Chapter One
Random Entries from Daria's Journal
(11 years old)
I don't even know why I bother to write on this journal (more like scraps of paper that I found in the manor and bound together with a piece of old string, actually). My day is always the same. My day is never a day without Lady Valene's insults, Babelle's commands, the never-ending chores, the mistreatment from other servants, and of course, the pain and soreness.
Afrella is my only comfort, and unfortunately, she rarely has time for me (or is it the other way around?). Today is one of the rarest days because today, we actually had a conversation together. I told her some stories…stories that I conjured in my mind while I did my chores. They are usually about dragons, ogres, curses, damsels in distress, heroes (who are princes, naturally), villains, and of course, fairies. Someone once told me that there are fairies here in Frell, but I have not spotted one. Well, how is it possible for me to do so if I am not allowed to leave the manor?
Since I cannot see fairies with my eyes, I see them in my mind. I asked Afrella if she knows what fairies look like, and she shook her head. I imagine fairies to be the most beautiful and dazzling creatures with the brightest smiles. They must also look young and have unwrinkled faces since they are immortal.
Afrella tells me that I have a witty and imaginative mind. She says that it isn't natural for a girl as young as me to use such big words. I do not know whether to take this as a compliment or an insult. I don't want to be thought of as "unnatural." However, I suppose Afrella means it the right way.
The silence of the night is making me very sleepy. My eyelids are beginning to droop. I shall continue this tomorrow because I fear that I might fall asleep very soon and accidentally knock the candle. Though I sometimes think of setting this manor on fire whenever I am angry, it would not be funny if it really happened.
(12 years old)
Today is my birthday. Actually, I do not know when my birthday is. June 21st is my pretend date of birth that was made up by Afrella many years ago.
Of course, there was no celebration. Nobody greeted me. Afrella even forgot and did not remember until after sunset. I was hurt at this, but I did not show it. I am angry at her, but I know I shouldn't be. After all, she is a busy woman.
Most children my age have fun parties every time it's their birthday. They would have a delicious cake that was made especially for them, they would wear fancy clothes, and they would do whatever they wanted to do. How fortunate those children are. They are clueless on how bitter life can be.
I spent today, my birthday, tending Lady Valene, who is sick. I should be rejoicing, but she is even worse when she is sick. She gives twice as many commands, and she complains and whines even more. Sir Michael even left the manor this morning. To rest his ears and nerves, I suspect. Of course, he told all the servants and his wife that he had to do some sort of work, but I knew better.
Oh, no. I can hear the one of the servant's bells ringing, and I am guessing that it is the second one. Lady Valene will surely ask for me. If I pretend to be asleep, perhaps they will leave me be. I doubt it though.
(13 years old)
Today, Afrella woke me up at around 3 in the morning, the time when everything is still asleep. Half-asleep, I asked her what's wrong, and she said, "Lady Valene's bell rang just a few minutes ago, and I went to answer the call. But when I went into the bedroom, Lady Valene said that she wanted you. I'm so sorry, Daria. I told her that I could do the job myself whatever the job was, but she became furious and threatened to dismiss me."
After I assured Afrella that I was not angry at her for waking me up, I headed over to Lady Valene's bedroom. I found her sitting by the fireplace. The large, orange-red flames made crackling sounds.
"It's cold in here," she said to me, "bring me firewood."
I knew that it was a lie because the moment I entered the room, I was greeted by a sudden rush of heat. She just wanted to command me.
"There is no more firewood in the storeroom," I said, and it was the truth.
She smiled sweetly at me. "I know that," she said. "Gather some from the forest."
I didn't want her to see me angry again (for it would only amuse her more), so I gave her the politest and most graceful curtsy, and went out to get firewood. Throughout the whole ordeal, Sir Michael remained asleep with his loud snores.
The forest right beside the mansion is not a pleasant place at night. It is owned by Sir Michael, and is still within the boundaries of his land. In the bright morning or sunny afternoon, it is different since the birds and squirrels are wide awake. During the night, it is terrifying. I stayed at the outskirts and did not dare venture in.
I returned to the bedroom with a large bundle of firewood. I saw a look of disappointment in Lady Valene's pudgy face, which pleased me. After I tossed the firewood into the spitting flames, Lady Valene allowed me to go back to my room. I was thankful, though I did not show it.
I went back to sleep at around 3:45 in the morning. At around 5:30 in the morning, I woke up because of Babelle's shrill voice, screaming at me to get up.
I did my chores today, more exhausted and angrier than ever. Tonight, I hope for a fulfilling slumber.
(14 years old)
I wish I know Lady Valene's weakness. Oh, she is an evil wench! Over the years, she has made rude comments about my hygiene, my tardiness, and my weight. I do not care about these types of comments, but now, she has a new topic, and it is the fact that I have no parents and no future.
This angers me a lot for some reason, and it is almost impossible for me to hide my anger. I clench my fists and bite my tongue every time I see that ugly wench. Her hideous face, her dirty nails, and the way she eats irritate me! She is scandalous, rude, cold-blooded, wicked, brutal, and heartless! She looks like a donkey and pig combined, and I wish I could burn all her vulgar clothes, her ugly hair, and everything she owns!
I sound cruel, I know, but this is how I am feeling right now. The fact that I am parentless and am headed to no future has depressed since I was little, and now, that woman has added more to my depression.
Sometimes, I dream that this is all unreal and that I would wake up in a comfortable bed with a warm fire near me. But now, I am trying to stop dreaming. Dreams do not make you stronger. Dreams are useless. Dreams merely blur reality.
(15 years old)
Today, Afrella asked me why I never talk to her anymore. I shrugged, and said nothing. After all, there is nothing to say. She asked me if I could tell her a fairy tale, and I shook my head. Fairy tales are for the weak and for silly girls who hope. Yes, I do have fairy tales in my mind, but they all end with the hero and damsel in distress being killed by the villain.
Sometimes, I think about running away, but then I remember that I have never been in the outside world. I do not know what it is like out there since I have never left Sir Michael's property before.
I am fifteen years old, and I have to accept the fact that this is my life. Why hope? Why dream? Why wish for a better life if you know that it can never come true? Afrella once told me that my name, Daria, means "queen." I laugh bitterly every time I think about it. I am the queen of the mothballs that I find in wardrobes. I am queen of the dirt that I have on my face and dress.
There will never be a happy ending for me. Is there even such a thing?
A/N:
Well, that's the end of the chapter! Is it too short? If it is, then I'm sorry. This chapter is to show that Daria becomes bitterer as she grows older. I hope you caught on to that. I'm praying for a snow day tomorrow, but I doubt that it will happen (grrrr….). Anyway, please submit a review! =)