in the diary had really happened, had been in London over a hundred years ago? She didn't look a day over thirty! He exhaled carefully and braced himself for the next entry. The page was blank. He frowned, taking it in for a long moment before flipping to the next page. That one was also blank.

The next few weren't blank. They were missing, torn out, leaving uneven tear-lines. To Chase, it appeared rushed. He could make out some letters in his mother's handwriting.

De

I

An

te

On

Lov

M

"What the hell, Mother?" he muttered, flipping through several more, some with dates and numbers while others were blank or missing completely, until he reached another entry. "I don't know what to make of this diary. Whatever it is you wanted to tell me, there had to be an easier way."

This entry was simple, scrawled in red pen on the last page that hadn't been torn out;

He is coming.

I will see you in the stars.

Chase closed the book, hand lingering on the cover for a long moment before he turned the chair back around to face the window. That last entry had been a warning. What was his mother trying to warn him about? Or who? Chase sat there, frown creasing his forhead as he stared out at the city for a long time. It was full night now, and quiet. Peaceful.

Suddenly, there were footsteps in the hall outside, and then a knock on the door. Chase tensed, silent and waiting. The door opened, footsteps entered and stopped short of the desk. He glanced at the reflection of the intruder in the glass. A tall man with dark hair and dark eyes. As he watched, the eyes lit up red. He froze.

"Who are you?" he asked without moving. The man cocked his head and, without answering him, raised a pistol into view. It was old. The stranger pointed it at him, eyes narrowed.

"You'll find out," he said and Chase watched him pull the trigger. There was a bang, and then nothing.