Lisa Morgan's Diary (English Version)

I: What is all this?

Blood, lake, death.

The memory hit me when I was putting away a pair of worn-out sneakers that I had lying on the bedroom floor and stacking worksheets that were messy on top of my desk.

I had to send a report that morning and there I was, barefoot, wearing a giant One Direction t-shirt that I used to wear as pajamas and the dress pants I planned to wear to work that day.

A walking disaster, as Beck used to called me.

I tried to get dressed as quickly as possible while my father, downstairs, cooked scrambled eggs and bacon for breakfast, and my mother squeezed oranges to make juice with faint Elvis Presley music anchoring the scene.

Sunny, just a few months old Golden Retriever puppy, my pet dog (he was mine and Beck's, actually) ran around the room and out, then ran back in and out again. Beck said he was a restless dog, I said he was crazy, yeah.

Different hypotheses.

I kicked away the hippo-shaped toy he used to play with every morning, and he ran even faster to go get it.

The memory invaded my mind again.

Blood, lake, death.

This happened a long time ago, turns out...

"Lisa?" my mother called from the bottom of the stairs.

"I'm coming down!" I shouted in response while spraying perfume on my body.

I went downstairs, like every morning, and found my parents setting at the table and Sunny waiting by his plate of food, it was also his breakfast time.

He looked at me with his little head tilted, his tail moved from side to side at a regular pace, and he let out little whimpers from time to time. I walked over to his feed bag and filled his small bowl up to the measure, then poured it into his plate and patted his head a few times.

Sunny began to eat very happily and I sat at the table with my parents, who were visiting.

“This smells delicious, Dad,” I said, taking a piece of toast to spread butter on.

“Eat all you want, sweetheart,” he responded, filling a chip with guacamole.

Breakfast passed in silence. After filling my belly with freshly squeezed orange juice and some delicious scrambled eggs, breakfast was over and my mother offered to wash the dishes, so I took Sunny for a walk before heading out.

But hey, you're probably not here to read how I have breakfast with my parents, are you? This is a diary.  My diary, to be exact.

I warned you not to read this, and yet here you are.  Come on, everyone knows that you shouldn't read a personal diary, but who cares, you're here. I hope you don't get into the habit of reading private diaries, it's not in very good taste.

If you're reading this, it's because you probably stole it from the Raven Town police evidence room, because that's where the document you're now reading so intently was originally located.

Originally it was just the diary in which I wrote clues, suspicions for my investigation, but when I finished investigating the case, I decided to write a few more things, so that if someone like you, who takes private diaries and reads them, would have the courage to open this and dig into its contents, at least have a little fun.

First I want to introduce myself, so you know a little about who you'll be reading until you finish the book (or until you get sick of me).

My name is Lisa Morgan and for as long as I can remember, I have lived in Raven Town, a small town in the United States far from the big cities, a place where the sun never rose, the days were always gray, gloomy and cold with a faint curtain of rain falling from the sky, and a dense fog that spread across the ground of the place. It was a place where everyone who lived there knew everyone, we all knew our stories, we got together at Christmas, we had reunions, we knew our birthdays, simple things like that.