AylaBlackStatic

I collapsed, exhausted, to the cold floor of our new house. Checking the time on my phone, half past ten at night, I was suprised to find that it was still bright outside. Then I remembered that I was now in Scandinavia, the land of the Midnight Sun. Despite this, it still felt like a cold dark night where the snow piled up in the streets and one such as myself was trapped indoors, left alone with their thoughts. I was beginning to regret this move. My partner and I had arrived here at six in the morning, and our bones were stiff from unloading boxes. He had complained to me about bringing so much stuff, and only now was I beginning to agree

I keep with me a little blue book. This book is small and bright. But behind the bland, blue cover, you will overlook the true meaning of this little book and that which is read will, seemingly, stay out of sight. None lay defeated if they read it and see the beaten page with all its many, scrawled words which anonymously, do, have a fake identity. Who would have thought it held those distraught gates into Hell? The fires rage through a scribbled old page. The words have naught been heard. Black inside is this diary, now.

Cackling, squawking, rattling cages; The eagle preys upon the vermin. Eyes stalking between seats, watching each and every person. The pack rats chatter, seeking attention while the lone wolf glances, senses the rise in tension, and scribbles down the answers. As another swings from the fan she springs upon the child; Silence falls over his friends who stop, quivering - has Miss gone wild?

In the quiet, dark comfort of his room, Chris Watkins dozed peacefully. He had been up all night finishing his homework and needed a well earned rest. He buried his head deep into a mountain of pillows and let his mind wander. But this moment of calm was soon interrupted by a loud crash. Chris was jerked awake by a shattering roar of fury, and his father stormed in rubbing a sore spot on his head. He grabbed the boy by the collar of his shirt and glared deep into his eyes. "You stupid boy!" he growled. "Why was your schoolbag lying at the top of the staircase?" Chris stammered, half awake, trying to think of an excuse. "I wasn't thinking,