Homework is cleared and now I can sail for the rest of the afternoon. Who keeps a diary in longhand these days? Why, I do! I truly believe I will never go completely digital. I am far too in love with my Victorian penmanship. Sometimes I just love to make curly-q's and spins and twists with my pen. I used to think my ultimate dream would be to live in a time when I might write with a quill and a bottle of ink by candlelight. I never wanted to be a part of this time as I was growing up. When I pretended to be sick to stay home from school I would lay in bed for long moments in fantasy. I dreamed and imagined that I would wake up one day and I would find my feet on a hardwood floor. There would be a wood burning stove and a light snow falling outside. It would be 1887 instead of 1987 and I was so content.
I wanted that dream to be real... so real, it haunted my mind. I woke up one morning ad thought I felt the Opera Ghost in my room. I felt this hard, pressing suffocation in my chest and I was certain the 100 years hence had come flying into my bedchamber.
Who keeps a diary in long-hand? Why, I do, of course! How else would the ghosts find me? If I could fascinate the spectre of a dashing, brilliant mind departed many years ago, the cool caress of a wicked disembodied rake would slim the fears I feel at the closeness of another earthly soul. Phantom lips, sepulchral love...
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