Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Dearest Diary, Spooky Season, Writing

Dearest Diary

Dearest Diary,

I am beginning to wonder when my big breakthrough will happen. Not to be impatient, or ungrateful for the blessings God has put in my path, but it truly does feel like I’m waiting forever.

I plunged all my savings into this move to London, because this is where all the action is, and where dreams come to come true. I don’t regret it. The persistent buzz of the city inspires me, and everywhere I walk, I see people just waiting for me to make them come alive.

Just this evening, for instance, I saw such a beautiful man. His brown eyes bound me for a spell, and I was lost in the allure of his soft, plump lips, dying to hold them against my own for as long as he’d let me.

We danced under the flickering lights, a fantasy finding its way to the waking world as his arms wrapped around my waist, and at last, we kissed.

He was divine, simply too good to be true, and I was intoxicated in an instant. It’s how I get, dearest Diary. I am drawn to the beautiful ones and bewitched by them.

I simply had to add him to my collection. Him and his heavenly eyes, they pulled me from hell and I just couldn’t let go. We walked back to my flat, hand in hand, kissing like an old Hollywood fantasy, my arms tightly around his neck as we fell to the bed, and his blood blitzing the loneliness from my linen sheets.

He’s just so beautiful, even as I write to you, my dearest, darling Diary, his eyes never leave me, one staring with secret desire from his sweet face, and the other, twirling inside of my left hand as I write his story with my right.

It’s such a tremendous tale, dear Diary, but one that the people won’t hear. I’ve lined up all my dolls by the front door, all my girls and all my boys, but as lovely as they are, this city is so busy that London has yet to notice that they are here.

Dearest, darling Diary, I’ve shared you with the world, but why won’t they notice? I’ve plastered your pages on the internet, sent you to publishers and police officers. A hoax, they say? I am wholly offended by the notion, incandescent, in fact. My book, and all the beautiful ones it immortalised is my magnum opus, and it wounds me to watch the world walk by it without a single glance.

This city doesn’t know it yet, but I am the greatest star they’ve ever seen, and one day, they will be dazzled by my dolls, marvelling at my mastery, and then, dearest, darling Diary, at last, then they will finally understand the star they have helped me become.

Love forever,
The Puppet Mistress

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