The Diary of Jane

An uneventful night had ended it all for Jane,

It was dark and the land was beaten harshly with the rain.

Today I talk of what occured with a girl fifty years ago,

Who was then twenty three, living in a small island called 'Amingo'.

She mentioned about her life in her personal diary,

Which I found wrapped in dirt beside a quicksand.

The last page of her diary said, "Sweet Lord", in blood,

And a symbol was drawn of some ancient satanic iron brand.

Carefully, I took it home and started reading the contents,

Jane had written about each day of her life covering all events.

She had written about her dead parents and what bizarre she had seen,

In her dreams every night in an ancient castle where she had never been!

I started turning the pages and my eyes caught a highlighted date.

November 24, 1954. She had mentioned about that castle's bulky gate.

And about a symbol of brass which was embedded deep inside it,

Having three snakes with fangs out and their temples oddly lit.

I quickly turned back to the last page again which had this very symbol,

This time it wasn't drawn using ink but with the fresh decades-old blood.

I was intrigued to know more about the escapades of the innocent Jane,

Because her Diary unfolded those mysteries which brought her a lethal bane.

November 26, 1954. She saw that enormous gate with that symbol again

In her dream. And tried to push it to get through but in vain.

But as soon as she touched the lit temple of one of those ferocious snakes,

A squeaking sound was produced which resulted in the opening of that gate.

She entered it, quite timid, unaware of what lay ahead.

The sight of a magnificent ancient castle temporarily made her feel dead.

And then someone screeched painfully in her dream and she woke up,

Frightened and shocked. Ample sweat occupied her delicate forehead.

Every night she saw that mysterious regal castle in her dreams,

But with each passing day she moved deeper into it's awful gleams.

February 13, 1955, she entered into the Living Room of that castle,

But again that painful, helpless shout forced her to quickly hustle.

Jane mentioned about the velvet carpets of different colors covering the floors,

And about some heavy royal curtains guarding the entry of all the doors.

She wrote about the complex structure of that Castle having many rooms,

And about that peculiar screech she heard of that girl entangled in pitiful glooms.

One day as she ventured in that eerie castle in her dream,

She found a door having the picture of her parents hung loosely.

She was startled. A wave of nostalgia asked her frightened heart to scream.

But, on the contrary, she pushed the door quietly, carefully.

And they were there. Her parents stood grinning before her.

Her eyes were welled to see them alive and in full flutter.

She ran to hug them, with a joy more intensified than the pain she had

Of losing them when she was merely a girl trying to figure out the meaning of 'glad'.

But the horror of truth horrified the ecstatic Jane with a horrible impact,

She passed through her parents and certainly they were not intact!

She retraced her steps in confusion wondering what the hell was happening,

But before she could make out, she heard someone nearby sweetly sing.

She shut that door in bewilderment and moved to the next one with fright,

There was a blanket of darkness in the corridor and even the moon didn't look bright.

Jane tried to gulp her fear which was suspended in the middle of her throat,

When she saw that who was the one singing that gentle musical note.

It was her! The young 5-year old Jane singing Jingle Bell Rock on piano

And beside her, her mother stood impressed praising her as a true aficionado.

Muddled, Jane tried to figure out if all this had occured with her in her past.

Flabbergasted, she recalled that it was the very night when she had been with her parents last!

Again tears brimmed up in her red, swollen eyes.

As in dreams, she had entered into an area unstained by any lies.

Hastily she shut that door and went to the next one swinging it open,

The sight of her whimpering parents totally left her to wither in anxiety with hopes broken.

Jane saw those robbers again whose faint imprint always hovered above her,

But this time they were more precise and clear, nothing was a blur.

Her mom had pushed the little sleeping kid beneath the bed when her neck was twisted

And her father's eyes rolled on the floor when the robber’s attack, he resisted.

Jane felt numb after seeing the terrible death her parents had undergone,

And wished that she was there in the past, but now no-one she could warn.

She collapsed on the floor after she saw the blood and pain her parents endured,

And with how much difficulty and grace she was comfortably secured!

Before coming back to life from her dream she noticed a symbol printed on the robber's arm,

She recognised it almost immediately - 3 snakes with temples lit radiating an awkward charm.

And then she saw that castle fading away, slowly but effectively,

As the morning sun rose up from the horizon, emitting energy of frolic brightly.

August 11, 1958 - Jane had entered almost all the doors of the castle with will,

Including the one which had her love kissing her a goodbye forever when she stood still.

And yet there was one left behind which came that troublesome shriek, which she always heard,

Today that mystery forced her to push that door to see what actually behind it occured.

Trembling, Jane wanted to uncover another chapter of her morose, rueful past,

But she realized that the time it showed had not passed, instead it was coming to her fast.

There in front of her she stood. A frightful Jane with eyes lit from the nearby burning fire

And with that white hot brand which a man was taking towards her with eyes of pure ire.

She struggled. She tried to protect herself from charring due to that hot object.

Her victory never materialised. She was struck harsh with a knife on her heart- the God's widget.

She flinched and fell on the floor and screamed as the man lowered the brand towards her,

And those little three snakes on his arm made it all clear, yet again nothing was a blur.

The living Jane recoiled, almost dead to see how she bleeded from everywhere.

The eyes of the dying Jane glistened with the meaningless tears of hope appearing to glare.

The petrified Jane allowed to meet her eyes with the moaning dying Jane,

Her grief subdued the noise of the laughter of those assassins who definitely had no shame.

Intrigued to know what happened next with that cursed Jane, I turned the next page.

But it was blank. August 12, 1958 had no mention of any event or any dream of her.

Confused, I paused on the next date, the 13th of August of Nineteen fifty eight,

Where the words, 'Sweet Lord' and that symbol juddered me strongly with an internal stir.

My mind asked me many questions, the obvious one being, 'What happened to her?

Why did she write the last page of her Diary with perhaps, her own blood?

Why did she not reveal the experience she had on the next night of August Eleven,

Why did she make a reference of only the master of this land and the Heaven?'

There was something more, a lot more to the visions she came across in her dreams,

They showed her the past she had lived and also some mysterious gleams,

Like the symbol she always saw and yet she had nothing to do with it for sure.

Was the fate Jane saw for her behind the last door real, having no cure?

This was the story of a girl who died enigmatically within the shadows of her mind,

No one knows what actually happened to the young Jane who was so sublime.

I certainly found her Diary but still there were many mysteries to correctly unfold,

Because what she saw in her dream on August 12, 1958, the Diary of Jane never told.