Diary of Rapture: Prologue 1

Music and Legends

"Jeremiah Douglas, are you coming? 'Cause if you don't hurry up, I'm gonna go paint some more."

I couldn’t believe that I’d let Jeremy talk me into going to the dumb karaoke bar. You’d think that because we’d been best friends since we were in diapers, he’d know better than to drag me out to Mick’s. For crying out loud, I’d fainted when Mrs. Bullsworth forced me to sing the Sunset Valley Anthem in front of the class! There were few things I loathed more than trying to choke notes out in front of other people.

 It was at the precise moment I was pondering this that the first drops of water trickled from the heavens. I groaned, and put up my umbrella. The rain was a nice cherry on the top of the anxiety milkshake.

Wonderful.

 "Hold it right there, Yumi Sora!"

Well, there went my chance to get out of singing like a dying cat in front of other people.

"I can't believe you're actually making me do this."

Jeremy just smirked at me. For a guy who was a favorite punching bag for our school's bullies, he sure was cheeky.

Which was another reason why he should understand that this was a very, very bad idea. He of all people should realize that I’d rather swallow glass than sing in front of a bunch of strangers, what with him constantly being tripped in the halls of our cruel elementary institution and being called names such as “Four Eyes” and "Pizza Face." Not to mention the jerk who’d beaten him up the last day of fourth grade. The bully had finally gotten off Jeremy when my foot had connected with his head, but not before he’d managed to draw lines in Sharpie marker all over Jeremy’s face, connecting his freckles. Yet another excuse not to visit Mick’s Karaoke; if one of his many tormenters happened to show up, the news about how poorly Jeremiah Douglas sang would spread all over school like wildfire, and then he’d be in even more danger of getting teased.

 But Jeremy never cared what others thought of him – even when said others were ramming a fist into his face and breaking his glasses. The taunting and torments just rolled off his back.

“Come on, Yumi! It’ll be fun!”

“But –“

“Don’t you 'but' me, missy. It’s the second to last day of summer vacation, and I’m not going to let you spend it locked in your room slapping paint on a canvas. Now get on your bike.”

 I wanted to keep protesting, but the look on Jeremy’s face made it clear that any attempt to argue with him would be tedious and not worth the effort. So, with a groan, I did as he asked.

As I rode through the outskirts of town, the rain drenching my clothes probably beyond repair, I thought more about Jeremy.

Like I’d said before, we’d known each other since before we could walk. Shortly after we’d gone into fourth grade, the class jerks had started targeting Jeremy. But when they saw me coming to rescue him, they’d say something along the lines of “Weird girl scawy!” and run away like cowardly babies. This was, of course, because I’d once gotten into a fight with Brutus when he’d attempted to flush Jeremy’s head down the toilet. I’d been sitting on Brutus while he gasped for breath, punching him repeatedly in the face until the teacher pulled us apart and gave all three of us detention. Even Jeremy, who hadn’t done anything wrong.

But for me, putting Brutus in his place had been worth staying late after school and nearly dying of boredom.

Because apparently fate didn’t care that Jeremy had it bad enough without the bullies. A year ago, Jeremy’s alcoholic father had thrown his son out of the house and snuffed out his wife’s life like a candle. Despite being only ten years old, I’d nearly had a coronary when Jeremy’d showed up on my doorstep on a stormy night, bruised and bleeding and drenched.

The Social Services had agreed to let him live with my mother and I, because we were the closest thing to family he had. Our mothers had been close friends, so my mother had absolutely no qualms about taking him in. And the entire incident, if anything, had brought Jeremy and I closer. Both of us had total jerkfaces for fathers.



When we stepped into the wood and velvet interior of Mick's Master Karaoke, I could feel a panic attack knocking at my heart's door.



"Jeremy, I don't know about this..."

"Aw, lighten up! No one's even here to listen."



I glanced around the bar, and realized he was right. The room was devoid of people, devoid of sound. The silence, which would have been eerie to many, wrapped around me like a comforting blanket, reminding me that I could sing at the top of my lungs and absolutely no one would hear.

“Alright. Let’s get this over with before people show up.”



I stared apprehensively at the screen. “So what are we singing?”

“Hmm… how ‘bout this?”

Jeremy punched a button, and the familiar sounds of a gritty synthesizer pulsed through the loudspeakers, blasting my ears. I perked up – this song was one of my favorites.

Adrenaline and confidence rushed over me as I grinned at Jeremy. “Let’s do this.”



"Wind me up, put me down, start me off and watch me go..."



"I'll be running circles around you sooner than you know..."



"A little off-center and I'm out of tune, just kicking this can along the avenue, but I'm alright..."



"'Cause it's easy, once you know how it's done..."



"You can't stop now, it's already begun..."



"You feel it, running through your boooones..."



"And you jerk it out!"



I was stunned. I felt more light and airy than I had all summer, and the minutes flew by like a cheetah in full-on run mode.

I was actually enjoying myself.

Well… until we reached the end of the song.





A chorus of boos flaring up all around us made my heart sink like a stone.

The karaoke bar that had once been a quiet oasis was now mobbed with adults. And every single one of them was booing and hurtling insults at Jeremy and I.



"Screw you too, nasty heckler people!" Jeremy yelled right back at them. "We're outta here."

I wanted to cry with relief.

As I slid my microphone back into its niche, the meaning of Jeremy's words finally hit me and I stared at him, dumbfounded. An entire crowd of adults had mocked us, and his response was not humiliation?



"C'mon, Yumi. Let's blow this heckler hangout."

Trying to hold back the dam of tears building behind my eyes, I followed him out of the wretched bar.



We settled on a bench directly outside Mick's. When I snuck a glance at Jeremy, I found no trace of shame in his expression.

How did he do it? How did he manage to genuinely not care what other people thought of him?

It was an ability I'd kill for.



Jeremy has always had some strange sixth sense regarding how I feel at any given time. It somehow signaled to him that I was about to lose it.

"Don't cry, Yumi! You were awesome. Don't let those grouches ruin your fun."

A lump formed in my throat. "Jeremy... they were booing us. Probably 'cause I suck at singing and I'm ugly and -"

Jeremy clapped his hands together, startling me. "Stop. Right. There. I don't know where that came from, or who in the world was stupid enough to call you ugly. But you listen to me, Yumi Sora. You are NOT ugly. You are LOVELY. And anyone who tries to tell you otherwise is shoveling a load of bullcrap."

I had to press my hand against my chest to keep my heart from fluttering out of it.

Jeremy had called me beautiful.

I adamantly tried to thwart all the schoolyard rumors that Jeremy and I were an Item. Partly because everyone tried to pair us together – “The two biggest losers in the Community School for the Gifted! You guys are a match made in heaven!” – and partly because of Jeremy’s tormenters chanting, “Jeremy and Yumi sitting in a tree…” whenever I appeared to rescue him.

But deep inside, I knew I was only fooling myself (and possibly Jeremy). My feelings for Jeremy were far, far stronger than mere friendly affection. I liked him. Big time.

I had no idea how he felt about me, though. Knowing my luck, his feelings for me were purely platonic, and I would totally destroy everything we had together by admitting how I really felt about him.

So instead, I just smiled at him. "Thanks, Jeremy."

Jeremy snorted. "Finally. I've knocked some sense into that self-confidence lacking head of yours. Now let's go home."

The light, floating feelings remained with me as I pedaled back to our tiny house.

As I stepped into the main corridor of the place Jeremy and I called home, I sighed.

Same old, same old. Tacky leopard print fabric and teak furniture, wicker-like carpet, cheap wallpaper. I really wished my mother would get rid of the ubiquitous leopard print, but knowing her dead end job, it wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

Soon after we got home, Jeremy booted up the computer. Within seconds, I could hear the haunting select screen music for Left 4 Dead 2. I knew better than to disturb him - unless his life was endangered, he was well known for shooting the messenger who'd interrupted his zombie hunt.

Instead, I hopped into our tiny kitchen/dining room. (It would be impossible to focus in the living room, what with Jeremy screaming things along the lines of  "EAT GRENADES, UNDEAD MORONS!!" So... kitchen it was.)

And I started on my homework.

Yup, that's right: I had homework before the school year even started. And it wasn't fun homework, like sculpting or painting. We had to solve fifty quadratic formula problems in our notebook.

Were they trying to kill us before school even began?!

It took me three hours to solve the darn problems. Three hours of crumpled paper and smudged pencil marks and eraser crumbs.

Why, Community School for the Gifted? Just... why?

When I'd finally, finally finished my stupid homework, I started to leave the kitchen... only to find that Jeremy had put trash-talking pixelated monsters aside to come in. My stomach growled, and I realized it was six - dinner time.

My eyes fell upon Jeremy's meal choice, and my gut clenched.

"Jeremy, are you eating... ice cream? For dinner?! You know Mom wouldn't approve..."

Jeremy raised his eyebrows at me. "Come on, Yumi. Your mom's working late again, and what she doesn't know won't hurt her. You only live once, right?"

As I thought, I realized that he did have a point. She never checked the trash or the fridge. So I decided to copy him.

The freezer door swung open. No ice cream.

I frowned. That was funny. I could have sworn we'd had at least two cartons...

I quickly checked the fridge... and groaned. My mother had put the second ice cream carton in the fridge by accident.

As I withdrew it from the fridge, I squeezed the carton to check the current state of the ice cream it contained. It was mushy, but hadn't yet melted into ice cream soup. So I decided to eat it anyway.
 

I shoveled the ice cream into my mouth. Its soft, sweet, gentle fluffiness overwhelmed me. After swallowing the mouthful of deliciousness, I grinned at Jeremy. "This is awesome."

Jeremy kept his eyes on his ice cream. "I know, right? We should do this more often."

"Hmm.... maybe you're right about that. Too bad we're out of ice cream now, and the grocery store's closed tomorrow thanks to Leisure Day."

Jeremy sighed. "Darn it. Maybe we should start an ice cream parlor. One that's open every day - including the holidays."

I laughed. "Our employees would hate us."

"Yeah," Jeremy said glumly. "I guess..."

Once our empty ice cream cartons were in the trash, Jeremy retreated to the bunk bed we shared.

But I wasn't ready to sleep yet. My mother would be home in three hours, and there was no way I was missing out on another one of her thrilling stories.

So I settled onto the kitschy leopard print couch, and pressed the power button on the remote.

Unfortunately, all that was on was the current crime report. I yawned, and prayed to the Goddess I wouldn't fall asleep before my mother returned.

My eye were about to close when I heard the front door swing open.

I leapt off the couch, suddenly wide awake. "Mom?"

My mother, Haruhi Sora, had been beautiful once. But after she'd become pregnant with me, my scumbag father had stormed out the door and never come back. Her long, low-wage job at the bistro, which allowed us to keep our house and feed two (now three) mouths, had aged her. Wrinkles now lined her lips and the corners of her eyes, despite the fact that she was only forty years old. But her appearance didn't matter to me. When she was home, she was my world. And I always looked forward to the legends of Sunset Valley she would recite to me as I fell asleep.

When she saw that I was still awake, the corners of her lips tugged into a frown. "Young lady, what are you doing up at this hour? Back to bed."

"Aw, Mom! I waited all night for you to come home! Can't I have a bedtime story first? PleasepleasepleasepleasePLEASE? Look, I'm giving you puppy dog eyes!"

"Actually, honey, your expression looks more like the girl from The Exorcist than Bambi..."

"But I don't see why not. Go get ready for bed, and I'll pick out a story."

"Yay! Thanks, Mom!"

I raced towards my bedroom... and stopped in my tracks when I heard a sound akin to a jackhammer coming out the door. Jeremy must be out cold. It would be impossible to fall asleep with his snoring.

So after changing into my pajamas, I entered Mom's room, climbing on her bed.

Hey, it was a double bed, right? She could share. And there was no way I'd be able to fall asleep in my own bed with Mr. Jackhammer Nostrils making all that noise in the top bunk.

I stared at the door, nearly bouncing up and down with excitement.

When I heard the doorknob turn, I quickly dived under the covers so she would know I was completely ready for bed.

"Goodness, there you are. I checked your bed first, and you weren't in it. What are you doing in my bed, silly goose?"

"It's Jeremy. He snores."

My mother laughed. "All right." She sat on the edge of the bed, opening a book titled Myths and Legends of Sunset Valley.

 

"Tonight's legend is the story of the Diary of Rapture," my mother began. "It speaks of a notebook with strange powers. The citizens of Sunset Valley who believe in this myth say that if a person writes about his or her greatest problem in the diary, it will alter Fate and eliminate that person's dilemma."
 

 "A wish granting diary?! That's awesome!"

 

My mother chuckled. "Yes, but the diary didn't have infinite uses. It could be used only be used once per person."

 

I frowned. "Bummer. So where is it now?"

 

 "No one knows for sure. Hopefully it's not in the wrong hands, because an evil human or supernatural could use it to create a total catastrophe. Luckily, all the rumors point to it being located at the Goth Manor."

 

"Goth Manor?" Mortimer Goth was my classmate. He was one of the kids who didn't think mocking or beating up Jeremy was a fine way to spend their time. "Why do they think it's there?"

 

"Because over the centuries, the Goths have had their most devastating problems evaporate out of nowhere. And it explains the mysterious death of Lolita Goth."

 

"Lolita Goth?" My brow furrowed at the unfamiliar name. "Who was she?"

 

"Before Sunset Valley became the heavily populated town it is today, before Mortimer Goth was born, Lolita was Gunther Goth's fiancée.

 

"But he and Cornelia -"

 

"I'll get to that part in a second."

 

 

"Lolita and Gunther Goth were blissfully in love. Friends of Gunther claim they've never seen him as joyful as he when he and Lolita were engaged. Most everyone was happy for the young couple."

 

 "But there was one citizen of Sunset Valley who was not pleased."

 

"Cornelia Crumplebottom had always had her eye on Gunther. Some people say she liked him for his money, and some say it was his social status that she was after. Whatever the reason, she was jealous of Lolita, and looked for a way to get rid of her."

 

"One day, when thumbing through the history of Sunset Valley at the public library, Cornelia learned of the Diary of Rapture's existence and suspected location. So she broke into Goth Manor, searching every inch of it for the magical notebook."  

 

 "And in the attic... she found it."

 

 

"On the day of Gunther and Lolita's wedding, Cornelia wrote an entry in the notebook. According to the legend, it was about how much she hated Lolita and wished that Gunther's fiancée would die a slow, painful death."

 

"They say Lolita was staring out across the Goths' pond, watching the sunlight glimmer off the water..."

 

"...when it happened."

 

"Despite the fact that it was a beautiful day, free of thunder or rain or even clouds, a lightening bolt shot out of the sky... and hit Lolita."

 

 

"And so, on the day she was supposed to marry Gunther, Lolita instead died a slow, agonizing death. Just as Cornelia had hoped for."

 

"Gunther was the one to find Lolita, on the ground and not breathing. He held her, desperately checking for a pulse... but found none."

 

 

 

 "You know the rest. Gunther ended up marrying Cornelia. And they had a child together - your classmate Mortimer. But the residents of Sunset Valley gossip that Gunther isn't very happy in his marriage, and that he frequently sneaks out to the Goth family graveyard... where Lolita is suspected to be buried."

"And every night, they say you can hear him wailing for his true love."

 

My mind slowly returned from Mom's melancholy, beautiful story, coming back to the reality of the black and white and red all over bedroom. "So why didn't the police question Cornelia about the diary if everyone thinks it caused Lolita's death?'

 

"If the diary exists, honey, then she hid it well. Because no notebook matching the description of the Diary of Rapture was found within Goth Manor."

 

As she explained it to me, the drowsiness I'd when watching that boring TV show returned in full force. This time, I allowed it to claim me, letting my vision slowly fade into slumberland.

 

My mother pulled the covers up to my shoulders as my eyes closed.

 

The last thing I felt was her lips on my cheek.

 

 "Goodnight, sweetie."

 

 

 ***

 

Author's note: Whew! It's FINALLY done! After all the sweat, blood, bruises, tears, accidental postings when it wasn't finished, and obscenities screamed at my compute screen, I FINALLY got part 1 of the prologue out! It took me so long to finish this that it might be a while before part 2 comes out. Plus, I have finals next week, so I have a lot of work to do. DX

 

Oh, and Conner Frio and the entire Working Friends household really did boo Jeremy and Yumi. Jerks. >:(

 

Cheers,

 

-Kamatsuya