The Diary Keeper ["The Dark Legacies" Series]

Epilogue

The once vibrant amusement park now lay in solitude, a desolate landscape that seemed frozen in time. It was autumn, and the trees that once provided shade and a burst of color had shed their leaves, leaving skeletal branches stretching out into the grey sky. The air was cold and damp, a thick, eerie fog shrouding the decaying rides and attractions.

The only sounds that echoed through the abandoned park were the distant creaks of rusted swings and the melancholic howling of the wind. The once cheerful laughter of children and the hum of roller coasters had been replaced by an eerie silence. The cracked and faded paint on the rides whispered tales of past joy, now long gone.

Empty, faded concession stands and forgotten game booths stood as relics of days gone by. A forgotten carousel spun slowly, its once colorful horses now lifeless and dull. The ferris wheel, once a symbol of delight, loomed as a somber sentinel over the deserted park.

In this lonely, forlorn place, no soul remained. The sole visitor in this desolate place was silence... and me. What was I doing here? How did I find myself in this eerie place?...

In that creepy atmosphere, my attention was drawn to a sight that captured my mind. As I gazed through the thick mist, I saw a little girl on a swing. She appeared to be about eight years old, her delicate frame swaying gently in the cold breeze. She wore a beautiful, emerald green dress that seemed out of place in the desolation.

Her long, ebony hair cascaded down her back, contrasting vividly with the surrounding grayness. Her features were as cute and beautiful as a doll's. Something about her struck a chord deep within me, for she bore an uncanny resemblance to Mia Lancaster in her childhood...

I approached this little angel, hesitating what to say to her. The girl was reading a book and seemed not to notice me at all.

"Your dress is inappropriate for such weather. It's a little bit cold, isn't it?" I asked carefully.

It seemed that my presence was unwelcome to her. The little girl slowly raised her head and gazed... no, not at me. She was looking through me. Her gaze was chilling and empty.

"I never feel cold." The girl's voice was even more chilling and emptier.

"Why?"

"Because I never feel anything."

She got silent and in that very moment snowflakes began to fall from the somber sky. Each delicate flake descended in slow motion, a melancholic ballet of frozen tears. The world around us was already steeped in a haunting stillness, and the arrival of these wintry whispers only added to the whole vibe.

"But it's impossible, you are tricking me."

"I am already dead," she explained calmly, "And the dead can't feel."

The pale flakes, like fading memories, settled on my shoulders, my hair, my eyelashes and the girl's forlorn green dress. Autumn was about to change to winter.

"Let's go to my home," I took her hand, "You need to warm up."

"I can't feel warmth," her words sounded mechanical and emotionless. "But I can think. The dead may lack feelings, but we have consciousness, we have intellect. That's why I read. Reading warms me."

"And what are you reading?"

"My diary."

"You keep a diary?"

"No, but I will when I grow up. It's a notebook from my future." The girl turned a page, and at that very moment, I noticed something strange. Something that was incredibly difficult to explain from a logical perspective.

"There was text here just now," I ventured to say, "But it disappeared as soon as you turned the page."

"Exactly."

"So, you don't deny it?"

"No."

"Don't you find this... unusual?"

The girl slowly closed the notebook, set it aside, and looked directly into my eyes. Her gaze was empty, like that of a doll, and her face remained devoid of any emotion.

"When my story ends, so will the text to write it. But my writings will come alive in the eyes of those who read them. People die, but the consequences of their actions may live on forever."

"You're Mia Lancaster, right?"

Finally, the girl smiled. It appeared that she was pleased to be recognized. The ice in her soul began to thaw, and her face began to radiate light.

"You're quite perceptive, Liandra," Mia said, "And remember - only help those who can still be helped. You can't shield the dead from the cold, right?"

After those words, the entire landscape dissolved, and I opened my eyes to find only a clock in front of me, showing 3 a. m.