The Journal (eBook)

by G Sauvé

  That seems simple enough. I close the journal and make my way across the field of odd burrows. At the far side of the clearing stands the mouth of a cavern. I hesitate for a moment before entering.

  The cavern is cramped but empty. The walls are bare and the ceiling so low I can barely stand straight. I scan my surroundings to make sure I’m alone, then open the journal.

  Step 5: Replicate the sketch on Page 3 by painting it on the wall using the provided painting supplies.

  That shouldn’t be too hard, I think.

  I remove the backpack and retrieve the Ziploc bag marked with a “1.” Dumping its content onto the floor reveals five tubes of paint and three paintbrushes. I place them in a neat line, then focus on the drawing I noticed earlier.

  It depicts a man standing atop a mountain. A strange bird flies high in the sky. I look closer and realize it’s, in fact, a dragon—or a winged dinosaur of some sort. The man has an hourglass symbol on his left wrist. At the base of the mountain stands a row of small people. Beneath them lies a series of strange markings the likes of which I have never seen.

  I get to work as soon as I’m done studying the drawing. Replicating it is a simple but lengthy process because I have to constantly compare the drawing to the painting to make sure I’m not messing things up. The hardest part is replicating the strange markings. That alone takes nearly fifteen minutes. By the time I’m done, I’m covered in paint and my eyes hurt from the constant strain, but the fifth step is finally complete.

  I pull away, study the painting to make sure I didn’t forget anything, then focus on the list of instructions.

  Step 6: Gather the supplies and return them to the backpack.

  It takes less than thirty seconds.

  Step 7: Use the ring to open a portal.

  This takes a little longer because my fingers are slick with paint and turning the triangles is difficult. I end up having to wipe my hands on my pajama, but it’s worth it because I manage to turn the triangles. Moments later, a portal crackles to life.

  Step 8: Enter the portal.

  This is not only the final step on the list, but it’s the easiest. After making sure all of the supplies have safely been tucked away in the backpack, I approach the portal and step through.

  Entry 3

  I emerge from the portal feeling disoriented. The darkness of the prehistoric past is gone. In its place now stands the bright glow of a city. Buildings stand all around me. Some are tall. Others are short. Never before have I seen such a beautiful, luxurious city. But the town itself is not what draws the gasp from my lips.

  I’m underwater. A massive, see-through dome stands high above, shielding both me and the city from the vastness of the ocean that lies beyond. I stare at it for the longest time before managing to look away. What I find next is even more unexpected.

  The city is elevated. It floats above the ocean floor, the see-through nature of the flooring allowing for a perfect view of the wildlife that lives beneath. The ocean is dark, but the light produced by the city illuminates all within close proximity. I watch, stunned, as a whale swims past beneath my feet.

  The next thing I take into account is the fact that the city is nearly deserted. I find this odd until I notice the dimness of the buildings. A few are illuminated, but most remain dark, indicating it’s night. The darkness of the ocean now makes sense. So does the lack of pedestrians.

  It takes a while, but I eventually grow accustomed to my strange surroundings. Once the initial shock fades, the urge to explore the city becomes almost impossible to resist. It takes all the strength I have to will myself to unshoulder the backpack and extract the Ziploc marked with a “2.” Unlike the last, it contains only one item.

  I retrieve the small metallic sphere and study it. It’s the same size as the marbles I played with as a child and glistens in the light. Aside from that, it’s entirely uninteresting. Shrugging, I place it into my pocket and grab the leather journal. The second list of instructions is just as detailed as the first.

  Step 1: Don’t wander. You WILL get lost.

  I count my blessings. Had I given in to my exploratory urges, I would now be lost and unable to complete my task. Truth be told, I care little about the assignment, but my reunion with my parents hangs in the balance, which means I can’t afford to fail.

  I focus on the journal and familiarize myself with the second directive.

  Step 2: Follow the map to your destination.

  Sounds simple enough. I turn the page and study the hand-sketched map. It’s crude but to scale. Reaching my target should be easy.

  I head off.

  Travelling allows me to study the city in more detail. That’s how I notice the trees that line all but a few of the streets. The fruits they produce are foreign to me, but that’s not exactly unexpected. There are also hundreds of small vehicles scattered throughout the city. Parked along the edges of the streets, they resemble Smart cars in both size and shape. There are also a few motorcycles, though they’re devoid of wheels and appear to have no mode of propulsion. All are white and appear to belong to some sort of city-wide public transportation system. The more I learn about this city, the more perfect it seems.

  I keep going until I reach my destination. It’s a small building. Roughly the size of a house, the structure is shaped like a half sphere and is devoid of both windows and doors.

  I approach it, wondering how I’m supposed to enter. It’s not until I focus on the journal that I understand what’s expected of me.

  Step 3: Press your hand to the building and stand back.

  It seems like an odd request, but I’ve learned not to ask questions. I approach the structure and press a hesitant hand to the smooth surface. Nothing happens until I remove my hand.

  A glowing handprint appears. I stare at it, unsure what to expect. It persists for a few seconds before fading away. As it retreats, the wall begins to crumble. Breaking up into tiny particles, the unknown material that makes up the building retreats, forming an opening. It grows bigger and bigger until a large opening stands before me.

  I stare at it for a while, heart racing, before it occurs to me to familiarize myself with my next set of instructions.

  Step 4: Enter the building and locate the two large spheres that stand within.

  Once again, the request is simple. But that doesn’t mean I’m calm. I’m about to enter an unknown building in a strange underwater city that may or may not be located somewhere in the distant past.

  “Don’t be afraid,” I tell myself. “You can do this.”

  And I do. The darkness recedes as soon as I enter the building. The wall seals shut behind me, but I know a simple touch will suffice to reopen it. I think.

  The structure isn’t a home. Or an office. It’s some sort of workshop. Heaps of random objects litter the open space. There are tools and odd-looking contraptions. A half-finished robot stands in a corner. A mountain of scrap metal towers in another, threatening to collapse at any moment. There are dozens of other eclectic objects scattered throughout the room, but I forget all about them when I spot two large spheres standing at the very centre of the messy workspace.

  These must be the spheres the journal was referring to. I step closer and study them. They’re big—roughly two metres in diameter—and perfectly smooth. Made entirely of shiny, polished metal, they glisten in the soft ambient light.

  Eager to complete my task, I return my attention to the journal.

  Step 5: Make your way to the back of the rightmost sphere and press your hand to its lower half.

  There’s no way of telling which part of the sphere is the back, but since I’m facing the same direction I was when I entered the building, I assume the half facing me is the front and make my way to the other side. Crouching, I press my hand to it.

  Nothing happens until I remove my hand. As soon as I do, a hole appears in the sphere. It’s small and perfectly circular. Curious as to its intended use, I foc
us on the journal.

  Step 6: Place the marble inside the orifice.

  I retrieve the small metal bead from my pocket and drop it into the hole. Nothing happens for a few seconds, then the hole seals itself, erasing all traces of its presence and trapping the marble inside the sphere.

  That was easy, I think as I read the next step.

  Step 7: Hide.

  “Hide?” I mutter. “What the hell does that…”

  My voice trails off when a movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention.

  It’s a hole. It has appeared in the nearby wall and expands with each passing second, revealing the short man who stands beyond it. At least I think it’s a man until he’s revealed in his entirety.

  It’s a kid.

  He wears a white lab coat and holds himself as though he owns the place. The effect is amplified when he strides into the workshop and starts looking around in search of something—or someone.

  “Is someone here?” he calls out.

  Crap! He knows I’m here.

  I remain crouched, hidden behind the sphere, as the kid ventures deeper into the workshop. Coming to a stop mere metres from me, he taps his left wrist and beams of light emerge from it. They converge, forming a hologram that looks suspiciously like a tablet. He taps away at it for a few seconds then looks up. He stares at the sphere behind which I hide and frowns. His gaze returns to the tablet.

  “It must be malfunctioning,” he mutters, banishing the hologram with a flick of his wrist. He scans the workshop one last time, then turns around and walks off. I wait until both the kid and the hole in the wall are gone before breathing.

  “That was close,” I mutter. “Too close.”

  I quickly scan the final two steps and breathe a sigh of relief. My second task is over. All that now remains is for me to open a portal. Moments later, the crackling oval of shimmering energy appears before me. I take one last look at my surroundings and enter it.

  Entry 4

  I appear in the orphanage bathroom. The light is on, and the door is locked, indicating I only just left.

  “What am I doing here?” I wonder. The letter said I had three tasks to complete. I assumed that meant I would be travelling to three different times. Apparently, I was wrong.

  I open the journal and locate the third set of instructions. Unlike the last two, it contains only a few steps. Focusing on the first, I familiarize myself with my final task.

  Step 1: Go to Grace’s office, and wake her. Make sure she does not see you.

  It’s a strange request, but one I have complete faith I can perform. Still, it’s with a slight sense of unease that I remove the backpack and place it in the box from whence it came. Tucking it beneath the sink, I clutch the journal, approach the door, and unlock it. I then reach out with a trembling hand and flick off the light. Once my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, I open the door and slip out of the bathroom.

  The dormitory is dark, silent. That’s good. It will make my job easier. I tiptoe through the darkness, my pace slow and steady. It takes a while, but I finally reach the far end. Pausing to make sure none of the other orphans are awake, I pull the door open and slip into the corridor.

  The lighting is dim, but that’s a good thing. It allows me to proceed unnoticed. I creep down the hall toward Grace’s office. A soft glow emanates from it, casting creepy shadows on the wall. My heart beats faster as I near my destination. I pause by the doorway and peek in. The door is closed, but the glass partition allows me to see what lies beyond.

  Grace sits in her chair, her legs propped up on her desk. Her eyes are closed, and her head rests against her chest.

  She’s asleep.

  This is so strange, I think as I step out of cover and carefully open the door. I don’t know who my mysterious pen pal is, but he/she somehow knew Grace would be asleep. Not that it matters. All I care about is completing the final task and reuniting with my parents.

  I slip into the office and look around. The lighting is poor, which means there are plenty of places for me to hide. Picking the most concealing, I get settled and prepare myself.

  Waking Grace will be easy. Avoiding getting caught will be slightly trickier. If I’m lucky, she will realize it’s past her bedtime and leave her office. If not, she will remain, and the odds of me being found will rise dramatically. But what choice do I have? If I wake her from the hallway, I will have no place to hide if she decides to leave her office. By remaining here, I at least run the chance of passing unnoticed.

  Now that my mind is made up, I determine the best way to go about waking Grace. Knocking over a large object would get the job done, but that would imply leaving my hiding spot. Throwing a smaller object would also work, but I could damage something and run the risk of Grace remaining to investigate. The safest option involves using my voice.

  I inhale deeply, speak a silent prayer, and produce a high-pitched shriek. It lasts mere seconds, but it’s so powerful it causes Grace to emerge from her slumber with a stunned yelp.

  “Wha… Where…” she mutters, but her voice trails off when she gets her bearings. She looks around, and I hold my breath, praying she doesn’t see me. But she seems far more interested in the clock that hangs from the wall than in a scared teenager.

  “Oh no,” she gasps. She leaps to her feet and rushes out of the office.

  I did it. I completed my final task.

  I wait until the sound of Grace’s footsteps vanishes before venturing out of hiding. Approaching the desk, I open the journal.

  Step 2: Return to the dormitory. Place the backpack, the letter, the journal, and the ring into the box and slide it under your bed.

  That sounds simple enough. I turn to leave, but then remember this may be my final opportunity to decipher the message contained within the journal. I turn back around and familiarize myself with the third and final step.

  Step 3: Go to sleep. Tomorrow, you will find a detailed set of instructions. Follow them, and you will be reunited with your parents.

  This is it, I think. Soon, the final task will be complete, and my life will forever be different.

  I slip out of the office and make my way to the dormitory. On my way to my bed, I stop by the bathroom to retrieve the box and the backpack and letter it contains. Removing the ring, I place it in the container, along with the journal. I then return to my bed and slide the box beneath it. Moments later, I’m tucking myself in.

  I expect the insanity of the past few hours to keep me from falling asleep, but the exhaustion gains me almost immediately, and I pass out. I don’t know how long I remain in this deep, restful state, but a beam of white light yanks me from my slumber. It blinds me for a moment, then vanishes. More asleep than awake, I groan and readjust my position. I wait for sleep to return, but it never does.

  I lie in darkness for a while before the sounds of movement reach my ears. I focus on the source of the disturbance and notice Will is awake. He sits atop his bed, the covers pulled over his head. He shifts and mutters to himself, but I can’t make out what he says. Is this some sort of strange birthday ritual? Perhaps he’s—

  The sound of echoing footsteps interrupts my train of thought. They grow louder and louder until it becomes clear whoever is producing them is heading our way. I’m debating whether or not to warn Will when he emerges from the covers and pretends to be sleeping. But his false slumber is intercut by strange mumblings.

  What is he doing? Doesn’t he know he’ll get in trouble if whoever is approaching finds him awake? But that’s not what worries me most. If Will gets in trouble, it will draw unwanted attention to him and his surroundings. What if someone notices the box beneath my bed? There’s no way I can explain its presence. It’s thus out of a sense of self-preservation that I intervene.

  “Shut up!” I growl. “You’ll get us in trouble.”

  He grows quiet. And not a moment too soon.

  The footsteps stop just as a shadowy figure appears
at the foot of Will’s bed. I stare at it for a while, frozen in fear, before a soft voice fills the air.

  “Will,” it says. The sound of it causes me to sigh in relief.

  It’s Grace.

  Will bolts upright in his bed.

  “Grace?” he whispers. “What are you doing here?”

  She shushes him and motions for him to follow her. Neither she nor Will appears to be aware of my wakefulness, so I remain quiet and watch as he slips out of bed, gets dressed, and follows Grace out of the dormitory. I don’t know where they’re going, but I sense Will’s life will never be the same. Strangely, the thought is comforting to me. So comforting, in fact, that I soon drift off to sleep.

  Entry 5

  I awake with a startle. It’s early, and most of the orphans are still asleep. Will’s bed is empty, indicating he never returned from his mysterious midnight stroll. Under normal circumstances, I would find this odd, but the excitement that pumps through my veins keeps me from caring. Dropping to my hands and knees, I lower my head to the floor and peer under my bed.

  The box is gone. Only the journal remains.

  I grab the leather-bound notebook and yank it open. The once ink-filled pages have been torn away. Only one page remains busy with text. My heart races as I read through the list of instructions. It’s structured using the same step-by-step format as my tasks and outlines the actions required to locate my parents.

  I can’t believe it. There’s no proof the directions are genuine, but I don’t doubt them for a second. Whoever wrote them is powerful beyond measure. They wouldn’t go through all this trouble only to lead me astray. Still, it’s with a growing sense of distress that I gather my things.