Lost In Purple
Chapter 65: Purple Parallels (Part 2)
Johnny's POV
My grandfather returns to the living room after a few minutes of being absent. I haven't gotten over the traumatic retelling of everything I've gone through, so I don't really care about what he's about to show me. It is, however, astonishing to hear that we have 'family secret' that even my father hasn't heard of. There could be an infinite amount of possibilities as to why he hasn't been told anything about this, but I would like to assume it's because he wouldn't of cared or simply didn't deserve to be told. I wouldn't want him criticizing my dead family members either, especially when he nit picks every tiny imperfection. Professor King has been quiet for a little while too, but has also become interested in what I'm about to be shown. He takes his seat right next to me and prepares himself by resuming the process of drinking his cup of tea.
My grandfather crawls up onto the same couch my now depressed father is slouched onto, and gently places a medium-sized wooden box on the cushions. He flips open to latches on the front, causing one half of the box to open, and revealing two chains that extend until they stop the lid from opening further. Inside is a red leather lining, and a notebook that looks to be so incredibly ancient that any bit of force would tear it into shreds, but my grandfather is able to touch it without anything bad happening to it.
"Here. Read this," My grandfather says passing the notebook to Professor King so that he could then pass it to me.
When I finally do have the notebook in my hands, I'm greeted with the soft feel of leather and the sight of yellow pages and crazy good cursive handwriting.
"You're going to start from the second to last entry and read all the way to the end. I know you know that the legendary 'Ghost' was our great ancestor who was a pioneer of our modern day lives, but it's time for you to understand the full story. We aren't the monsters you think we are, and youa ren't the monster you think you are. I'm hoping this will let you think differently about yourself," My grandfather elucidates.
Nobody here knows about this even though it's a family secret? At this point it's just a secret that grandpa kept! Why is it that he's only telling all of us now, and how does this relate to everything I just confessed?! "I know this is cryptic Jonathan, but I promise I will help you understand everything once you finish reading that aloud. I'm sure Professor King will help as well," Grandpa adds.
It takes a second for me to fully trust him, which was an odd process for me to experience since I've never not trusted him like this before.
"Yes sir," I answer before seeing my grandfather gesture for me to begin.
23 March 1315
According to my prior entries to this journal, it could be easily portrayed that my life has been nothing but pure happiness, wealth, healthy, and full of everything I've ever wanted or needed. However, that is nothing short of a fallacy and anyone with that opinion should immediately disregard such thoughts. The truth is, my life has been nothing but pain while my profession has been nothing but a living nightmare. While I cannot imagine anybody who happens to be reading this in the future will care about this, I must get this off my chest in one way or another.
It has been one week since my best friend Carina Kennedy passed away from an unknown ailment, completely baffling every doctor and scientist that had come to face it, and I now feel as if nothing in life is worth living for. I remember the day when the Scare Bureau first opened, and all of us Scarers were…scared. We were all told that we would be the legendary role models for the future of Monster Civilization, and we all desperately wanted to reach expectations. All of us were terrified of talking to each other, none of us had a clue what we were doing without the help of the the Scaring Assistants. It wasn't until Carina gracefully blessed me with her presence when I accidentally bumped into her while turning onto the Scare Floor. Her timid yet kind nature kept her from running away and or yelling at me for being unaware and careless while traversing through the hallways.
I remember how no matter what happened to me, whether I was filled with sorrow or as angry as a wild boar, she would always find the time to speak with me. When I arrived on the Scare Floor, she would already be there already wanting to talk. When lunch rolled around, she would always sit with me. When our shifts were over, she would always ask to spend time with me. It got to a point where she knew everything about me, and I knew everything about her. I eventually found enough courage to take her out on a date, of which she accepted without hesitation.
So... Walter knew Carina. Who would have thought that my favorite scarer ever was best friends with Melanie's favorite scarer. The page ended here so I turn the page cautiously, trying my utmost best not to rip the 700 year old piece of paper.
The date went well. I couldn't help but keep my eyes on her the whole night, never failing to listen to her entertaining tales of misadventures and contagious laughter. I was even able to dance with her, which was something that she admitted she had never done before (and she was luckily a natural at it). When I took her home, she told me how she would love to do it all over again. But that would unfortunately be the last time I ever had a happy moment with her.
As time moved forward, the Scaring Bureau was able to find that I was the best Scarer that they had. The amount of energy I produced was 8 times larger than the 'second best' Scarer, and I was twice as efficient as everyone else in the business. At that point, I was a legendary role model. Word got out, and I was soon constantly swarmed by people on the streets. Even the other men in the scare factories surrounded me, and would only ask about how to better themselves or make themselves be like me, while never wanting to know me at a personal level. They made it feel like I had to join their masculinity competition, which nothing short of suffocating when it came to presenting myself in front of them. I was also constantly swarmed by the women in the industry, whom of which would only be interested in starting a relationship with me in order to gain attention and reputation or make their family happy that someone so prestigious had spoken a single word to them. Even though I wasn't looking for all of that, my family expected me to embrace it, all because it would change our lives for the better, therefore putting an unbearable amount of stress upon my shoulders. All of this would go on for about a year that felt like it both flew by within a blink of an eye and yet slowed down to an uncomfortable crawl.
While I will never truly know the reason, I believe this is why Carina stopped affiliating herself with me. I would always try my best to make everyone happy. Whether it was teaching people how to be the best they can be, or going out on my own adventures with them to prove that I'm not some heartless atrocity that they believed I was. Consequently, I was never around to enjoy Carina's company anymore. After noticing this, I found myself being fed up with all this nonsense and would try to find her so that I could escape that I never truly wished for, but whenever I would pick her out of the crowd, she would be facing the other way, walking away from me.
I turn the page again, seeing many parallels between Walter and I. He was doing what everyone wanted him to do, and never doing what he wanted to do. After giving it some thought, it seems that I was blindly following in the footsteps of my family because that's what I thought was right; Because that's what I thought I was supposed to do. It was lucky that I even found a passion for Scaring because I likely would have been on the streets, begging for scraps if I didn't. I begin wondering how else I'm like Walter.
Over the years I would attempt at writing her some letters, or even try to find time to meet with her privately, but I never got a letter back and had Scaring business to attend to. It wasn't until last week when I finally got to see her again, but on tragic terms.
When everyone arrived at the Scare Floor that day, it was announced that Carina would not be working there anymore which made me feel not only a rush of regret, but a feeling of absolute fear. She was the only real reason that I kept Scaring because it meant that I got to spend a little bit of time with her. I had finally found someone that motivated me to be someone that others could validly look up to, but what was the point if said person was no longer there. I desperately asked where I could find her, and was told that she was taken to the Monstropolitan Hospital.
I, of course, was forced to finish my pain-stakingly long shift before I could go see her. When I did arrive, I found her laying on a rickety old bed, emaciated and pale, relentlessly shaking and struggling to breathe. Finally being able to talk with her again, I asked her about what was happening. Fear stricken, I sat next to her as she explained in exhaustion. For about a year, she had been feeling these sudden waves of pains within her chest that would get worse and worse as time moved on. She had been going to doctors routinely for a year as well, and none of them could figure out what was wrong with her. The medications she was given only worked for so long before they had no effect on her, and she eventually ran out of options.
After she was done explaining, her breathing started becoming erratic, painful, and shaky. I could tell she was just as scared as I was.
I have to flip the page again, noticing that this next page had a couple of marks of water damage on them, but was still legible nonetheless.
Little did I know that that would be the last time I would see her. It pained me to see her suffering like this, but I knew that I had somehow caused this. All those times I saw her walking away from me, I bet she was reaching out to me in hopes that she would get help, but I never listened. I told her, "I'm sorry," before she gently took my hand, tears beginning to flow out her eyes, and replied with something that I don't think I'll ever be able to forget. "I didn't deserve you."
She took her very last breath afterwards. Eyes closed, and one last tear rolling down her cheek. Now whenever I wake up in the mornings, I think of her. Whenever I step foot on the Scare Floor, I think of her. Whenever I eat alone at night, I think of her. And I regret choosing my Scaring over her.
That entry ends, and I move onto the next one, which surprises me when I see the date.
16 March 1415
It has been almost exactly 100 years since I last wrote in this journal, and exactly 100 years since my beloved Carina perished. I've thought about her everyday since, and still could not be in anymore agony than I already am when thinking about her. With everyday that passes by I can't help but wonder why I couldn't have been the one to die instead, but I guess God had different plans for me.
Since my last entry in this journal, I have been nothing more than a disgrace, not only to myself, but to my family name and the Monster World as we know it. Ever since Carina's death, I have been searching for whatever amounts of pleasure I can find from people, more specifically, from various women around Monstropolis. From what I can recall, I've dated around 130 different women, but have failed to find happiness from all of them.
I have settled with a woman, but I regrettably do not like her…not even a little. Ever since I was child, my mother told me to find someone special, someone that makes you feel indescribably ecstatic whenever you're around them, but even I have failed to follow that exact instruction. This woman, or should I say witch, has this unhealthy obsession with 'maintaining the bloodline' and 'being the best' because of her family's wealthy status that must be maintained. She is one of the better scarers in Monstropolis as well, so I guess she's developed some sort of superiority addiction. It's suffocating being around her for more than an hour, and I regrettably allowed her to instill those ideals into my son. Even my own family had become like her, doing their best to only assimilate into the wealthy lifestyle, and completely forgetting about their roots, their kindness, their integrity.
For the past century, I have also been consistently ingesting immense amounts of alcohol every night. There were nights where I had to be carried home by some of the city folk (who luckily weren't interested in Scaring and had no idea who I was), and then promptly punished by my wife because I wasn't in the right state of mind.
I flip the page again, feeling a tear fall out of my eye.
The worst part of it all wasn't either of those misfortunes though. It was watching Carina's family collapse right in front of my eyes, and doing nothing about it. After she died, her sister had a child with a nice young man, but soon after that, she contracted tuberculosis and passed away. Carina's father, now daughterless, fell into a deep depression and later committed suicide after finding that even therapy and psychiatry couldn't help him. Her mother, brother in law, and son in law are all that's left. They struggle to make ends meet, wishing Carina was still around to support them through the life of endless work and loneliness eternal. As of writing this entry, I've heard that Carina's mother has developed a nasty case of Laughing Lupus of which I hope doesn't drive her completely insane. I had every opportunity to step in and help them, but I never did out of the guilt I've lived with everyday of my life; I feel like this serves as my judgement for neglecting the greatest person I've ever met.
In my last entry, I mentioned that I couldn't imagine anybody would care about me or my problems. I still firmly believe that with all my heart. But if somebody is reading this, more specifically one of my future grandchildren, just know that everything that has happened up until the very moment your eyes read the last letter of this entry, has had a purpose. You might be thinking about where you'll end up, whether you'll be lost in a society that sees you as someone who's living a life that's simply be given to you, but the reality is, the purpose of life doesn't necessarily show up out of the blue. In fact, at times, life's purpose doesn't show up until someone you love becomes that purpose you've been searching for.
All the times you've been belittled for not being good enough, for disgracing the family name, for disappointing those around you, or even disappointing yourself, shouldn't have happened. You shouldn't have had to bare all this weight upon your shoulders your whole life. Ultimately, it is my fault that you've had to deal with this, but if there's someone out there that refuses to care about all those things, then maybe your life's purpose is to make each other happy; To break the chains that hold you down...and maybe become even better than this family that's been unrivaled for so long.
Regardless of how you feel about that, you should also feel lucky to have been brought into this world, and be lucky enough to have experienced the things you did and the people you've met. And if it so happens that one of those people made you as happy as Carina did to me, then be sure to always choose them over everything else in the world.
Because if you don't, then maybe it's better off that you live the rest of life wishing you never existed in the first place just like I did.
That's the last page in the journal. I look up to my father and see him staring off into space, saddened by what I've just read out. My mother has also teared up, and I think she's feeling ashamed that this family has become so toxic. When I look back down to close the journal, I notice even more water damage on this page and feel as if I have to say something about it. I wipe my eyes and sniffle a little before asking, "Why are the pages damaged?"
Professor King takes the journal and observes the pages carefully before saying, "The damage is only on two small spaces on the page, and symmetrically distanced away from each other, I would assume that the damage in question is actually the dried tears of The Ghost. From what I know, he passed away not long after writing this as well. I'm actually shocked that this has been so carefully preserved as well, this might be the only authentic record of The Ghost and Carina Kennedy as well...and I'm sorry that you all have had to bear this weight on your shoulders indirectly. Maintaining your family legacy for this long is an achievement of it's own."
Professor King passes the journal back to my grandfather, and he places it next to him on the couch. He seems to be waiting for me to say something.
"So…how do you feel?"