The Diary

The Last Dragon

Chapter 1

The girl named Wren entered the bookshop by way of the wooden door on the side of it. The inside was faded and dusty, like something that nobody had taken care of in quite a while. The musty smell tickled Wren’s nose and she stifled a sneeze. One got the feeling, like a library, that you shouldn’t make a lot of noise. Books lined the walls, small books, and big books, books of every color and shape and size.

                The man that came from behind the curtain leading to the back room appeared every bit as old and dusty as the room that was filled with books. He walked with a big black cane, a cane that people would be afraid of. But Wren was neither afraid of the can nor the man.

                “Good morning, Mister Willy,” she called out cheerfully.

                “Yes, Miss Wren, it is a good morning. A new box of books just arrived, and there are a few in there that I am sure you will be very excited about,” he wheezed out. With his frail arms he lifted a large box onto the counter. “Any books in here, you can have free.”

                Wren gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks, I am running a little low on money right now.”

                “Isn’t everyone?” he said, not very cheerfully. “No one comes into my store anymore. I guess it’s the choice between food on the table and food for your brain now isn’t?” He glanced at Wren. “I am sorry; I shouldn’t be boring you with my complaints. I am sure you are eager to get your hands on these books.” He moved out of her way as she eagerly bounded up to the counter.

                She quickly counted the books. There were thirteen, and all of them were old and crinkly with covers that were just about falling off.

                “Mr. Willy, can I take all of them home and then bring back the ones I don’t want?” she questioned. “I have to go home and do my chores, and I know how long sorting these books is going to take.”

                “Of course, actually, why don’t you just keep all of them? I am sure no one else will want them. You are the only person I know who collects old broken books.” He nodded at her, encouraging her to take them off of his hands.

                “All right,” she grunted as she picked up the heavy crate of books. “Thanks again Mister Willy,” she said through her teeth. She smiled distractedly as Mr. Willy opened the door for her.  “Good thing I don’t have far to go,” she thought as she crossed the street. “These books are really heavy.” As she was thinking this a large crack of thunder struck somewhere close by, and it began to rain. Not wanting the books to get wet and ruined more than they already were, she began to run.

                She reached the door to her house just as it began to pour down rain.

                She walked inside and slammed the cherry red door behind her. Inside it was warm and smelled of macaroni and cheese. There was another smell too, one that Wren could not define. She set the crate on the sofa.

                Her mother walked through the doorway leading to the kitchen. Her dirty blond hair was pulled back in a disorganized pony tail, portraying the kind of person her mother was.  “Oh good, you’re home. I have been warding off calls from your buddy Lancaster ever since three o clock. He really wants to talk to you.”

                “Tell him I’m busy and I can’t talk anymore tonight.” She gazed longingly at the crate.

                “What if he asks why you’re busy?” Wren’s mother asked anxiously.

                “Tell him I’m doing Algebra homework, or something, anything. Whatever you feel like telling him.” Wren studied her mother’s face. It wore a skeptical expression. The brown eyes were questioning.

                “Why do you want me to lie to him? I thought you like him.”

                “I do like Lank, but he’s been a little overbearing lately, that’s all, and he’s been getting on my nerves.” It was the truth; Lank had really been bothering her for the last couple days.

                “Well, I’ll be up in my room if you need me.” Her hands were itching to examine those books.

                “Don’t you want any mac and cheese? I made it special, the way you like it.” Wren almost succumbed to her mother’s pleading look.

                “I have some books to sort. If you want me to eat some that bad, you could bring a plateful up to me.” The mac and cheese really did smell good, and Wren’s stomach gave an involuntary grumble.

                Wren watched as her mother scurried off to the kitchen to prepare her plate of food, and smiled at her mother’s attempts to please her. “Trying to best Dad, probably,” she thought to herself. She thought of her father, and when the two of them used to live all the way up in Canada, sitting in his handmade wooden rocking chair that he had made beside the fireplace that he had also built and herself in a lonely little house in the outskirts of New York City, wished with all her heart that she could see him again. Loneliness was gnawing at her heart. She loved her mother, but no one could take the place of her father.

                She sighed as she heaved the box of books onto her shoulder. The weight of them almost bent her double. She took the stairs with small, staggered steps. She walked back the long hallway to her room, opened the door and flung the box of books onto her bed.  Straightening up once more, she drew a ragged breath.  

                Looking around the room, she inspected for anything changed or out of place. She knew how much her mother hated the layout of her room. Three walls were covered with bookshelves full of old books and diaries. The last wall had a large mirror, magnifying her actual library tenfold. Her bed was small and insignificant, as was her dresser. Her books were her primary concerns.

                She dumped the books gently out of the crate and onto her bed. Along with them tumbled out spider webs and dust particles making her bed rather dirty. Wren didn’t really mind though, that is what came with old books. 

                She tied back her short black hair and reached for the first book that caught her eye. It had a dark leather cover and was probably in the best shape out of all of them. She reached into her pocket for the reading glasses that were always there now. She slipped them on her face, the cold metal of the nosepiece slowly warming up to her skin.

                She opened the book. It was around a hundred years old and was a book describing every kind of bug you could ever hope to see. Finding it a little bit gross, and something that could possibly give her nightmares, Wren closed the book and reached for another one.

                This one was newer and had a red soft cover. The title was Love Song and it appeared to be a passionate romance story. Wren flung it on the bed with disgust. 

                The next book she picked up was an old leather bound diary. It looked quite interesting. Wren settled back against the bed and opened the diary. This was her favorite sort of book to read. The name on the inside of the book was very unusual: Dii Martizarin

The first page was mottled and Wren could barely make out some of the words written there. She got out her own notebook and began translating everything she could understand leaving blank spots where she couldn’t read the writing.

 

January 15, 1919

Today, the five of us were summoned….the court of the Protectors. We are to ….. apprentices to The Great Dr….on Master. They showed us the…. It is magnificent; …no other words to describe it. …think that … to guard it. We begin our training tomorrow. …..better …some sleep.

 

                                 DM

 

Wren closed the book slowly. This was the most unusual diary entry she had ever seen, and she had seen a lot of weird entries. What could the person, Dii, mean?

                A light knock on the door broke Wren out of her silent reverie. “Come in!” she called. Her mother entered juggling the house phone, a cup of orange juice and a plate of slightly burnt macaroni and cheese. Wren quickly rushed to her side and grabbed the juice and the plate of food.

                “Here,” her mother ordered, “take the phone and answer it the next time it rings. If that kid calls here one more time, and I answer the phone, I am going to smash it.” She threw a dirty look at the cordless white phone.

                “Its Lank you are talking about, right?” Wren asked needlessly. Her mother nodded.

                “You can eat your macaroni and cheese. Sorry, it got a little burnt. I am sure it will taste the same.” She looked expectantly at her daughter and suddenly Wren realized that her mother was waiting for her to take a bite. She hurriedly picked up her fork and stuffed in a large bite of the cheesy noodles.

                “Mmm… ‘sh really good,” she mumbled through her mouthful.

                The phone rang loudly, and Wren forced down her bite of macaroni. “Hello,” she said answering and trying to sound enthusiastic. Her mother nodded at her and slowly backed out of the door.

                “Hey, Wren, it’s Lancaster.” His voice was excited, probably at finally having gotten her on the phone.

                “Hey Lank.”  Maybe if he heard it from her, that she was busy, maybe then he would leave her alone. “I am sort of busy right now. Sorry, but maybe I could talk to you in school tomorrow.”

                “What are you busy with?” he questioned.

                She decided to tell the truth. “I am looking at some old books I just got at the bookstore in town.”

                “Great, I love old books. Do you mind if I come over?” Oh great, now what could she tell him?

                “Well, I have to ask my mom. She’s tired after a long day at work, you know.” What a lousy excuse. “I’ll call you back and tell you what she says.”

                “All right, talk to you then.”

                She hung up with an exasperated sigh. Did he really like old books or did he just want an excuse to come over to her house.

                She walked out of her door and clunked down the stairs unhappily. Her mother was humming a song from the 80’s as she washed cheese encrusted pans.

                “Mom?” Wren question softly.

                “Yes, darling?”

                “Lank wants to come over and look at the books that I got from Mister Willy today. He wants to know if he is allowed. I told him I would ask you.” Using her fingers she wiped some dust off of the unused part of the counter top.

                Her mother looked at her inquiringly. “Do you want him to come over?”

                Wren hesitated. “No, no I don’t,” she slowly replied.

                “Well, I think you should be nice to him. Remember how he helped you find your classes when you first started going to school. He was the only one that talked to you that day. You should return the favor.” Her mother once again dipped her hands in the soapy water and pulled out a shining kettle. “Look,” she giggled. “All clean.”

                “Okay, Mom,” Wren said, trying not to sound discouraged. She’d thought maybe her mother would put her foot down, and say that Lank wouldn’t be allowed to come over. “I guess I go give him the affirmative.”

 

                Ten minutes later, when Wren was sitting in her room poring over the strange diary entry again, the doorbell rang three times in a row.

                “Hold on,” she called exasperatedly. She pounded down the stairs quickly, but not before the bell had a chance to ring four more time. “Coming!” she yelled loudly.

                She opened the door and a boy about fifteen years of age just about fell in on top of her. “Sorry,” he said as he pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. Dark, shaggy hair fell in his electric blue eyes, almost obscuring them, but not quite succeeding. He was tall and skinny, with thin arms, legs, and a skinny neck.

                “Hey, Lank,” Wren said with an artificial smile that she definitely did not feel.

                “Hey Wren.” He said, with something in his voice that sounded like excitement. “Why weren’t you at school today?”

                “I wasn’t feeling good.” Maybe he would be scared of disease and leave.

                “That’s too bad.” He smiled at her. “I hope you are feeling better now.”

                “Uh, yeah, I am thanks.” She silently thanked God, when her mother swept into the room with a big smile and a plateful of what looked like chocolate chip cookies. So that is what that other smell had been.

                “Hello Lancaster,” her mother grinned, pouring on the syrup. Her smile was sweet, almost too sweet.

                “Good evening Ms. Darning,” he said politely, the perfect gentleman.

                “Do you kids want some cookies? I just made some. They are chocolate chip.” Her mother smiled indulgently. Wren felt sick to the stomach.

                “Sure,” Lank chorused enthusiastically. As he grabbed cookie, Wren decided it was time to make the escape from her mother.

                “Hey, Lank, do you want to go look at the old books now? They are up in my room.” She started walking over to the steps not waiting for his reply. She could hear him following her. She bounded up the steps and back the hall, flinging her door open and plopping on the bed unceremoniously. She glanced at the diary. She didn’t want him to read it, she realized with a jolt. Why was that?

                “Well, it doesn’t matter,” she thought as she stuffed the strange book under her bed. He walked in behind her, licking the remaining chocolate off of his fingers.
                “Wow, your mom is a really good cook,” he complimented. “Whoa,” he exclaimed as he dropped to his knees beside the crate of books. “These look really interesting. Where did you get them?”

                “At the bookstore around the corner.” She was hesitant to disclose the location of the bookstore. She didn’t really want Lank visiting there all the time and bothering Mr. Willy.

                He pulled out a dark green one with stiff covers. “This one is about a hundred years old,” he informed her. She couldn’t help herself; she got down on the floor beside him. “How do you know that?” she questioned him.

                “Oh, it’s just the style of binding they used around that time. Really it wasn’t that hard to figure out.” He looked down his nose at her, and then burst into a bout of laughter. Wren didn’t see what was so funny. She asked him.

                “It was just so fun to know something that you don’t.” He wiped tears of mirth from his eyes and opened the book. “It says something on the inside. I can’t really make it out. It is just… hold on a minute.” He lowered his face to the smudged page. “It says, ‘To Marty Collins Jr., for making my life a story book.’” He smiled. “That’s sweet.”

                Wren didn’t care what the inside of the green book said. If Lank could figure out that smudged mess, then maybe he could figure out what the diary entry said. She looked sideways at him intently studying the contents of the book. What did she have to lose?

                `She furtively reached under the bed and groped around for the diary. Her hand closed on it, and she pulled it out.

                “Hey, Lank,” she said cautiously, “do you think you could decipher this for me?” She handed him the diary. He looked at her questioningly. “I was trying earlier, but I just can’t make sense of it. Just the first entry. The rest isn’t smudged at all.

                “I can give it a shot,” he said as he peered intently at the first page of the book. “Okay, here goes, ‘Today, the five of us were summoned to the court of Protectors. We are to become apprentices to the Great Dragon Master. They showed us the egg. It is magnificent; there are no other words to describe it. And to think that they ask me to guard it. We begin training tomorrow. I better get some sleep.’”

                “Wow,” Wren breathed. “You sure are good at that.”

                “Yeah,” he whispered absently. “I just wonder what it all means. Court of Protectors, Great Dragon Master, egg. I mean, come on, it sounds like someone was trying to write a fairy tale.” He looked at the book closer. “Do you mind if I take this book home with me? I’ll give it to you tomorrow in school.” He looked expectantly at her.

                “Um, sorry, I kind of want to keep it here with me.” His face showed great disappointment. They sat there for a while in silence, with the diary lying between them. There was no way that Wren was going to let him have it, even for just one night. “Sorry,” she said again as she picked up the offending book and laid it on her dresser.

                “I just thought, maybe, if it is a mystery, maybe I could figure it out. I mean, the rest of the diary is bound to have more clues in it�".” Wren cut him off. “That is why I am keeping it. I want to solve this mystery too.”

                It was a little awkward, they both sat there saying nothing. Finally Lank spoke up.

                “I guess I better be going now. I have to study for the History test tomorrow.” He rose to leave. Wren said nothing. It was better if he just left now.

 

                Later, after Lank had left, Wren sat on her bed and opened the diary once more. Now for entry two. It wasn’t smudged at all. She began to read.

 

January 16^th, 1919

Dear Diary,

                Today we began our training as Protectors. It was harder than I thought it would be. They gave us used swords, with no decoration, and told us, that if we worked hard and were good apprentices, then we would earn our own swords. We also got books. They were all about how to defeat Darklings and Lightsbane, and magical creatures like that. It was interesting. I will have to look at it later. Right now I have a sword fighting session with Mrsi, the Protector I am apprenticed to.

                                 DM

 

                Lank was right, it did sound like a fairy tale. Wren closed the book slipped off of her bed. She opened the door and called a loud “goodnight” to her mother, who she knew was still downstairs because she could hear her singing the Lord’s Prayer in what she called her church voice.

                She slipped out of her clothes and pulled on the old fashioned nightdress her mother had bought her. Lifting up the covers of her bed she slipped underneath. It was cold under the covers and she gave an involuntary shiver. She shot a quick arm out of bed and flicked off the reading lamp she had been using to read the book.

                She would ponder what the second diary entry meant when she woke up in the morning. With a happy thought she remembered that the next day was Saturday. She closed her eyes and fell fast asleep.

Reviews

[Luna Azul]

I really liked this chapter it was very interesting