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16th March 1986/Monday


Dear diary,

My name is Henry Baskerville and I am eight years old. I have just started keeping a diary. I have been in this orphanage since my parents passed away. I do not like it, nor do the other children because the master is not very nice. But I do not need to worry about this any longer. I am actually in the carriage now, on my way to live with a wealthy lady called Miss Westill; to a new place and a new life. Miss Westill is a widow who had decided to adopt me as she had no children. The other children were really jealous of me when they heard the news. I really can’t believe I’m finally going on this long-awaited trip.

Goodbye, dear diary.

Henry Baskerville


17th March 1986 /Tuesday


Dear diary,

I have finally arrived at Miss Westill’s house. She is quite a nice lady. I adore her, I really do. I have never been quite so happy. Well…Not since my parents passed away. My parents had mysteriously gone missing. After months of searching the police found their bodies in the forest drenched in blood. There was a dagger lying beside them. The police said my parents committed suicide, but I didn’t believe them. Three years later, I still didn’t believe it. I knew my parents would not do something like that. They were good, decent people. The last time I had seen them was at their funeral. After that I was brought to the orphanage and have been living their ever since. I- I have to go to bed now.

Goodbye, dear diary

Henry Baskerville


18thMarch 1986/Wednesday


Dear diary,

I have just found out that everyone in this village can do magic, REAL magic. Miss Westill told me this during breakfast today. She even did some demonstration. Well, what she actually tried to do was to make a teapot levitate but the teapot caught fire instead. She was rather annoyed when I giggled, but it was funny. She was stunned when I told her I could not do magic. She said she thought people without magic did not exist and I thought people who could do magic did not exist. I thought I was satisfied when I escaped the orphanage, but I was wrong. I desperately want magic like the rest of the residents here. I wanted to feel I belonged. I suppose humans never are satisfied. They always think about what they do not have instead of appreciating what they already have. Even I hadn’t appreciated my parents when they were alive. But when they died, I feel I would give anything to see them again. Only when they lose them do people realize the full value of what they already had.

Goodbye, dear diary.

Henry Baskerville


19th March 1986/Thursday                        


Dear diary,

i was taking a walk in the garden today and saw a pretty young lady who lives in the house opposite ours. Her name is Rosalinda. We fell into conversation and found out that she is the same age as me although she was several inches taller than me. Rosalinda is a lovely girl and she is quite a powerful witch for her age. She can make flames from her hands and manipulate plants and do all sorts of other amazing things. Then she asked me to do some magic and I sorrowfully told her I didn’t have any magic. She was just as stunned and horrified as Miss Westill. Like my adopted mother, Rosalinda also did not know that people who could not do magic existed. I told her I would do anything to be able to do magic like the rest of the village. Rosalinda said there was one way I could achieve my dream, but wouldn’t tell me. She said it was a bad idea. However, I nagged her till she revealed that there was a witch who was known as the black witch who was a black magic practitioner who lived a few miles from here and she might be able to make me able to do magic. Rosalinda said the witch was very powerful and she could do literally anything. She had never failed to fulfill a customer’s wish before. But she told me not to go and ask the black witch for anything because she was neither honest nor trustworthy.

Goodbye, dear diary.

Henry Baskerville


20thMarch1986/Friday                                                                  

Dear diary,

I am going to search for the black witch. I have not told anyone where I was going, especially Rosalinda as she would certainly try to stop me. I had taken a map from Miss Westill’s private library to use as a guide to get to the Black Witch’s cottage. It wasn’t far and I arrived there quite soon. The cottage was a tiny, it only had one room. The roof was thatched and the chimney belched masses of bright green smoke. Suddenly, I was afraid. But I was not going to give up now. I mustered all my courage and knocked on the tiny wooden door. No answer. I knocked again. Still no answer. Perhaps the witch was out. Just as I was about to turn back the door opened and a beautiful young lady stood at the doorway, “I am the black witch. Do you seek my help?” she asked me. I nodded and she invited me to come in.

Goodbye, dear diary.

Henry Baskerville


21st March 1986 /Saturday 

                                                                  

Dear diary,

the black witch is quite nice. She offered me some cream buns and tea which were very tasty. The black witch did not seem at all untrustworthy and dishonest as Rosalinda had described her. The black witch asked me where I lived and I told her I lived with Miss Westill in a large house a few miles from her. She said she could give me some magic but warned me that it would only work as long as I was in this village. I paid her twenty gold pieces from the money I had brought with me. The black witch told me I had to wait in her cottage for the night till she made the potion I was to drink. I readily consented to it. 

Goodbye, dear diary

Henry Baskerville


22nd March 1986 /Sunday  

                                                                

Dear diary,

the black witch has finished her potion! She said that when I drink it I shall be able to do magic. After a hearty breakfast she gave me a cup which had a turquoise liquid in it. “Drink up” she told me. I obeyed. Immediately I felt a warm sensation flood through my entire body. I looked down and saw that my hands were glowing. I had magic. The black witch taught me a few spells and I successfully did it. I thanked her and told her I would be leaving now. To my surprise, she gave me a nasty leer and asked “where?” To Miss Westill” I said, a little uncomfortably. The witches’ grin grew wider. “Oh, your Miss Westill came looking for you yesterday with another plump lady. I must say, they tasted delicious” The witch said, licking her lips. “She made a wonderful dinner for me and my friends” I felt the color drain from my face. “Y-you-you ate them?!” I said, horrified. “Oh yes” the witch said. “My, they were delicious” I stared at her with real hatred. “And now it’s your turn” she whispered.


Then, before my very eyes, she began to transform into someone completely different from the beautiful young lady she once was. “My dear, now you are mine” she said in a croak which reminded me of the creaking floorboard in Miss Westill’s house. Her grotesque figure made its way towards me. She was dressed all in white and had long white hair. Her eyes were bloodshot and she was stained with blood. Her face was covered in ugly black warts. She gave me a wide smile and I had a glimpse of her razor sharp teeth. Slowly she reached toward me with her bony hand. I desperately searched for a way of escape but the door contained half a dozen bolts which i didn’t have time to undo. Her long, sharp nails, painted black closed around my wrists and she stared at my face hungrily. I broke away from her grip and fled towards a half open window, absolutely terrified. It was my only chance of escape. With a lot of grunts I pulled it fully open and leapt out without a second thought. I set off running. Magical ropes flew out of the cottage window and bound my ankles. I used a spell to slice through the ropes and kept running. I didn’t stop till I reached Miss Westill’s house. Once there I went in and drew all the bolts and locked the doors including my bedroom door and fell into bed. I was still chilled to the bone.

Goodbye, dear diary

Henry Baskerville


23rd March 1986 /Monday 

                                                                  

Dear diary,

I went to see Rosalinda at her house and found her crying. she said she was upset because her mother had gone missing. With a jolt of horror I realized the other woman who came with Miss Westill to look for me who the black witch had mentioned must have been Rosalinda’s mother. I took a deep breath and explained everything to her, including the fate of her mother and Miss Westill. Rosalinda was furious and kicked me out of her house. She said it was entirely my fault this had happened. I still feel really bad for the damage I had caused. After all, Rosalinda had warned me about the untrustworthy black witch. But I had not heeded her warnings.

Goodbye, dear diary

Henry Baskerville


24th March 1986 /Tuesday 

                                                          

Dear diary,

Rosalinda is still very upset but she let me in her house and I apologized to her again. She sighed and told me that she would forgive this time. Rosalinda was just as adventurous as me so we both walked out of the tiny village into the town for a walk. Rosalinda was very excited for she had never been out of the confinement of her own village in her life. Unfortunately a policeman saw us and asked what we were doing out here alone. On finding out we were orphans he sent us to both to an orphanage. To my horror, it was the same one I had left a few days ago to go to Miss Westill’s. “Back again so soon?” the headmaster sneered when he saw me. Our magic no longer worked because we were out of the village. I hadn’t really appreciated Miss Westill before but now that I have lost her I would do anything to get her back.

Goodbye, dear diary

Henry Baskerville


9th June 1997/Tuesday                                                                      

Dear diary,

I stopped writing in my diary since I was sent back to the orphanage. Now, after many years, I have decided to take it up again. I have been with Rosalinda in that miserable place for five years before a couple called Mr. and Mrs. Wonderhill adopted us. They sent us to school. Later on we both got jobs as teachers and lived together even after Mr. and Mrs. Wonderhill died. Even as I am writing this, I am cooking lunch for me, my wife Rosalinda and our eight year-old-son, Herbert Baskerville. We still go and visit the village sometimes but we decided to live in the town. There is always a lot of ceremony when we go to the village because somehow when I had snapped the rope binding my ankles I had also killed the witch. Herbert could also do magic, but only in the village. I took all the spell books from the dead Black Witch’s cottage and practiced the spells in them. I even taught Herbert quite a lot of spells.

Goodbye, Dear diary.

Henry Baskerville

April 10, 2020 17:09

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2 comments

09:46 Apr 12, 2020

I knew rosalinda would end up with him :) ✨✨

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Aishath Saimon
07:18 Apr 13, 2020

Lol

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