The Longs were a nice family. Two adults; Gage and Lilibeth, two children; Lyvvia and Lukas, and a dog; Muffin. Nobody knew why anyone would want them dead, and yet someone did.
It was a strange way they died. Their necks slit, but no blood; their eyes frozen, glassy; their expressions of fear. The dog was killed trying to protect the adults. Lyvvia was frozen, silent on the stairs, holding Lukas. As soon as the murderer fled the scene, Lyvvia called the police.
The police found it impossible to find any evidence. There was no blood, no fingerprints. Nothing was stolen. Nothing knocked over; no signs of a fight. It seemed as if the Longs were helpless.
Lyvvia, of course, saw it all, but she didn't believe what she saw. It was impossible. The murderer had seemed to fly in. Some blue wisps of smoke -- that's what she thought it was -- flew into her parents' lungs. They fell there, unable to hold themselves up. Before the mother had died, she yelled,
"We have been Cursed. You will meet someone who will explain... Take the journals from my closet."
Then their killer slit their throats and they went limp, lifeless, bloodless. Then the killer flew away.
Lyvvia was sure she was going crazy. So she didn't tell the police anything. She said she was in her room the whole time until she found them lying there.
***
Right before she moved, Lyvvia looked in the shoeboxes in her parents' closet. There were journals -- three of them. Full of notes. Full of nonsense. And she took them with her to her aunt's house, where her happiness would steadily shrink.
ns 15.158.61.48da2
