Instead of the constant stomach turning, panic in the dark, unnerving suspense, and grisly physical attack, shouldn't you accept what the darkness is willing to offer you Annabelle, a man dressed in a red robe, his face is well hidden in the dark but his neck to his feet is exposed to the light.
He wasn't the only one standing, there are twelve others in a row, their faces are hidden in the dark, my guess is this man is probably their leader.
I pinch myself to wake up, but of cause this is really happening even though its still a dream, different pattern everyday and everything I do is for my survival.
This is insane, what you guys are doing is disturbing and bizarre, are you really this dense, cant you see my sanity is at risk and all you have to say is for me to accept your bloody cult.
There is something for everyone, we are doing you a favor Annabelle and that is one of the reasons why you have been choosen, that is another reason why you found the diary.
The diary? I ask in shock.
Did you lead me to it i ask with tears clouding my eyes, I can't break down here I say to myself. I never asked for any favors from you, whatever something you have for everyone, take mine all back please.
Annabelle Winston, didn't your parents warn you to never meddle with the powers of darkness? The lust for power they say is in the eyes of the beholder.
While he was talking I noticed a painting in the corner of the room, at the bottom of it was written "to dilapidate the darkness, wait on the stormy night to...."
The painting suddenly disappeared into the darkness, i look at the centre to see have been cut by him and boy was he mad. His hand was folded in a tight fist, it turns out the painting could be the key to my freedom.
We don't have enough time a female voice whisper loud to him, this voice clearly sounds like my mom, no doubt about it. This people are clearly delivering a good deal of weird sequences of surprises.
They are becoming pretty more unpredictable.
Reunirse alrededor he shouts.
They rushed to form a circle, and red candles with green flames surrounds them where by they are in the circle with the candle protecting them on the outside as they chants in a weird language.
A veiled woman approaches the ring leader, she had a small knife in her hand, she slits her palm and his together as they squeeze the blood over the green fire, together they repeats this act on all the candles while smirking at me in disgust.
To describe my current situation, my soul was shattered to the point where I find myself succumbing to the spell, I am still wondering on how and when I meddled with the dark.
Stop, stop, stop I scream when I felt a wrecking pain In my chest, this certain pain is slowly turning Into a yearning obsession to do evil, am I becoming like them, i don't want to, I kick my legs and say a silent prayer.
She's fighting it, the woman with my mom's voice panics, what caught my eyes was the five seconds fear in the leader eyes when he moved closer to the light. He had no nose, ears nor mouth, just eyes, am surprised at how I could read the emotions in his eyes, could the rest be like him too?
She's a sweet blend of light and darkness, the sheer originality of his tone was empty that I couldn't predict his next move, nor understand his thought.
I had my internal battle going until he said, don't worry she has been compelled the moment she shared her experience into the diary.
My first thought was, no wonder the diary suddenly appeared from no where. I have no idea what prompted me to speak but I asked, why are you doing this to me?
They all turned my way, the force in their audience to me, was giving me goosebumps and I could tell I will hate their response.
The less said, the better for you.
Better i scoff, the sleepless night I have had, the attacks, how is any of that better I shout angrily at him. I want to know, the fear hidden within me was dead at the moment, all I wanted was answers, more information cause I know the war days are approaching and whatever communication I was having with them was just a peripheral of what is to come.
You do sound a bit like your mother, it's just a pity you aren't as ideally suited like she was he said.
Apart from when he mentioned the diary, he keeps talking about my mom and am starting to think that perhaps am looking in the wrong direction, maybe, just maybe there is more hidden in my family than what meets the eyes.
Is it my mom? I ask.
Goodbye Annabelle, we'll meet again soon.
No, I fight. Not wanting to wake up but I do, sweating profusely even though the weather is cold. I seat upright and pick the diary up.
And the actual message from my grandma appears on the front page saying, do not trust what you see Annabelle...
What does that even mean, I ask myself.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
