Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
A Fairy Out of Her Tale - Dear Diary - 18. Scene 18
9th January, 1995
Dear Diary of Distress,
I hadn't noticed before, but there is a police officer outside my door. It was harder to see at night, when the lights in the corridor were almost all off, but now there's no mistake about it. The police officer is still like a statue blocking my door. Are they going to step aside when breakfast comes? When the nurses need to give me medicines? Why are they even there?
Maybe the police finally realised my case deserves punishment. They have to make sure I don't run away.
Not that I want to. Or that I have a place to go to. Daisen is a strange country where people speak a strange language and write with symbols that make no sense to me. How can I even survive in a place like this on my own?
I don't mind being locked up for life. It would make things a lot easier. Though even easier would be to just kill me and be done with it. Right?
The officer moved. Maybe someone is coming? But I don't see anyone.
The officer has horns!
I hadn't noticed until now. They turned their head towards me and now I can see as clearly as the water from our little stream at home (that isn’t my home anymore).
Mother Deity protect me!
The officer is here to get me. They're a demon in disguise, and they're going to do what Morumpi failed to do! I have to get out of here!
Though why would an officer wear such an obvious disguise? If everyone can see the horns, and nobody is doing anything about it, then... Could the officer not be a bad person?
Technically, they could've come in here at any point during the night when I was sleeping to take me away. And yesterday, when I was awake and focused on telling you my story. What are they waiting for?
I don't know what to think anymore. Thinking is tiring. The other police officers should be here soon, anyway. If the one guarding my door is evil, I'll be witness to some epic fight between the good guys and the bad guys, and I’ll be their prize, like some sort of treasure. I guess I get to feel important?
I don't want to write anymore. It involves thinking. Everything involves thinking. If I try not to think, I end up remembering the things I told you about yesterday. What should I do? I don't like this...
I’ll be back later.
We're back to the present and to the shorter scenes, at least for now.
Why is there a demon guarding Nessa? Are they even "guarding" her, or are her suspicions right?
Find out Sunday, or be a Darling (capital D and all) and support me on Patreon to find out now!
- 4
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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