I stand before the stone.
Talia Shanonn|
I bend down and slowly put down the bouquet of white lilies. She said they were her favourite.
The sky is clearer than the city. So I didn't have to bring the umbrella. I hope she rests in peace. What happens to the people when they die?
Unwanted thoughts and logics cloud my mind. The grave caretaker calls out. It is time to leave. I bid her one last time before quickly visiting my parents graves and off to home.
The keys were given to me since technically I inherited the house. I fumble with the bunch. Which one was what again? What rotten luck because the one I select is not the right one. And the one I reselect feels like I just tried it before.
"Oh? Is that Juniper?"
I turn my head at the call. It is the neighbour.
"Hello Mrs.Moore. Pleasant day, isn't it?" I laugh.
"I wouldn't say for sure, honey. Rain is both a blessing and a curse for us farmers." she says, "Did you come just now? How long are you going to stay? How are you going to have your dinner?"
Sometimes, Mrs.Moore acts like I am her own child rather than some troublemakers.
"I brought something from the store on my way. I am not sure though how long I am gonna stay." I sigh a relief when I finally open the lock. Goodness, these keys are cursed.
I open the door and slide my bags inside. There are not much though, perks of being poor.
"Visit us, will you?" she says finally. I answer affirmative and bid her goodbye. I close the door. A silent indoor greets me with it's depressing air.
"Home sweet home."
Gosh it is so dusty in here.
***
Around 10 pm and I only managed to clean my room to survive my sorry days. Three months were all it took for the spiders and dusts to change the house into a horror cave. The rest of the house, I don't have the guts to observe.
I finally take out the bag of foods. I wasn't sure if the utility services were still there. But it seems like nothing was cut off.
I chew on some breads I bought. They weren't stale but they definitely weren't fresh. Probably because it has been over 12 hours since I purchased.
The bag with stacks of work paper hangs from the coat hanger with my coat. Tomorrow, I promise myself. I take out another piece and walk over to the bookshelf.
Grandma was a bookworm. Library was her second home. Well, not really. I thing library was her first home. She used to write too. But they were only limited inside this house. She would write in strange characters. A different language that she taught me too.
Later during my higher studies, I searched for the language. It was not even among the ancient language. The only conclusion I could come to were either it was a forgotten language or it was just a part of her hobby.
She called it "Roran".
Roran language.
My body pauses my skimming and I look at the imposter among them. It is a diary among them. I take it out with my free hand.
"Talia Shanonn" is written neatly in Roran language. It is, for sure, grandma's diary. High chance of being a personal one.
Should I respect the dead and not open the content?
I pop the last bit of my dinner and dust my hand in my pants. The layer of the outside looks pretty old. I can guess that it is approximately ten years old. But my guesses are always wrong so I am not sure.
Perhaps I should return it to her study. That is where it should belong anyway.
I shouldn't. I shouldn't. I shouldn't.
But curiosity is dangerous.
I give up and bring it to my room.
I don't think I can fall asleep before reading it.