Lizzie’s Diary – Entry 1

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The audio version of Lizzie’s Diary – Entry 1

Two days.

I’ve been here two days. Waiting. Hoping.

You told me it wouldn’t take this long. You said we would find a place where they couldn’t find us. From what Mona says, Jesup isn’t far from us. They can come here. They can hurt people. They can find me.

Daddy will find me.

Why did you leave me here? Why did you want me to stay with angels?

Monty says they haven’t found you yet. They think you left me and ran off. No one’s told me that, but I can just tell. I can see and sense things that no one else can.

You remember when my special color vision started a few years ago? I could see swirls and rays and rings dancing around people. I think I always had it, but I never really noticed it because everyone had ugly colors. Our sisters and brothers were surrounded by muddy water, like they were drowning in the stuff. Momma’s colors looked kind of like that except with more black. Daddy’s color was all black, stretching out in scary spikes. There was some red mixed in, like blood oozing out of a farm animal.

I think I started noticing the colors when you started defying Daddy. Your color lightened so much you actually showed three different kinds; an orangey stripe like an apricot, a bright yellow ring, and further in was a line of cloudy dark red.

I don’t know what any of that means, though. Mona is the only one I told, and she said she’ll help me find a book from the library about it. You know I haven’t read a lot of books. What little I have read was in secret with you. You taught me how to read and write. You taught me how to count and do some math.

You were a better daddy to me than Daddy.

I miss you so much, Clint. I wish I could see you and tell you that I’m okay. That good people found me. I have guardian angels, just like you wanted.

Mona isn’t an angel, but she’s really nice and pretty. I think you’d like her and Monty–they’re twins, but Mona says she’s older than him by ten minutes. It’s funny how protective she is with him. They’re seventeen, and he’s the strong angel, but she looks out for him. He even admitted it.

There’s some darkness here that they aren’t telling me. There’s a cloud hovering over both of them, and I can see it in their colors. Mona’s reminds me of a blood orange, lots of bright fruity colors with a strong red ring in the middle. Even deeper than that–so deep I almost missed it–is the brown. It’s small and deep, but so icky. I think her daddy hurts her, too, but maybe in a different way?

Monty’s colors are a lot like mustard. Dark yellow with brown, and his brown is easier to see. I think it means he’s stressed? His colors look more brown when he comes home at night, and as we talk I watch the brown fade away. Mona says he deals with a lot from a council of old people. They’re a group of angels like him, but they tell him and his cousin what to do. I don’t know who his cousin is–I haven’t met any of the other angels except Chris, and that was only once.

They did have Chris bring someone else to see me the night they found me. They said he was human, too, but his colors said different. He gave off this huge light, so bright and red and white. It was like he was on fire, and it hurt to look at him–like staring into the sun on a hot summer’s day.

He waved his hands over my body, and golden light came out of him and went into me. I felt really warm, and then very strong. Whatever magic that guy had, he fixed me up really nice. I look like I’ve never been beat–and even better, it doesn’t hurt to move or breathe. They say he’s a healer.

I think I hear Monty downstairs. After he saw how scared I was by the lightning and thunder Chris makes when he travels, he started using the motorcycle he and one of his cousins had fixed up. I’ve been cooped up in their house all this time, so he promised me he would take me for a ride around the neighborhood. I want to go out during the day soon, but I don’t think I’m allowed to. I don’t think they told the others about me yet, and I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.

Anyway, I’ll try this diary thing again soon. Bye, Clint. Be safe.


Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

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