Disclaimer: I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the workings of W.I.T.C.H. -- I leave that honor up to Elisabetta Gnone. However, I can and DO claim to own this story and its inspired ideas FROM said series, as well as the original character, Sitara Vandom/Amandella Ember.
Note: And this is it. THE final, well, ANYthing, to this story. LoL Makes me happy, yet sad. I just wanna say thank you SO much for all of the support, reviews, and enthusiasm about my story, and to all those who've made plans to write a spin-off sequel. I can't wait to read it! After reading this epilogue, perhaps it might inspire you and give you ideas on where to take this depressing story next! LoL I'm also glad that you've all enjoyed chapter nineteen, as WELL as the soundtrack feature if you used it (if you didn't, you don't know what you're missing. It definitely makes it an even better read!).
Without further adieu, the epilogue to "Requiem for a Dream." Enjoy, and thanks!
This chapter was written/created in June 2006.
This will be the final entry made by me in here, as I feel that I've outgrown the need to write down every single thought or emotion. Well, no. In all actuality, now that I'll be eighteen in just a few days, and therefore emancipated from this rotten hell hole, I can say the truth without fear of being bombarded with unwanted shrinks or something: I've never wanted nor needed to write in a journal over the years. The social workers and all of the temporary foster homes I'd been ushered in and out of "prompted" -- more like forced, really -- me to write my feelings down, seeing as I no longer talk about them. A waste of time, in my opinion, given that I've basically written fairy tales in every journal given to me, rather than the truth; at least, now, thanks to having done so all the time, I now know that I'd make a pretty good fantasy writer.
However, now that I'll be my "own man," so to speak, after this, I figure speaking the absolute truth for once might not hurt. I wonder, though, since it's been so long since I'd done so, if I even remember how to say the truth. No one I'd come across within this lousy system would have believed me anyway if I'd ever bothered to do so . . . to speak of the real reason behind my chronic sleeping problems . . . how my parents had truly died . . . or why I'm utterly hollow inside and am no longer the "bright, generally positive and conscientious" person I'd used to be before magic came barreling into my life without my consent.
Ha. Magic. More like curse.
Sometimes it's almost hard to believe that it's already been two years, almost, since the death of all of my loved ones -- the death of me . . . On the rare occasions that I at last get in at least an hour of sleep, I can see them as clear as day. Most of the time, they're just standing around me in a circle, wearing gentle smiles upon their faces in addition to the same clothes I'd last seen them in before leaving me . . . and then, they just stare at me. But, sometimes, they'll actually move their mouths as though speaking to me -- yet nothing will ever come out, sort of like they've acquired laryngitis or the mute button had been pressed on a remote control to a television set or something.
It used to frustrate me to no end whenever I'd have this dream and not be able to understand their message -- if there even is a message. However, now, I no longer care. The way I see it, whatever it is they keep trying to say but cannot must not be important, as I can still never hear it after all this time.
How does that saying go, again? Oh, right: "The dead tell no tales." I suppose that old adage applies to this case (besides, unless they are saying that what's happened was just a dream and they're actually alive and well, I'm not all that interested in anything else). And in any case, having this recurring dream, or fantasy, or whatever it is has become a bit of a makeshift bedtime story for me, really -- one I've completely memorized and awards me zero elation or comfort.
Even though the fact that I am able to continue to see my lost loved ones within my dreams (which, again, greatly wounds me against my continued struggle to remain indifferent, because I miss them so much . . . not to mention that I also cannot get the way that they died out of my waking mind, which leads me to believe that it truly is my fault that they're gone), making the guilt grow more and more everyday as a result, there is still someone else that I can't help but to miss the most (and apparently so too does the planet, curiously, given that it has never completely been the same or "healed" since that fateful night, and is still in a bit of environmental disarray) and yearn to see again . . .
I can no longer willingly bring myself to say or think of her name, let alone think of her, period, because I know that the pain I would feel to do so would obliterate me . . . but apparently it's not possible to stop. I continue to mull over every "what if" factor imaginable: what if she had lived? What if we had gotten to grow up together as siblings should? What if our horrible father had never hurt her the way that he had?
Every day those questions run through my mind all at once, and every day not a one of them is ever answered . . .
If we had not been born identical twins, I probably would have forgotten the way that she looked, as I ironically never dream of her . . . Well, no. I think I did once, a few days after she'd died. Only . . . she did not look as menacing, sickly pale, or continuously hurt and angry as she had in life. No. Instead, she had been bathed in a glorious, pure white light, with a beautiful smile upon her healthy, warm and glowing face and her brown eyes agleam with overflowing love.
And although her rosy pink lips had not been moving in verbal communication as she continued to gaze delicately and affectionately at me, I do remember that I could still hear her words echoing inside of my head, mysteriously, while she began to explain to me that she did not hate me for her death . . . that she was finally at peace and completely understood her purpose in life and destiny . . . and that she would never fully be gone from my life.
I know there was more that she had informed me of, but since it was nearly two years ago that I'd had that . . . "dream," it's now all just a blur. But it doesn't matter. I'd felt more angry than "at peace" when I'd seen her and heard what she had to say -- and it infuriated me all the more that she had been so "okay" with how her life had turned out.
I mean, what is the point in destiny, if it was merely her destiny to be born, just to die the way that she had, while suffering incredibly so throughout her life along the way? And then I think of my own life -- as pitiful as it is right now. Because the two us had been twins, was my destiny intertwined with hers in the tragedy sense? To become a useless Guardian of the Veil to protect the veils and those I've never met from otherworldly evil, while all the while end up losing those I did know and love in the end?
This is why, as soon as I'm done with this entry, I've decided to officially renounce my idiotic title as Keeper of the Heart of Candracar, call it forth from out of my body for the last time and just chuck it into the river or something.
Good riddance, I say, since it cannot enable me to go back in time to stop all of this from happening . . .
If I could honestly recall one "good thing" that's come out of this nightmare, it would be that, after seeing the true nature of people -- thanks to the numerous characters I've encountered in every crappy foster home I've been in -- I'm no longer so naive. No. I've learned the hard way that there are no guarantees in life, and that you're basically on your own.
And so, from now on, I'm only going to look out for "number one," with myself as my only ally . . .
January 15, 2008
(A.N. Thought I'd be "cute" and date Will's journal entry as my birthday. Yay. LoL Too bad she has my older sister's birthday instead of mine, but oh well. Anyway! Okay. So THIS is the true end, since "everyone" cried to me to release it. LoL But you'll STILL "cry" because this ending doesn't REALLY really reveal much – which, yes, I'd done on purpose once more. Why? Because of its impending sequel. I figured I'd leave saying the complete story of who/what Sitara really was to its sequel, so yeah. Will I be the one to write the sequel? As it stands right now? No. However, will a sequel be coming out? Mmhmm. The only one I know for SURE right now is the one that my pal, Senshi of Valis is working on now, as well as the completed comic book version of this story that my other pal, JayxKay is working on. I can't wait! Anyhow, in the meantime, if there are some things some of you are confused with, please go to my forum for this story to read my spoiler section that reveals some of it. Anyway, thanks so much for the support and avid reading, you guys!)