Shadows of the Past

The diary was lighter than I expected, its cover worn but feltl like not much time has passed. I picked it up slowly, careful not to disturb the dusty stillness of the room. My eyes darted around, scanning the empty space to confirm I was alone. The silence was unnerving, but the faint hum of insects outside reminded me I was still surviving with the living world. 

My fingers traced the edges of the leather-bound book before I opened it. The first page greeted me with a child's messy handwriting, the words wobbling up and down like the lines couldn't contain them. 

"My name is Lior. I'm 10 years old. My favorite food is berry cakes. My sister was just born last week, and I love her so much! Dad says I'll protect her when I grow up. Mom says I'm already her big protector!" 

A small smile crept onto my lips. The innocence in the words was stark against the foreboding atmosphere of this place. The child's world was so small, so untouched by the shadows that seemed to fill here now. 

"I love playing with my friends after school. Today, we raced to the river, and I won! My best friend, Eri, said I cheated, but I didn't! I'm just faster than him. After that, we climbed the big tree near the elder's house. Mom got mad when she saw my scraped knees, but Dad said I was brave like a warrior." 

The entries were sprinkled with the simple joys of a child's life—playing in the sun, stealing sweets from the kitchen, getting caught sneaking out late at night to gaze at the stars. It painted a vivid picture of Lior's world: warm, carefree, and untouched by the darkness. 

But then the tone shifted. 

"Last months, something strange happened. We saw seven travelers coming to the island. They wore big cloaks and carried shiny things like swords and jewels. Everyone said they were friendly. They smiled a lot and told stories about the places they'd been. Dad invited them to eat with us. I thought they were cool at first." 

The change in his writing was subtle, but it sent a shiver through me. The excitement in his earlier words was replaced with an unease that seemed to grow with each sentence. 

"One day, I was playing near the elder's house. The travelers were inside talking to them, but one of them stayed outside. He was holding something… it was a stone. It wasn't like any stone I'd seen before. It glowed, like it had fire inside it, but it was grey, not red or orange. He kept staring at it, and his eyes... his eyes were dark. Like there was no light in them. I think he saw me watching because he turned around really fast. I ran as fast as I could and hid under the stairs. I don't think he followed me." 

I turned the page, the tension in my chest tightening as I read. 

"Not long after that, people started getting sick. First, it was just a few of us. We felt tired all the time, like our energy was being pulled out of us. Then it got worse. My baby sister… she couldn't even cry anymore. She just stopped moving. Mom hasn't eaten in days. Dad keeps coughing. And me? I feel weaker every day. Even writing this makes my hand hurt." 

The words were uneven here, the letters jagged and messy. I could almost feel the child's exhaustion coming through the pages. 

"I told Dad about the glowing stone, but he didn't believe me at first. He said I must have imagined it. But then, after Mom got worse, he said he'd talk to the elders about it. Before he could, he invited the travelers to our house to talk. I wasn't supposed to listen, but I hid under the table in the next room." 

I paused, my breath hitching as I flipped to the next page. 

"They were arguing. Dad's voice was loud, but I could hear him coughing between his words. The travelers were laughing, saying he was overreacting. They told him to 'chill out.' That's what they said. 'Chill out.' How could they laugh when Mom was so sick? When people were dying? Then I heard a loud thud. I don't know what happened, but it sounded like something heavy fell. I am hearing footsteps, I guess someone's coming up it should be Dad. I have to go n—"

The writing stopped abruptly. The next page was blank. My fingers hovered over the edge of the paper, frozen in place as I tried to make sense of what I'd just read. The glowing stone. The sickness. The travelers. It all connected, but the pieces didn't fit together yet. 

The sound of a floorboard creaking behind me snapped me out of my thoughts. 

I spun around, the diary still in my hand. A man stood in the doorway, his outline barely visible in the dim light. But I could see his eyes—red, glowing faintly like embers in the dark. 

Before I could react, he lunged at me with a fluid aura following him, twin knives glinting in his hands. 

I moved on instinct, sidestepping the attack and turning to face him again. He landed where I was standing moments ago, the wooden floor creaked hard under his weight. 

"Hoo…" The voice was low and amused. "You actually dodged that? Not bad." 

I slid my other hand into my pockets and other holding the book as I realized who it is. 

I tilted my head upwards as I looked at him. "Shouldn't you be with your friends at the center of the island?" I asked, my voice calm despite the tension crackling in the air. 

He straightened, and as the clouds revealed the moon, its light hit his face, I finally saw him more clearly. 

"Arthur..." I said, my tone flat. 

Arthur grinned, but it wasn't the friendly grin I saw in the morning. It was sharp, predatory, and unsettlingly wide. His glasses caught the faint light, but behind them, his red eyes glowed like twin flames. 

"What are you doing here, Arthur?" I asked. 

Arthur chuckled, the sound low and mocking. "Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing." 

He took a step forward, his grin never faltering. "What's that you've got there?" His gaze flicked to the diary in my hand. "Ah, the diary. Cute, isn't it? Kids always have a way of writing down the things they shouldn't." 

"What is this thing about the travelers? That is mentioned here.." I asked, my voice steady. 

Arthur's grin widened—if that was even possible—and he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with one finger. "Oh, Esther," he said, his tone dripping with mockery. "You're asking the wrong questions." 

His red eyes glowed brighter, the light reflecting off the lenses of his glasses. "The real question is, what are you going to do now?" 

The grin on his face sharpened, his teeth gleaming like a predator closing in on its prey. 

I didn't move, my hands still in my pockets, as I stared him down. 

"Another tiring person..." I said as I sighhhh.