Journal Entry, Dated 02/02
Jasmine
Metadata
Reference Number: BICI/SSP/CRJ0102/004
Title: Journal Entry, Dated 02/02
Author: Jasmine
Date: Written 02/02, approx. year 5607 A.o.W.
Extent: One journal entry, three pages long
Transcript
02/02
There’s a seagull in the lighthouse today that won’t stop harassing me. It must be the one Blossom sang to last night. The damn bird followed me throughout the lighthouse, squawking. When I shoveled wood into the engine room? It waited outside, as if expecting me to bring it a meal. When I went up to the lantern room to refill the oil, it flew into the stairwell and screeched at me. I checked the lantern room for a stray nest, but I couldn’t find anything. It must have mistaken me for Blossom and thought that I would feed it too.
It’s finally gone. This is the first quiet moment I’ve gotten all afternoon.
Warmth above and below, it’s a miracle that fucking bird hasn’t gotten into the Keeper’s Den yet. Maybe Blossom’s right and some part of Dad’s soul is still here, scaring it off to protect my sanity.
…I feel stupid for even writing that. I need to be realistic. After all this time, he’s likely reincarnated. Mom, too. Any part of them I knew has long since disappeared. Remade in the forge, or however Spica would say it.
Dad once told me that when Blossom took over the lighthouse, or if I decided not to become a merchant and stayed here, the next keeper between the two of us should change The Keeper’s Den to suit us. But I’ve been here for years and it still looks almost exactly the same as the day he died. I see the candelabra that was supposedly a gift forged by His Eternal Warmth himself. The ropes Dad hung in the corner for decoration – though I took one to make a new strap for my bag. The decorative spear that he used to call the little piece of Mom he kept with him.
After she died, I nearly flung it off the cliffside… but Blossom saw me, and she started crying so hard I had to stop. I could hardly stand to look at it, just as I could hardly look at anything else Mom left behind without my chest threatening to tear in two. But mostly I couldn’t bear the way Dad got lost in it. He’d tell me he’d be home for breakfast, only for the day to slip towards noon without ever coming home. When I’d go look for him, he’d be frozen in place, transfixed.
Maybe I should have known then. That we’d never be enough to keep him here.
Anyways.
There was already a desk here, and it’s too inconvenient to write anywhere else in the lighthouse. There’s either not enough space to put another desk, or the magic is too strong for me to stay there long.
Even though the Keeper’s Den is right next to the lantern room, the lingering magic isn’t too strong. That should make it a comfortable place to work, but… the remnants from the fireproofing magic hang in the air and clog my lungs like smoke. I know it won’t hurt me, but every time I inhale a deep breath, I get anxious.
Maybe I’ll bring in a new desk, at least. This one is worn. Parts of it are rotten from storms that have blown in… or broken through… mostly broken through the windows over the years. Dad once told me that the furniture has been here for almost as long as our family has. Strange to think that a few pieces of wood can survive for hundreds of years.
I’ve done most of what I can accomplish today. I came here a little earlier than usual, which turned out to be a good thing, but I’m exhausted now. I should make something simple for dinner. Maybe that spiced fish and rice recipe Spica taught me last year? It’s easier than it looks, and Blossom likes i-THAT FUCKING BIRD IS BACK
[NOTE: There are a few drops of dried blood scattered across the paper, which I can’t really digitize. The journal entry continues where the blood droplets end, represented by the block of space here. -Ellsyx]
I don’t know what came over me. I just— I was so mad. That fucking bird flew in and landed right on the desk. It looked me dead in the eyes and squawked loud enough to make my ears ring.
I stood up. The thing hopped around and raised its wings at me, squawking the entire time. And when it jabbed its beak into my hand, something in me snapped.
The next thing I knew, there was a spear sticking out of the bird’s skull.
I didn’t know birds bled that much.
I feel awful. Yes, it was annoying, but being annoying shouldn’t be a death sentence. It was just an idiot bird.
It probably just wanted some food.
I put the body in the corner on top of a few rags so its blood wouldn’t stain the floor. Then I went back and covered it with another rag. I couldn’t stand looking at it any longer.
I should have controlled myself better. But then I get so angry, and…
It died so suddenly. It didn’t thrash around or cry; it just toppled over. It wasn’t a painless death, but… at least it was fast.
The best thing I can do for now is not let it go to waste.