Samantha

April 23, 2015

Dear Diary,

           Today marks the three year anniversary of my mother’s fatal accident. I bought a bouquet of her favorite flowers and a vase tinted lavender (her favorite color). It’s still hard to continue a life without the piece that made you whole. I will continue to take it day by day until I can see her lovely face again.

Yours Truly,

The Broken Girl

As I embark on my walk to the cemetery to visit my sweet angel, memories of the good life with her continuously come about in my mind. It’s difficult to make these walks alone, as my father has now stopped making visits because he labels the pain as unbearable and inhumane. So I walk by myself in silence, feeling worse than a child losing their mother in a grocery store. Stranded. That’s the feeling, and it’s my ten. My unbearable and inhumane. Not just losing my mother, but being left alone to grieve forever.

A tear forms in my right eye as I walk through the gate of the resting place of my loved one. Vase in hand and tear streaked face, there I stand in front of her grave, wishing I could wake up and the past three years would only be a dream.

I prepared a note to read aloud, even though no one would be around to hear it. As I unfold the paper, my vision is clouded by the constant flow of tears my eyes are producing. My body is shaking and I begin to feel dizzy, so I reach out and grab ahold of the closest thing next to me- Jonny Manzil’s headstone.

Jonny

April 23, 2015 (I think)

Dear Diary,

           Well I’m beginning yet another day of my miserable life. I used to feel alone when I was not with anyone at that point in time, but sixty three years of never coming in contact with another human is the absolute definition of loneliness. I have tried everything I can think of to escape this prison and let myself find actual peace. Will I ever get out of here?

Sincerely,Mr. Miserable

At sunrise, I go outside and sit by my headstone just like I do every morning in hope that since this is where I appeared here, there could be something to help me leave. Nothing. No sign of life or difference in anything. I’m still stuck in the empty streets of New York City in 1952.

           I get up to start my daily routine by going cook breakfast, but something doesn’t feel right. I look around to try and find what it is making me feel so uneasy but I see nothing out of the ordinary. I look up with the slightest bit of hope and there it is, a lunar eclipse. This is the day it always happens (as I have been stuck in the same year this whole time). The sky goes dark for three seconds and then it’s back to the same, empty sky, but then something is different. A huge gush of wind hits me out of nowhere, and I see a young girl lying on the ground in tears.

Samantha

           I’m on the ground, curled in a ball, drowning in my own sobs. I realize how I must look and immediately get up and wipe my tears. I look up and see a guy just standing there staring at me. I don’t recognize him so I calmly take a step back and observe him. He’s wearing something my grandfather would have worn at our age and he awkwardly stares back. I stutter out a hello and he grabs me and picks me up. I get scared and I’m about to kick and scream when he places me down and yells, “Finally! Yes! A person!” I can’t help but laugh.

           He tells me to sit down and explain how I got there. After I finish telling him about the events that led up to me touching the headstone, I ask the questions that have been pounding against my brain, “Where the heck are we? Where is everyone? Why does the town look so different?”

           To these he replies, “I will tell you everything you wish to know.”

Jonny

           A person! A person! A person! Wow, after sixty three years I had all but given up on getting out, and now there has to be a way. She tells me she got here immediately after touching my headstone, and that boggles my mind. So now I have questions, “Are you a witch? Do you know about magic? Is my headstone a portal?”

           To these she simply replies, “I don’t know, but I want to know everything about this place.” So I begin to tell her my story.

           I was born on February 18, 1936 in Ireland. My family moved to New York so that my father could have more control over our group of witches. We call ourselves the Quincy Coven. In my coven, twins are the norm, so when a single child is born they are in line to become the leader. I was born a single child, so, as tradition goes, on my sixteenth birthday I would be sworn into leadership just as my father was.

Growing up I was never one to follow the rules, so when my sixteenth birthday came around, I ran. I couldn’t bear the thought of being in control of my entire coven. I went to New Jersey and occupied myself with drag racing. Then there was an accident. I spun out and my car caught on fire as I hit the wall. I was rushed to the hospital, but I knew my time had come. While I was in the hospital, my father stopped by, but not for comfort. He put a spell on me so that when I died my soul would be trapped all alone living the same year over and over again.

            “So this is like your prison?”, she said.

           “Sadly, yes”, I replied, “I’ve been trapped here all alone for sixty three years.”

           To my surprise she did not look the least bit confused. Instead she said, “Well what’s your name and how about you show me what 1952 looks like.”

Samantha

           His story is so intriguing and I am hanging on to every word. While he was telling me about his past, I couldn’t help but notice how piercingly blue his eyes are. I studied his features as he talked, from his perfectly greased hair to his finely chiseled jawline. All my life I had never found someone so attractive, and when he spoke it was like you had no choice but to listen because his voice was smoothly breathtaking. He said his name was Jonny and politely asked for mine in return. When I said Samantha, he smiled and said, “Wow, what a beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” My heart was racing. No one has ever spoken to me that way, and when he reached for my hand to tour me around I gladly took it, only making my heart beat faster and butterflies swarm in my stomach.

1952 New York is so amazing. The buildings are all brand new and shiny. The first place he takes me is a small café in the heart of the city. Pictures of Elvis cover the walls and a giant record player stands in the corner. He tells me to wait and then disappears into the kitchen. He returns a few minutes later with two plates containing bacon burgers and fries. 

“Would you like a drink?”, he asks.

            “I would just love a lemonade”, I replied.

           We sit down at a table covered in Marilyn Monroe cutouts and enjoy our food. I must say, he makes a mean burger.

           Once we’ve finished, he takes me back outside and we stroll up and down the main streets of The Big Apple. He talks and talks about each building: what it was, who worked there, and a story about something that happened there. The whole time my mind just kept returning to the thought of how handsome he is.

I was absolutely mesmerized with everything he said and did.

           “Well that’s what 1952 New York looks like”, he said as we approached a neighborhood.

           “This part still looks the same”, I said, referring to the neighborhood.

            He then mumbled, “This is where I lived. 

Jonny

           She is simply amazing. I’m giving her a tour of old New York and she is listening to all of my dramatic stories. The wind blows and I look over to her. In that moment everything stopped. The wind blew just perfectly through her hair and I couldn’t stop the upcoming of undenying affection that consumed me. My heart is racing, I don’t know what to do except take her to a place where I’m most comfortable to express these feelings to her. I bring her where I used to play with my siblings and enjoy myself: my old home. The last stop of our randevue is the dining room of the house. I just couldn’t help it anymoreI kissed her. I pulled away and quickly began to apologize when she grabbed my face and kissed me again. It was great. I had never felt so alive and in that moment I knew that she was the one for me. 

“Wow. I’ve never felt such a connection with someone before”, I said, “I think I’m in love with you.”

           She looked at me and a grin spread across her lips, “Call me crazy, but I think I’m falling in love with you”, she whispered.

           I took her by the waist and kissed her again, this time more passionately than the first two. Night began to fall so we walked back to the cemetery for her departure.

            “I don’t want to leave you here alone”, she says.

           “It’s ok,” I say, “Just promise me that you will return so that we may fall even more in love with each other and spend many more countless hours together.”

           “I promise”, she says to me and then kisses my cheek. She reaches out and touches my headstone, and then she was gone.

Samantha

           I sadly am back in 2015. Jonny was amazing. He made me feel as though the void that my mother left has been filled. In that very moment of my return, I decided that I would find members of Jonny’s coven and ask them to let his soul back into his body, alive, and out of the prison world. I searched for hours, but I finally found a woman that must be related to Jonny somehow. Jessica Manzil, 822 Wall St. New York.

April 24, 2015

Dear Diary,

           Jonny is the best thing to ever come into my life. He has already stolen my heart. I could write about how perfect he looks and how amazing he makes me feel for hours. I will now set out to find this woman Jessica in hope that she will help me let Jonny out so that we may begin the rest of our lives together. I truly have found my missing piece.

Yours Truly,

The Girl in Progress

I woke up and hurriedly slipped into a pair of shoes and raced outside. I arrived at her house full of excitement. My key to a full and happy life again could be right behind the tall brown door before me. As I knock on the door, my hands are shaking. I realize that this woman could also deny me and I would not be able to see Jonny every second of every day. 

A short old woman answers the door, and I see many other men and women standing behind her.

           “May I help you young lady?”, she asked. I shakily reply, “II am looking for Jessica Manzil.”

           “I am she”, she answered, “May I ask why you are on my doorstep?”

           “This is going to sound crazy”, I say, “but I met someone who I believe to be one of your relatives. Does the name Jonny Manzil ring a bell?”

As soon as the name escapes my mouth they all step back in astonishment.

            “Would you step inside?”, Jessica asked.

I walk in and they all spread away from me as if I were a disease. The woman turned to me and asked that I tell her how I met Jonny. After telling her the story and explaining that I know his story as well, she asked for my last name and my mother’s maiden name. Right after I say that my mother’s maiden name was Jultez they all began talking at once.

           “Darling, are you aware of the fact that you are a witch?”, Jessica asked me.

           “No”, I say, “Would that explain why I was able to portal to Jonny’s prison?”

           “Ummm”, she said, “Yes, you are able to perform that magic just as any other witch in your family because it was your grandmother who put Jonny into that world. Only a Jultez descendant can portal back and forth between our world and his.”

 Wow, this is amazing. I’m a witch, and I can basically do anything I want! I’m bursting with excitement when I realize that I never got an answer to my question.

           “Wait”, I interrupt everyone, “Will you release Jonny from his prison to be with me?”

Jessica quickly replied, “No, we will not. He is there for disobeying our coven’s rules and shall be punished forever.”

           Anger takes over me and I storm out of the house and head to the cemetery. I quickly get to his headstone and grab it. Nothing happens.

Jonny

April 24, 2015

Dear Diary,

           Samantha. Samantha. Samantha. She is all I’ve been thinking about since she left last night. I retraced our steps from the greatest afternoon of my life until I couldn’t walk anymore last night. As I was lying in bed she was all I could I think about before drifting off to sleep and I know she is all I dreamed about. I wish she would’ve never left and that I could stay by her side forever.

Sincerely,

Mr. Happy