A Brand New Notebook

((who is morgan??))


There is a tiny, spiral bound notebook with large font in in the bottom right corner proclaiming that it indeed has "250 sheets!", the cover is a terrible maroon shade, with the oily traces of fingerprints that are just barely visible in the right light. There is writing across the middle of the cover in sloppy cursive saying: "Morgan's Journal. DO NOT TOUCH!!!". 

Will you open the journal?
    >Heck Yes!
    >Umm...No...

>Umm...No...
    You decide to leave the journal alone and go about your daily business.

>Heck Yes!
    You carefully lift the cover, casting a hurried glance over your shoulder to make sure no-one catches you snooping...

Entry One
    Wow okay I don't know how to start this does this count as a diary ew? Uh, Hi. This is going to be where I keep track of my thoughts, I guess. This seemed like a good idea before but now that I'm actually writing in here this makes me feel a little self-conscious. Ah..........................Oh well. It's not like anyone is going to read this anyways, right?
    So, I've only just arrived here, on this island. They call the big castle Foresta, and to be honest, I'm not quite sure why I'm here. I vaguely remember a sort of tug in the back of my mind..........But I guess that doesn't matter now.
    They told me I belong in Diamond. I don't really know what that means. 

The writing stops there, with no signature at the bottom or anything. It feels almost like an incomplete thought.

Continuation of Entry One

    I miss my parents.

 - Morgan C.H.

    "I have given my name and my day clothes up to the nurses/my history to the anesthetist and my body to surgeons."

-Sylvia Plath, Tulips

Entry Two

    When I was four years old my mother believed that I was a blessed child. While all of my siblings had been temperamental and prone to the accidents that children usually have, I had never been sick, never gotten bruises or scrapes or anything. Mother told me that the angels were watching over me, making sure that I was protected from the world. I wish she had stayed ignorant for just a little longer.
    When I was six years old, my powers had grown noticeably stronger. My powers have always been a part of me, but they were never strong enough to notice until I broke my arm falling from the monkey bars in the park one day. Mother saw the blood and panicked, but then the wound began to mend itself. She was horrified. 
    When I was six years old my mother believed that I was a cursed child, that I was a changeling, that I was not her son; how could I be her son when I was so unnatural? She was terrified of me.
    I was terrified of myself. 
    When I was eight years old, my mother took me in to a laboratory for testing.

    I don't remember much of that year besides needles and pain. Maybe it was all a nightmare. Maybe I'm making those memories up.

-Morgan C.H.

Continue reading?
    >Yeeeeeeeeah. Sure. Why not?
    >Naw.
    >Frick No.

>Frick No.
    You throw the journal away from you, not really caring where it lands. That was such a waste of time. You don't even notice the boy standing right behind you until you bump into him in your hasty retreat. 
    "Uh...Who are you?"

>Naw.
    You close the journal carefully and sneak out of the room. A boy enters the room just as you leave it.

>Yeeeeeeeeah. Sure. Why not?
    You flip the page and begin reading...

Entry Three
    On my first day in Foresta, I washed up -
    "Excuse me?" A boy's thin and unamused voice interrupts your reading. Crap. "Who are you?" Oh crap crap crap crap.
   
What will you do next?

    "Words, Words, Words."

-William Shakespeare, Hamlet

What will you do next?
    >RUN!

>RUN!
    You smack the boy over the head with the journal and snatch it back, running out of the room. You are absolutely going to finish reading this, private or not. You can distantly hear the boy shouting after you, but you quickly hide in an empty classroom to finish your afternoon read. 

Continuation of Entry Three
    On my first day in Foresta, I washed up on the shores of the beach. All I had were my suitcase (thankfully waterproof) and my soaked clothes. I wandered around the forest for quite a while, unsure of where I was or what to do...the aching tug in the back of my mind the one that had brought me to the island, I suppose, had finally stopped. 
    Eventually, I found someone in the little village on the island who told me to go to the castle - the school. I can't recall who they were, or even what they looked like...

There are some ripped out and torn pages in the journal.

 - and, wouldn't you believe it, I tripped over a tree root. How embar -


That was when I saw it. A large figure hiding amongst the trees, dark and intimidating in it's sheer personification of the unknown. I jumped when it he -

- ...But I wondered, that maybe - 

Entry Eight.
    When I turned twelve years old, I had decided that I wanted to be a doctor. It made sense to me at the time - what better use for a boy who could heal people than working at a hospital.  I guess it never really occurred to me that other people might not want the help of a super-powered freak.
    The first time I healed someone other than myself was that year. They told me that I was an angel, that I was supernatural, that I had saved them from the brink of death (I really hadn't). It was the first time that I'd ever been proud of my powers.
    

Instead of an entry, on the next page there is an envelope. You examine the envelope. 

Morgan C. Howell
**** ********** St
********, GA *****

Rhea Lark                                                                                        
**** Millbrush Rd                                                                              
Bluewater, CA *****                                                                           

In large red writing across the envelope are the words: RETURN TO SENDER. You open the envelope, and are rewarded with a letter. The date at the top of the letter proclaims that it was written over a year ago.

Rhea,
    I'm sorry that I haven't written back in a while. I left home again a few weeks ago. I just...I'm sorry. I hope we can see each other again someday. You know, you're like a sister to me. I miss you.
    I think I'm close to figuring out where the pull - the one in the back of my mind, that is - is taking me. I'm in Georgia right now, and I feel closer that I ever have to the source of the pull, but it still feels far away. It's like you said, Rhea, it only started getting stronger as my powers developed. How strong must your pull be? How are you ignoring it?
    Rhea, they're looking for me. Not my parents. Never my parents. But my brother is - did you know that he went to med school? He said that my powers inspired him. He's looking for me now, there are missing child posters and everything. I don't want to let him down, but I can't go back. Not yet. My sisters are looking for me too. Back when I had just left home, I almost ran into Lily, but she was pretty easy to avoid. 
    Don't worry too much about me, Rhea. I'll be fine. You know I will. 

As Always,
-Morgan C.H.

In smallish writing at the bottom of the letter are the words:

Foresta Academy. -RL   

Entry Nine
    I am afraid. 

-Morgan C.H.

Entry Ten 
    I wish I could say that I missed the home that I had before.

-Morgan C.H.

You jump at the sound of the classroom door opening. It's the boy again. How did he find you?