AUTHOR'S NOTES: Hola, I'm Kersten! <3 Now, before I begin, I'd like to emphasize and elaborate on a couple of things. First off: while I am an 18 year old college freshman, this story was researched, planned, and written when I was just an ickle 12-year-old 7th grader. (Yeup.) Don't let that turn you off, though; I have revised it. I tried to leave it in the same form it was when it was originally written, as much as possible, because I really don't like changing the stuff I write when it's long-over. Secondly: Seeing as I am an 18 year old college freshman, I may not be able to update all the time. I'll do as much as I can, of course, but I do have other things that MUST be addressed. Third: This story may be a bit extreme for some readers, so if you are offended by nonblatant nudity (rare), violence involving children and teens (including abuse), or are very sensitive to religious references, you may not want to read it. (I got an OK from the mods though, so I think it's acceptable.) And finally: I LOVE feedback. Please give me any feedback you can. This is not exactly an introduction, but you won't really find out what's going on until the next chapter, which I am about to go take pictures for. <3 Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy the products of a strange little girl's preteen mind.



June 17

   I’m so tired.  I haven’t slept well in weeks.  It always gets like this around this time of year... because it is around the anniversary of her death.  This is the third time tonight I’ve been roused by nightmares.  It’s as though I can’t stop thinking about it – am I obsessed?  I’ve never written about it before, maybe that will help me.  It’s not as though I can go back to sleep yet.


   I was sitting in the living room at the time.  I think I was ten years old, but I barely remember that now.  My father’s easy chair – he didn’t take it with him when he left us – was near the window, and I sat in it, daydreaming.  That was the most I ever did, which may have been the reason my family thought I was so stupid.


   That was when Alexia ran in.  She was my dear nine year old sister.  I loved her – I love her – so much.  I was the only son, but she was the one they treasured.  Yet she treasured me, more than anyone else.  I can’t recall a time that we fought, though surely there were moments.  But they all left me – I don’t want to remember a single time I was angry at her.


   She started chattering, as she was prone to do, and I didn’t really listen.  It was mostly idle neighborhood gossip, which I cared nothing for.  However, suddenly, she stopped speaking and began to cough, and by the time I got out of the chair she was choking.  By the time she was in my arms, she was dead.  It had happened so fast – there was nothing I could do.


   But that was when my mother ran into the room.  She started screaming at me, and screaming for help.  I could do nothing but stare at Alexia’s tiny body, my hands shaking.
   The doctors said she had choked to death.  On what, I wondered? She hadn’t been eating, and her death had happened so quickly.  She had always been in good health.  My mother thought that I had killed her, jealous because she was the most loved.  I felt responsible, so I never denied it.  She would beat me, screaming at me, demanding to know why I would kill her only child.


   I can’t write in any more detail than that.  It has been too long, and it is too painful.  I feel worse now than I did before.

...

   It’s already five o’ clock.  I’ll never get to sleep at this rate.  I guess I –

…
   I... have to go.
   I can’t really believe what’s happening to me.  Just as I was writing, a moment ago, I looked up and I saw what must have been an angel.  She was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, heavenly and ethereal.  Her hair is long and white, and her eyes are blue, I suppose a bit like my own.  Maybe a bit lighter.


   “On this night,” she said in a gentle voice, “you must depart this place.”
   I couldn’t speak, I was so surprised.  So I just stared at her.
   “Take what you must and go to the woods south of St. Petersburg.  You will meet two others there.”
   “W – why?”
   But then she vanished.  I just stared.  Perhaps I was dreaming.  However, something told me I was not.


   So now I must go.  I suppose I ought to make a list of things to take with me.
-extra clothes
-food
-this journal, of course – Alexia gave it to me
-first aid
-a flashlight


   I suppose that’s all I need.  I hope I won’t be gone too long.  It sounds like I’ll be gone a while though, so I ought to bring as much as I can.  I guess I’ll take my black bike.  St. Petersburg is a big city but I live quite far south already, but I’ll be able to move faster with the bike.

  I hope it wasn’t a dream.  I hope I don’t regret this.  The whole thing seems very strange and surreal, but something is pulling me.  I feel like this is something I have to do.




AUTHOR'S NOTES: I hope you liked it... o.O I'm a tad nervous. I haven't posted anything I've written in a forum in AGES... And don't bother asking why it's set in Russia, I don't remember why I chose it, hehe. I did a lot of research on it, though, when I was 12 - I remember that much! <3 Please comment if you read, and give me any *constructive* criticism you can!  :howdy: