Emily's Diary - Chapter 1

Tucked behind a stack of water-damaged trunks was a small, leather-bound book. Its edges were frayed, the once-vibrant green dye faded to the color of moss in winter. There was no title on the spine, only a simple, hand-tooled inscription on the front cover: Emily’s Diary .

Tomorrow, I’ll read the next page.

As I passed the small closet at the end of the hall—the one Mom wants to turn into a reading nook—I stopped. emily's diary - chapter 1

I was on the porch, trying to read a book, when a girl about my age walked by on the sidewalk. She had short, choppy hair dyed a violent shade of purple and boots that looked like they could stomp through a war zone. Tucked behind a stack of water-damaged trunks was

It was the silence again. It was so quiet I could hear the blood rushing in my own ears. I got up around 2:00 AM to get a glass of water. The hallway on the third floor is long and narrow, and the floorboards groan with every step. Tomorrow, I’ll read the next page

When I was seven, my grandmother pressed a small, rusted key into my palm. “For when you’re old enough to understand,” she whispered. Her eyes had that look—not sad, exactly. More like she was holding back a flood.