Marion's Journal & Correspondence

by **Marion Kay** on December 22nd, 2014, 12:06 am

Marion's Journal

Marion has been toting this leather-bound book around since her childhood, and if one flipped through it they could see entries from as far back as her seventh birthday. She frequently wrote here as a young girl, but around 512 AV, the entries begin to taper away and become less and less frequent.

These days, while she still marks down notes and things to remember, personal entries are few and far between.

by **Marion Kay** on April 29th, 2015, 5:22 pm

Fifty-Two Spring 506 AV

Mom wants me to be a gardener like her. She says I have the disposition for it, and I'm not sure how to tell her that she's wrong -- that plants aren't plants at night. I've seen the shadows on them in the dark. I'm pretty sure there's more to them than meets the eye. Something not quite right.

I think dad understands, or at least understands what I've tried explaining to him. He said it sounded like I meant they were "sinister", and I suppose he's right. Then he laughed, so he mustn't actually get it.

They each want me to follow in their footsteps, I know. Dad has tried teaching me to draw before, but I have a hard time keeping my hands steady. I don't think I have what it takes to be an artist or gardener. It just isn't me.

But what is?

I hope I find out soon. I feel useless.

by **Marion Kay** on April 29th, 2015, 5:31 pm

67 Spring 506 AV

I tried talking to the plants like mom does. She said they can hear us, since they're alive too. That's not as reassuring as she thinks it is.

At least they make good company during the day. They don't point out when I stutter.

Uncle B. stopped by today. ~~Dad and him~~ He and dad talked in the living room for a while. I think he brought some new pipeweed. Not much, but enough to keep them occupied for a little while. Then they started arguing again after they ran out, I don't actually know what about but it got pretty bad since mom was at work and couldn't make them stop. I don't think they knew I could hear them.

Dad was really quiet afterwards and went to sketch in his private book.

At dinner mom said it might help the nightmares if I write down my dreams every morning. One of her customers suggested it. I'll try it tomorrow if I can remember.