The Sweet Far Thing Continued…

Hi everyone. I'm really missing the Gemma Doyle trilogy right about now (I only borrowed it from a friend to read *cries*), so I've decided to try out a new fanfic(:

Please, lemme know what you think! Ideas are more than welcome...

Just a little info here: yes, I suck at summarizing (God help me) but I do love to write =D.

I started this one off a bit differently than I normally would have (With Gemma's Journal Entries and all), but after this chapter it will progress into an actual storyline.

I'm actually excited to see where this will go... And yes, I enjoy toying with Gemma's mind =D

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May 15, 1897

It has been nearly a year now.

I cannot take much more of this madness...

Why does life have to be so cruel?

Everyone continually tells me I have to move on.

I have to get past him.

There's nothing I can do for him.

In the beginning they were supportive, my family and friends.

Now that I've disgraced Grandmamma by moving on to America, in hopes that I'd forget, I only have my friends.

They're so far away now they can only offer comfort through letters from abroad.

A small comfort, but I wait each day, seemingly forever, for the next letter.

The post should be here soon...

May 16, 1897

I haven't felt the magic in so long; I yearn to go to the realms...

I miss Felicity and Ann. They were my sanity, and I'm afraid what little I have left is beginning to slip.

They tell me I should be more social, but everyone here is so different from what I'm used to.

I know Fee is hoping I'll meet a man, but I don't think I'm ready for that yet.

I don't think I'll ever be ready for that again...

May 17, 1897

I'm such a horrible person; the least I could do is visit him in his eternal prison.

Oh don't look at me like that! He's never far from my thoughts.

Alright, he never leaves.

The truth is I'm scared to go back. I haven't been through the door since that last... no, I'll not mention that.

It hurts too much.

So much loss...

Yes, not a day goes by when I don't see his warm dark eyes in my mind.

It only hurts to think his name...

May 18, 1897

I feel him with me.

I've stopped telling Fee; she thinks I'm going insane and is determined to come visit before the end of the summer.

I've also stopped telling Ann, for I know it only worries her more.

I don't want to be a nuisance. I'm tired of it.

I try so hard to sound like the old Gemma Doyle in my letters that it looks false, even to me.

This is the only place I can put into words how I feel. Or try. Words can never describe this...

May 19, 1897

I've angered Felicity. I replied to a comment she made in her last letter.

Well, it was more than just a comment; she was shouting at me from thousands of miles away in neat strokes of ink.

I burned the letter, picturing it screaming for mercy and telling it to take back the words.

All I wanted was to show her exactly how I felt, and how she made me feel with her haughty comments.

I stupidly told her that she had never lost as much as I, and that she should keep her dirty opinions to her own filthy mind.

Really some of them, like this last one, are absolutely sickening.

I got a reply soon after. Two words.

Pippa Cross.

May 20, 1897

I don't want to hurt everyone I love.

I'm not naturally full of spite.

Even after my mother, the one person I was closest to, and farthest from on this earth, died I was not like this.

Hateful. Staring down everyone I meet, fearful that I might grow attached just to have them torn away from me.

I apologized to Fee. I told her numerous times how stupid and thoughtless I was being. I know I'm not the only one of us with troubles.

Mine just seemed worse, to me, because they were my own.

And though we are so far apart, I somehow knew she cried with me when I told her I knew exactly how she felt about dear Pip.

She also apologized, a rare thing for Fee, saying she had been more thoughtless than I in her previous letter.

We are planning her visit together again.

May 21, 1897

Though I am now only 17, I feel as though I've lived for hundreds of years.

Like time has worn me down to an empty shell. A walking corpse. A shadow of my former self.

An idea has come to me though, and I have been researching into the past of the Order and anything I can possibly get my hands on that has to do with the Realms.

In short, there isn't much and it's driving me mad.

I've only started this so far fruitless search because I've had a dream.

At least I think it was a dream, though it felt very much like a vision.

All I know is that I was crying when I awoke because I was there in his arms, and never wanted to leave.

May 22, 1897

I'm having the old nightmares again. I almost tried to get to the realms today, just to make sure chaos wasn't brewing.

I lost my nerve at the last minute, too afraid of what I might see.

May 23, 1897

I believe I am honestly spiralling down into endless madness now.

Everyone around me seems to shift their shapes into the horrible daemons of my past.

Sad really, to think that a 17 year old girl, who really wasn't yet a woman, had a past that she was running from.

And that's all it is. An endless race.

We'll see who catches up to whom, for I fear we are running in circles.

And I still see his face...

May 26, 1897

I've stopped leaving my little rented room unless it is absolutely necessary.

I spend my days curled up on my bed with my head tucked under my arms.

I look like a mad-woman. I haven't bathed since my last entry, and the humidity is horrible. My hair is a frizzy mess, and I haven't eaten in a few days.

Every time I close my eyes I see him, but not in the way I used to.

He is changed. The Winterlands have taken him. He stared right at me, right through me, calling me to him in a horribly distorted voice.

His fangs glimmered in the fading rays of a black sun, and behind him an army of Winterlands creatures stood.

Then, before my eyes, he drew out a dagger and lifted it over my head. I heard the wind whistle pass as he brought it down on me; as his face changed to that of Miss Moore's, Circe's face, then someone I didn't know.

Oh she was beautiful and terrible at the same time.

Her dark ringlets fell wildly to her back, and her violet eyes shone with cruel laughter.

I opened my eyes and the vision ended. Or was it a dream?

Did I make the whole thing up?

No, impossible. I had to be there. Yes, I was there in the realms facing my death at the hands of...

At the hands of who?

I could have sworn it was Pippa.

No, it couldn't have been Pippa. Not Pip. Pip was gone...

Or was it a vision? I'm so very hungry.

Starving really. But I'm afraid of what I'll see if I leave the room.

Everyone is turning to horrible creatures all around me.

I should have a bath. That would relax me.

Why should I let visions, or dreams, or even imaginings frighten me?

It's silly really. Oh dear Gemma, what shall we do with you?

May 29, 1897

That's right kind sir, drink your tea. Your missus is there beside you looking at you as adoringly as you look at her.

Be happy; do not mourn for my losses. Oh no, please continue. Don't mind me. I'm only here to observe you.

Yes drink up, drink your tea, both of you.

And you dear lady, forgive me for being so rude. I am Queen Gemma, the true Lady of Shallot, locked in the tower of a mind slowly going insane.

Yes, that's right. Smile and eat the lies they feed you. Do not have any thought of your own.

Never have a worry, never have a care.

Lace the corset on your mind tighter, and squeeze what little room you have to breathe even smaller.

Why are you staring at me?

Oh, please, don't go. You are not being rude. Stare at the eccentric girl in the corner with the wild red hair.

Observe her writing in a journal.

Watch her ask for hotter tea, not caring that it isn't proper to openly stare at all around her.

Watch her heart shatter again and again as she relives her last few moments with the only man she'll ever love.

I would have run away with him. I would have come here, or gone back to India. I love him. There, I've said it twice.

I'll never forget him.

No, do not approach me as if you would like to purchase me. Bow down to the queen of heartache and pain.

Watch the blood freeze in her veins as she sees a passing coachman, thinking it might be him. Him.

No, you may not join me. But you will anyway.

Do not expect me to smile sweetly and welcome your plans for sin with open arms.

No I shall not marry you. Oh, but you hadn't asked that?

Pardon me; I thought that's what all men wanted.

No, you may not see what I've written. It is private and you are being far too forward with me.

Do not look upon me that way.

What is that, you say?

Why am I talking to myself?

It is really none of your business that I care to hold conversations with figments of my imagination.

No, the men and women are not real.

But the real ones are not real. Are the fake ones really fake?

We shall see...

May 30, 1897

Ahh, freedom is laughing at me.

The letters from people of my past are piling up by the door.

I haven't read them.

Maybe they think I've died.

Hmmm

I believe I am in here somewhere.

Locked away in the constraints of insanity and heartbreak.

I too would like to break free, and float away in my little boat.

Even if the blood did freeze in my veins...

It would be a welcome change.

I can see his face....

June 1, 1897

I feel that I am more sane today after reading over everything I'd written in the last few weeks.

I burst into tears over my rant. I need to do something constructive to keep from losing it again.

I'm walking through life with blinders now, telling myself nothing is real anymore. Though it is a lie, it is a welcome one.

I realize that in a few days, when I read all of this over once more, it may not make any sense.

My little rants are not important though.

I'm aware that I've come dangerously close to breaking in the past five days. The 29 of May has proven that.

I believe it is time to move on from my insanity, which threatens to explode at every turn.

Time to take a deep breath and plunge ahead.

The only thing I'll allow to pass through the walls I've put up are these new dreams.

They are of a place I've never seen before; though I'm almost positive it is in the realms.

I've begun my research again, but with a purpose this time. I am hoping to come across this strange new place.

Fee is due in a few days, along with Ann who has declined a new show to be with me.

I'm forever grateful to them both.

Together I am sure we'll figure this out.

And with the two of them here I might be lucky enough to feel almost whole again...

June 2, 1897

There has to be a way; there must be.

I know it's there, lurking just out of reach.

It has to be...

June 4, 1897

I'm going insane again, hunting for the solution that still eludes me.

There has to be a way!

That phrase has been haunting me for the last year.

Louder at points, and quieter at others, but always there.

June 5, 1897

I've reclaimed a bit of my sanity.

This past year has been hell, as I'm sure I've acknowledged.

I miss him so terribly right now, and all the hours I've spent pouring over books are for naught.

There is nothing to be found as far as I can tell, and I'm contemplating giving up altogether on the reading.

As for giving up on him, I never shall. I couldn't live with myself.

I've decided that, for better or worse, I shall visit the realms when fee and Ann arrive tomorrow.

I don't know if I can possibly face the tree, but it will be nice to see the gardens again.

Perhaps I'll see Gorgon. Only tomorrow will tell...

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I'm planning this to be quite long, but I'll update depending on the demand for more, so please review!(:

Studying for Geography Sucks,

Rikki Gryffyn xx