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The ongoing collection Volume XXIII By J. R. Wagner TheNeverChronicles.com

The Lost Journal Volume 23

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Genre: Young Adult Fantasy. A serial (ongoing) story of a man who discovers fate is not ready for him to leave the dystopian world in which he lives. His adventures are chronicled within. As always, this is a creative outlet for yours truly. No editor, no third drafts. A creative outlet, nothing more.

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Page 1: The Lost Journal Volume 23

      

              

   

   

              

     

 

The ongoing collection Volume XXIII

 

By J. R. Wagner

TheNeverChronicles.com

Page 2: The Lost Journal Volume 23

       

                               J. R. Wagner TheNeverChronicles.com

The Twenty-ninth day of September My nineteenth day in the cabin The year remains unknown Today Bronchio and Swat returned from the beyond through the archway –and they did not return alone. Between them they carried a trinket as if it were heavier than either one cold manage alone. As they drew nearer, the item dangling from bird to bird became clear. It was a pocket watch. Bronchio and Swat hovered just above the ground –their wingtips actually contacting the rough passage floor with each flap, all the while leaving a trail of glowing green dust in their wake. The watch, strung between them by its chain, was just inches above the floor –again suggesting its weight was barely manageable for the birds. The moment they crossed through the archway, they released the watch, letting it hit the floor with a crash much too loud for something so small. The birds immediately landed by my feet looking exhausted. Both nestled their heads into my legs as I stared at the watch. I took a step forward. The birds immediately shuffled behind my legs still keeping their heads buried against my calves. As I took another step, a shudder of fear ran through my body. I recognized this watch. It was the very same I’d seen in the hands of Akil Karanis so many days before. The lid was open –hanging by a broken hinge. The face, cracked glass encasing a strange yellow liquid and strange symbols inscribed behind the floating arm were all the same. The exterior, which was previously polished and clean, was now blackened –charred as if it had been cast into flames. I reached down for it. When my fingers came within inches, a barrier of some sort pushed against my fingertips sending a sense of foreboding through my arm and into my chest. I quickly retracted as if my hand were licked by flames. Had something happened to Akil? Had he sent Bronchio and Swat back with the watch to send a message? A warning? Or did they simply stumble upon it? I had my doubts they would have carried the watch all this way simply out of curiosity. Their present behavior suggested it was not a task they enjoyed. In fact, the pair appeared to be frightened of the trinket. Still, they managed to bring it here. Why? Allowing curiosity to get the best of me, I, once again, leaned forward, extended my arm and slowly moved to grasp the watch. I noticed an indentation in the marble floor surrounding it as if it had the weight of a large boulder. As my fingers drew

Page 3: The Lost Journal Volume 23

       

                               J. R. Wagner TheNeverChronicles.com

closer, again I felt the barrier but rather than a sense of fear, I felt a sense of urgency. Without warning, images flashed in my mind. I saw a cavernous room –perhaps the largest single room I’d ever laid eyes upon. From the vaulted ceilings hung at least twenty candle chandeliers. The walls were lined with fireplaces –each with wood set but no flames burned. A large wooden table sat in the center. The tabletop was empty save one item too small to see from such a distance yet the way the light reflected off the object suggested something metallic. A single chair opposite this object was pushed tight to the table. This image quickly vanished and another took its place. It was a castle –black and ominous perched just off the end of a rocky peninsula. This image was gone just as quickly, replaced by the face of a man. He appeared to be in pain. It was the face of Akil Karanis. One final image, a waterfall spilling into a pit so deep the bottom was only blackness. Then, I was back in the cabin. I backed away from the watch nearly falling over Bronchio and Swat, who were still nestled against my calves. I was hot. I couldn’t catch my breath –couldn’t think. I needed some air. I opened the green circular door and noticed for the first time in days, the sun had come out. As I stepped outside, I also noticed that Bronchio and swat were slowly creeping across the threshold. Since their awakening, neither had ventured outside the cabin…until today.