June 2, 1622 Everyone is dying from the sickness that entraps our camp. We’ve been here for weeks, and I’m starting to lose count. With trying to keep track of the days and the number of people we’re losing each day, I’m going insane. How does one stay sane in a time like this? I’ve yet to succumb to the sickness, it hasn’t infected me yet but it’s only a matter of time before I’m swept up with everyone else, hoping to survive.

Everyday I make sure to check on my best friend, samual, hoping and praying that he fights just one more night.

1622, june 2, I’ve been fighting, fighting to stay conscious and not succumb to the sickness that threatens my very being every day. Caleb comes to check on me and make sure I’m doing okay. He always tells me to fight just one more day, every single day. That keeps me going, it keeps me sane what with all the people dying around me. Everyday I wonder if I’m going to be next.

June 5, 1622 I have been busy with helping the sick to have time to make another entry. Samual seems to be doing better these last few days. Maybe he’ll be one of the few that survive this retched thing.

I’ve developed a small cough, although I haven’t told anyone. If I tell them I’ll be quarantined to the sick tents with everyone else and I’ll only get worse if I go there. Besides, I need to make sure Samual is okay. Not many people check on the sick. I’m one of the few who’s able to leave and come as I please, getting Samual what he needs to recover.

1622, June 7 I’m doing much better. Caleb had made sure of that. The only thing that worries me is that I believe he’s developing the same sickness as me, but he won’t admit it. He dreads being stuck in these quarters with the sick.

1623, August 17 I found my old journal. Caleb succumbed to the sickness last year, two weeks after developing his cough. He seemed like he was getting better, but one night he just stopped breathing.

We’ve moved deeper into the land, the uncharted lands that have challenged us with every step we take. I just wish Caleb were here to fight this fight with me.

The crushing weight of the metal debree that lay across my body, cutting into my chest, suffocated me slowly.

I lay, unable to call out as I watch the rescue team help the last of the survivors, so they thought. I try calling, screaming, any noise that would draw them away from the plane and to me, but nothing comes. The air leaves my lungs with each noiseless scream.

The snow shifts below, sinking me deeper into the cold frozen ground. I try getting my arm or leg loose to wave around, maybe catch someone’s eye, but I’m jammed limb to limb.

I don’t want to accept this fate. Im alive, they have to see me. They can’t just leave me here, not like this.

I look to the side, barely able to turn my head, as bright red wets the snow, spreading fast. I know it’s from me, but I can’t seem to figure out where it’s coming from; every part of my body is numb.

The rescue helicopter fades out of view into the foggy clouds above, the snowmobiles fleeing not far behind. The rumble of their engines fade in and out. I can’t tell if that’s because they’re leaving or because I’m losing my senses.

From the corner of my eye I watch as medics quickly evaluate and examine each person they pull out, then shoving them onto the back of a snowmobile to be transported to better help.

Shouts from the rescuers surround me.

My vision blurs. I’ve been sitting here, pinned, for who knows how long. Time doesn’t make sense, nothing does. I can’t make anything out anymore. I can’t tell if it’s from fog or from my fading sight. I can’t decipher the shouts anymore, until they’re completely gone. Faded with the rest of the world.

Everyone’s gone, but me. They left me, they couldn’t find me.

I struggle once more with the last of my strength before finally succumbing to the elements and the injuries of the crash, hopeless. My sight fades to blackness, all of nature becomes silent, and my thoughts come to an end as I cease to exist…

I pull the pack of truth or dare cards that I bought at the antique store earlier today with my friends. “Who’s ready to play truth or dare?” I ask, excitement filling my voice.

Everyone hoots and hollers before rushing over to the table, popcorn overflowing bowls that they drop on the table. The cards are stiff as I mix them. The thin gold strip lining the edges of the black cards shimmers as it catches light from above. I give up on mixing the cards as they fall to the table in a flurry, scattering right side up and upside down. After picking up the cards and placing them in a neat pile I pull out the electrical reader. I place the cards in the slot on the reader. The reader robotically speaks what’s on the card, randomly choosing between truth or dare.

Finally, the game is ready. “Who wants to go first?” Jason asks from across the table, his phone lit up on texting.

No one answers. “I will.” I volunteer.

Suddenly, the voice booms over our laughs. “Dare, violet.” Pause. Everyone goes silent, the voice setting my alarm bells off for some reason.

How did it know my name? I stare at the device, studying it.

“With the pliers in Jackson’s bag, pull out his finger nails.”

I gulp, along with everyone else surrounding the table. Not even I knew he had pliers in his bag.

Jackson makes eye contact with me. “Maybe we should put the game away, it’s giving me the creeps.” He says, his eyes darting around the room frantically.

Everyone nods, equally freaked out. I push the off button but nothing happens.

“You will play… or die.” The device echoes.

A red dot blinks on my forehead. I shake my head, unwilling to continue with this. Pain shoots through my head, a headache seething through my brain like I’ve never felt before.

“Okay, okay.” I gulp, looking at Jackson, then to his bag.

He shakes his head, knowing what’s going through my mind.

“I don’t have a choice.” I say, sympathy etched in my eyes. I reach for his bag and yank it from his grasp, frantically searching for the pliers. My fingers graze cold metal. I gulp, grasping the weapon.

The dot suddenly appears on Jackson’s forehead. I grab his hand with shaky fingers, his equally just as bad. His body is shaking as I bring the pliers to him.

His hand yanks away sending the pliers clattering to the floor. He screams in pain, clutching his head and bending over, trying to alleviate the invisible pain.

His head slams against the table, smoke coming from his ears and eyes.

“Jackson?” I manage to barely squeak out. Everyone’s eyes are frozen on Jackson’s lifeless body.

“Next card. Jason.”

One by one, we are killed off, heads slamming to the wooden table, smoking just like Jackson’s. And then, there was me.

The old mansion on the hill was said to be haunted, but curiosity got the better of a group of friends one Halloween night. As they stepped inside, the door slammed shut behind them, sealing their fate. The air grew colder with each step, and whispers echoed from the walls. They stumbled upon a dusty mirror, and to their horror we, their reflections were missing. Suddenly, one of them vanished, leaving only a chilling scream behind. Shadows danced menacingly, and the friends realized they were not alone. The mansions history of lost souls became all too real. Desperation set in as they searched for an escape, but the mansion had other plans. One by one, they disappeared, leaving only the echo of their terror.

I clutch the dagger, gold lacing throughout the handle. Warmth creeps into my hand as I think about my father, how he held it in his hands the same way I hold it in mine. I’m privileged to continue his legacy, the gift he bestowed on me.

I sit in the shadows, silent, like I’m meditating, just like father taught me. I grip the dagger tightly, yet relaxed, ready and waiting for the man who will soon walk into his fate, to the shadows he doesn’t know I’m waiting in. I’ve prepared my whole life for this, I’ve put my blood sweat and tears, literally. This man caused me so much pain, so much hurt. Because of him, I hold this dagger, because of him I sit in the shadows with the mere memory of my father and all that he taught me. Everything he’s ever told me floods my mind in an calm and organized chaos.

I’ll wait for his most vulnerable moment. The weight of all the ghostly blood that’s on this knife from all of the life it’s taken, weighs down on me. It’s ready to take more. My father wants justice for all the people who couldn’t get it for themselves. I’m continuing his legacy, serving justice to those who aren’t capable.

The poor child lying in the dirt right now can’t get justice, so I will take it, I will get it for her. A child is supposed to be loved and protected by their father, just like I was by mine. This child’s father did the opposites. He put fear into her and he harmed her. It’s time he pays.

I hear the footsteps echoing in the damp hallway, his black dress shoes that he never takes off clicking and scuffing on the ground with each, step indicating his every move. The sound gets louder as I slink farther into the shadows, gripping the dagger tighter and preparing myself.

Keys jingle in his pockets as he fumbles with them to unlock the door to his office. The door opens with a squeak, a candle flickering through the darkness as he enters. I’m far enough in the shadows that not even the candle like can expose me. When he’s not paying attention I’ll put the lighter out and do what I’m good at.

I’ve memorized every piece of furniture and every objects whereabouts to be able to move around without seeing. This will be easy.

The man sets the candle down on his desk before walking over to a small table by a giant window to the left of his desk. He bends over to open a drawer… this is my time to act. I swiftly and silently move across the room with deliberate movements before pinching the small flame out with my thumb and pointer. Pitch blackness.

“What the…” the man is confused. I hear him stumbling in the dark.

I flick the candle over, purposely putting fear in him, the same kind he put in his daughter what trusted him.

His movements stop. I grab a handful of paper and crumple it up, making crunching noises a so do so. I drop the paper with a light thud. By now the man is scrambling around, trying to find anything he can use as a weapon. He won’t find anything useful. He won’t even see me coming. With long strides, I’m invisible in the darkness, slinking against the wall in silence.

I’m behind him and he’s completely unaware. With one swift movement I step forward, grabbing him by the back of the hair with a fistful, placing the dagger across his neck. I pause and breathe down his neck, listening to the shaking in his voice.

“She deserved better.” My hands wet with blood that I can’t see. The gold laced dagger, sharp enough to cut bone, slices smoothly across his skin, cutting through the first layer, the second, his windpipe. I drop the fistful of hair, letting his body fall to the ground with a loud thud. More weight is added to the dagger, more weight added to my heart.

I’ve watched my father do this many times, I just never imagined it would feel this good.

“And that’s the legend.” Allison says, her two grand daughters sitting wide eyed in front of the stone fireplace that is surrounded by books.

Kira look at her grandma, amazed by the story. Her gaze drifts to the mantel above the fireplace, a gold laced dagger sitting in a crystal clear glass case; its razed sharp edge can be seen from a distance, sharp enough to cut bone.

I can’t do this anymore. the thoughts whirling inside my mind never cease, never let me rest or relax. Everytime I close my eyes my past haunts me with terrifying images. It’s like I can hear the screaming of my father in my ear even though he’s not here. I can feel his hot breath on my neck, the smell of alcohol flooding my nose. His memories will forever haunt me. The things he’s done to me, the things he’s said.

Everyone leaves. I’m not good enough for anyone. My mother left me because I wasn’t good enough, my sister abandoned me because of our father, all my so called friends abandoned me because I’m not cool enough, and my father, though evil and abusive, left me through death by his own choice. Now I hold the same knife in my hand, surrounded by the same, cold, dull grass, in the same misty haze of the early morning. A cool breeze rustles my hair, a strand spreading over my eyes. Clouds fill the sky, birds sing harmoniously, filling my ears with a wonderful and calming symphony. I take it all in, ready to leave it all behind, accepting that I’m not good enough for anyone, that the earth is better off taking me into the ground and disappearing from everything and everyone.

The only witness will be the tree in the distance, drooping in the same way my heart feels.

I hold the knife up, looking at as a tear escaped my eye and trickles down my cheek before falling to the ground with a splash. I still feel the wet stream of it on my face, a refreshment in my dry world. “This is it.” I think. I’ll go out the same way as my father, the same evil man who put me in this dark place, who haunts my memories. Well, he’ll haunt me no more.

I suck in a deep breath, putting the tip of the sharp knife to the center of my throat. I freeze, breathing heavily, slowly putting more and more pressure on the delicate skin that’s slowly being punctured.

“Esther! No!” I open my eyes, the knife still held in place. “What was that’s?” I think, looking around but unable to see anything in the fog. Suddenly, a figure comes into view, quickly. It grows and grows, becoming clearer and clearer until I realize who it is… Jack. It’s Jack.

He falls down beside me, grasping the knife slowly, firmly, before lowering it tot he ground , slipping it from my clammy palms. I look at him with disbelief. His deep, chocolate brown eyes staring at me, coated in salty wetness, yet no tear slips. I gently pulls me into his warm body, holding me by the back of the head, playing with my hair, the other hand wrapped around my waist. I relax into his embrace, unable to hold my tears back, they fall down my fast, splashing onto his shoulder like a water fall hitting solid rocks below. That’s what he is, my solid rock. As if reading my thoughts he says, “you can’t do this ester. I love you! I love you so much. You may not think anyone does, you may not think you’re worthy or good enough. But you are! Your are good enough for me! Don’t leave me!” He pleas

I hold him tighter, gentler. I was going to leave him like everyone else left me. I was going to do exactly what haunts me.

I love him! We are enough for each other. Two hearts collide into one…