Diary Dearest

by Estrella Brunet-Burgess

20th January 1896 Entry no.68

Dear diary,

Today was a rather normal day.

I walked to the village for groceries.

E.N.

21st January 1896 Entry no.69

Dear diary,

This morning I wrote to my brother Peter.

Lillian has been sent to bed with a fever,

the doctor says it's not severe.

She will have to rest.

E.N.

22nd January 1896 Entry no.70

Dear diary,

Although Lillian has mostly been resting,

she has found time to converse with me.

She talks mostly of other children and Delilah.

She often questions me about her mother when we talk.

Today she asked me about her brother, which confuses me;

she knows well that he passed away winters ago.

E.N.

23rd January 1896 Entry no.71

Dear diary,
We have received a letter from the institution today;

Delilah passed away last night.

Yesterday we had the promise of her return,

yet from now on we are alone, Lily and I.

She is beginning to worry me, that child.

Today she spoke of a second visitor,

another of her fantasies.

I simply told her to focus on recovery rather than her imagination, and that 

she may be blind but she is not stupid.

E.N.

24th   January 1896 Entry no.72

Dear diary,  

Lillian said   she's feeling better,

yet upon checking her temperature I have determined she   still has a fever.

Today her and   I played pretend, we   ate   pretend cake   and   drank   make-believe tea,

She insisted   that Delilah was with us, so   I   played along.

Attended church.

E.N.

25th   January 1896 Entry no.73

Dear diary,

Lillian is still sick.

There is a foreboding feeling in the air that I can’t shake off.

E.N.

26th   January 1896 Entry no.74

Dear diary,

today was colder than   the   others, I hope I don’t catch   a   chill.

Lily   spends most of her time looking out the window,

daydreaming   I   suppose.

E.N.

27th   January   1896 Entry no.75

Dear diary,

nothing unusual today.

Decided to   try my hand at   roasting   a   chicken;

carrots and   mash for supper.

E.N.

28th    January   1896   Entry no.76

Dear diary,

I am   beginning to worry.

Lillian has shown no signs of recovery, if anything her condition is worsening.

She insists   the   window   stays open   even though I keep closing it.

The doctor   says she must   keep   resting.

E.N.

29th   January 1896 Entry no.77

Dear diary,

I   am beginning to grow old.

I   often   wonder who will look after   my daughter when   I   cannot.

Lily   still pretends   she has   another come and   speak to her; she   likes to believe it’s her mother.

These are hard times and   I   suppose   we   have   both   found   ways   to   cope   with   it,

 hers   being   childish   make-believe.

I   pray she   hasn’t inherited   it   from   her   mother.

E.N.

30th   January   1896   Entry no.78
Dear diary,

A most peculiar thing happened today.

I was   looking   to   light   the   candles   in   the   hall, but I had lost the matches.

I eventually   found them   on   Lillian’s   windowsill,

although she   is adamant   she   hasn’t   touched them.

Peculiar.

E.N.

31st   January   1896 Entry no.79
Dear diary,

I   believe   my   daughter   is   the   only   thing   keeping me sane   these days.

The townsfolk   just make   it   worse, because   to them I   am   just   the   man   with   the   blind   daughter, arsonist   wife   and   dead   son.

E.N.

1st   February   1896   Entry   no.80

Dear   diary,

Lillian   won’t   leave   the   window.

She   even   eats   her   meals   there.

She   tells   me   she   longs   to   go   out and   I respond   that   she   may   when   she   is   well.

I spend   my   hours   in the   garden, weeding   beds   and   pruning   the   roses.

Attended   church.

E.N.

I   was   walking   back   from   the   butchers,   carrying   my   third   chicken   that   week.

As I went down   the   path   towards   the   door, I   saw   something   in   the   bush. I   assumed   Lillian   had   dropped yet  another   book,   but   as   I   approached   it   realisation   crashed   over   me   like   a   tidal   wave   of   grief.

What   lay   in   the   shrubs  was    a  little   girl,  no older  than  eight,   in   a   twisted   heap, with chestnut hair tangled amongst the leaves and face as pale as the cloudy sky above.

The   fallen  object   was   Lillian.

At  first  , the   authorities   said   it   was   an   accidental   fall,   but   upon   inspecting   her   body   they discovered a piece of paper.

Clenched   in   her   fist,   it   read:

I am with her now.

2nd   February   1896   Entry   no.81

Dear   diary,

Today   I   write   my   final   entry, having   lost   everything   dear   to me   I   see no reason   left   to   carry   on.

I   will   part   with   this   world   and   join   loved   ones   in   another.

Upon   my   death   I   wish   for   only   one   thing:

I   wish   for   our   final   resting   place   to   be   at   this   house,

beneath the   very   window   she   loved   so   dearly.

One   last   time,

Edgar J. Noles

I   walk   into   the room,  as  I   do  so  I  see   a figure,

Dressed   in   all white,   chestnut   hair   hanging   over   her   shoulders.

A   translucent   hand   beckoning   me   forwards.

Delilah.

As   I   approach   her   she   moves   to   the   side,   gesturing   to   the   window.

I   walk   to   the edge,  looking   back   over   my  shoulder only  to see   no one.

  I   turn   back.

Andjump.