Diary Entry June 10, 1926
We are trapped on the island!
Mrs. Semple hasn’t said as much, but from her worrisome behavior, I can tell that is the case. How it happened remains a mystery, like much of New Avalon. Since last night, so many strange things have occurred that it’s becoming difficult to keep track of it all.
I woke up this morning feeling groggy and not myself at all, even though I had slept far longer than I intended.
A surprise, quite honestly. The séance last night had left me so shaken I didn’t think I’d sleep at all.
Imagine my confusion when I woke to the sun high in the sky.
Even more confusing was how exhausted I continued to feel.
My limbs ached, especially my legs. As if I had walked miles during the night and not been fast asleep.
But that wasn’t the only thing strange to happen this morning.
While I bathed and dressed, I noticed that things around the cottage weren’t where I had left them when I went to sleep.
The lamp on the nightstand had been moved, as had my shoes, which sat piled in the corner instead of next to the door where I had left them.
Even this very diary had been shifted around during the night.
When I opened it, I was shocked to see that someone had written in it.
I AM OUT
I knew it wasn’t me who’d done it because the handwriting doesn’t match mine at all. This was large and childlike. Like it had been written by someone who’s never held a pen before.
I realized very quickly that it was Katrina’s doing.
Only she was mean enough to attempt such a thing.
While I slept, she snuck into the cottage and engaged in all manner of pranks, which I didn’t appreciate one bit.
I was heading out the door to tell her exactly that when Mrs. Semple arrived with a sketchbook tucked beneath her arm.
She asked if I wanted to join her for a walk in the woods.
“Just the two of us,” she said. “There’s something I’d like to speak to you about in private.”
Deciding that confronting Katrina could wait, I told her yes, that I would be delighted, which seemed to please her.
We left my cottage and strolled past the giant oak.
Although there was no longer any smoke, the gash in its center was charred and black.
The rest of the tree, however, seemed perfectly fine.
Mrs. Semple made no mention of the tree as we left the village and entered the forest. We continued walking in a companionable silence until she opened her sketchbook, produced a charcoal pencil, and said, “May I sketch you, Daisy? Something to remember you by?”
“Remember me?” I said, suddenly concerned. “Are you sending me away?”
“Oh, no, nothing of the sort. I just wanted a keepsake of you, that’s all. I’m not much of an artist, but I do enjoy sketching portraits.”
“You should draw all of us,” I suggested.
“Yes,” Mrs. Semple said, sounding distracted, as if there were more on her mind than just drawing. “Perhaps I will.”
She instructed me to sit on a rock while she sat on the ground and, sketchbook balanced on her knees, proceeded to draw.
“Do you like it here?” she asked as she sketched.
“Yes, very much.”
“And what do you think of the others? Do you like them as well?”
“Oh, I do,” I replied, even though that’s not entirely the truth.
So far, Katrina has been mean and cruel.
I find Phoebe Minafer to be quite nice, although she can also be a stick-in-the-mud.
As for Jonquil, she strikes me as a combination of the two.
A bit too forthright at times, but generally agreeable company.
Mrs. Semple remained quiet for a moment, the scratch of pencil on paper the only sound I heard. Eventually she casually said, “What are your thoughts about Azra?”
Just hearing the name sent a fearful shudder through me. Instantly I recalled the way they sounded. That horrible whisper! I doubt I will ever forget it, even though I’d like to.
“I do not care to think about them,” I said.
“But you must, my dear. There had to have been a reason Azra wanted to speak to us.”
I didn’t want to think about that, either. I continued to feel revulsion about what had happened the night before, despite being in the bright light of the beautiful afternoon. Even then, I keenly recalled the horror I felt when I saw my own name being spelled out.
“And what reason would that be?” I said, my voice harsh, even though I had no reason to be mad at Mrs. Semple. She was only trying to help me make sense of the situation.
“Clearly, Azra has something to say.”
Yes, awful things. Vile things. And it wasn’t just me they spoke to. I’m certain Azra said something to Katrina, too. From her horrified reaction, I can only assume it was something terrible.
“I don’t care what they have to say. I hope to never hear from Azra again.”
“Sometimes we are forced to listen to things we don’t want to hear,” Mrs. Semple said. “It’s one of the things we do on New Avalon. Listen, no matter how unsavory it might be.”
“Even if they mean to do us harm?” I asked.
Mrs. Semple gave me a sharp look. “Is that what you think Azra intends?”
I had no proof, just an anxious sense that Azra was up to no good.
“I don’t know,” I replied, hedging. “I just think it would be better if we never spoke to them again.”
With a few more strokes of her pencil and one final flourish, Mrs. Semple finished drawing.
She turned the sketchbook around so that I could see her handiwork.
The likeness was so wonderful it took my breath away.
I was amazed at how she had captured every detail of my appearance. It was just like looking in a mirror!
“It’s lovely!” I exclaimed.
“Thank you, dear,” Mrs. Semple said, closing the sketchbook. “I daresay it might be my finest work. Now let us continue our walk.”
We did just that, eventually reaching the cliff behind the house that overlooked the lake.
It was my first time there, and the view took my breath away.
From such a high perch, I felt like a bird about to soar into the sky.
The clouds seemed so close that I was certain I could reach out and grab one.
Then there was the lake itself, which sparkled in the afternoon sun.
The mainland, though visible, looked so far away.
Much farther than the clouds. That’s what I was thinking about—how we seemed closer to the clouds than to land—when I spotted something on the water.
A triangle of white surrounded by the sunshine’s diamond sparkle.
“What do you think that is?” I said while pointing it out to Mrs. Semple.
She moved to the edge of the cliff, shielded her eyes, and squinted at the water. Then she let out a little choked cry of surprise and said, “Gracious! It’s our boat!”
“Our boat?” I said, suddenly worried because I, like Mrs. Semple, knew that it was our only form of transportation between here and the mainland.
Mrs. Semple dropped the sketchbook, turned away from the cliff, and started to hurry away.
I grabbed the sketchbook and followed, barely able to keep up as she lifted the hem of her skirt and dashed through the trees.
Although I’d assumed she’d stop when we reached the village, Mrs. Semple passed through it on her way to the other end of the island.
I continued to follow her, hurrying down the winding path to the dock. Katrina, Jonquil, and Mrs. Minafer, sensing something was wrong, came with me.
“Hey, what’s the rush?” Jonquil said.
“The boat,” I replied, gasping for breath. “It might be gone!”
When we arrived at the dock, Mrs. Semple was already there, standing with her hands on her head.
The boat that should have been tied there was indeed missing.
At first, I didn’t understand how such a thing could have happened.
It soon became clear when I looked at the rope that had once been attached to the boat.
One end now dangled off the dock, floating in the water.
“Did it come loose?” Katrina asked.
Mrs. Semple pulled the rope from the lake, dropping it onto the dock with a splat. “I thought I’d tied it tightly.”
“Could someone have untied it?” I said.
“I don’t know,” Mrs. Semple replied, her voice distant. “There’s no one else on this island.”
“What do we do now?” Jonquil asked.
I, too, was anxious, and asked Mrs. Semple when we might see a visitor to the island.
“Because of its past, many people distrust this place,” she said. “The only one brave enough to venture here is Mr. Ruggle, who delivers groceries and other necessities. And he won’t be returning for another week.”
She said nothing else, for there was no need. All of us knew that until Mr. Ruggle arrived with supplies, we were at the mercy of whatever the island had planned for us.