The air was thick with the scent of parchment and time—an ancient, woody perfume mingled with the faint sweetness of stories long forgotten. Josh’s breath came out in sharp gasps, and the candlelight seemed to flicker with an unnatural cadence. Each step he took deeper into the library was met with an oppressive silence, as if the place itself were holding its breath. Under the guide of old candle lanterns, Josh’s eyes were dimly guided through the rows of books which slid back into darkness, vanishing into an endless void. Cobwebs embraced the corners, as if honouring October's ancient tradition of spookiness.

Josh faltered in his steps; his mind blown to bits by the bitter revelation that the supernatural realm he had always rebuked now grinned back at him. A category 5 hurricane of shock and doubts brewed in his shattered consciousness. His hand reached out towards the bookshelf, as he tried to differentiate between reality and delusion.

His hand trembled, the strange hum of energy beneath his fingertips pulling him toward the book, as if it were calling to him. It felt wrong—like something from a nightmare that he could never escape. His skin prickled, and a cold sweat broke out along his spine as his mind splintered further, unable to comprehend the horror unfolding. But he could not turn back now. “What in the world…?” The words on the cover blurred before his eyes, his heart hammering violently. Joshua Davis Story. Written by Joshua Davis, Quentin Davis, and Miranda Davis. The names were so familiar, yet foreign—how? His mind reeled—this could not be real. Was this a sick joke? Or was his worst nightmare truly unfolding before him?

Josh’s trembling fingers hovered over the cover, the leather of the book cool and firm beneath his touch. It felt heavier than it should, as though it carried the weight of all the unanswered questions in the room. The hum of energy beneath his fingertips grew stronger, vibrating through his palm as if the book itself were alive, beckoning him. His breath hitched as he ran his thumb along the edge of the cover, fighting the urge to recoil. Could he really do this? Was he truly ready to know what lay within its pages?

With a shaky breath, Josh slowly lifted the cover. The sound of it cracking open echoed through the silence, sharp and foreboding. His eyes darted to the first page, almost expecting the letters to leap off the page at him. The words seemed to pulse with an energy of their own—unfamiliar yet oddly inviting, beckoning him further into their mystery.

Day 1 – The Birth of Joshua Davis

On Monday 14 March 2005, my eyes opened to a white ceiling and with huge figures looking down on me. I was in the arms of this strange man wearing a white robe and a grey striped shirt. His eyes, cold and distant, studied me as he delivered a sharp blow to my backside—a jarring, painful introduction to the world. The room immediately crowded with my adamant cries but a mysterious, soothing laugh soon replaced them. My eyes fell on a mysterious, graceful woman, her presence as enigmatic as the laugh I had just heard, as I was gently carried back to the bed. Her presence was like a soothing balm, and I decided to call off my angry tantrum.

“Hi my silly monkey. It is me, mama.”

Tears fell from his eyes as he read this line, the words cutting through him with an unexpected force. His breath hitched, the weight of the memory pressing heavily on his chest. He had not expected this. Why now? Why did this line, so simple and tender, cause such a sharp sting of emotion? His mind raced, fragments of forgotten moments crashing against the walls of his consciousness. Each recollection felt like a piece of a puzzle he had never known how to solve. He could almost hear her voice, see her smile, yet it felt like a dream—unreachable, fading with every passing second.

He missed her. He always had, ever since that day, the one that had shattered everything. The mother he could never forget, but whose warmth had been stolen from him too soon. The memory—no matter how faint—still clawed at him, a reminder of the hole she left behind. He never had the chance to say goodbye.

As his hand trembled over the page, Josh felt something deeper stirring within him. The hurt—the longing—rushed back in waves. "Hi, my silly monkey." Her voice echoed in his mind as tears blurred his vision, a haunting reminder of the tenderness he could never hold again.

As the emotional turmoil burned his shattered reality, Josh flickered through the pages, desperate to hold onto his memories.

Day 365 – 1 year old

“Happy Birthday my little monkey”

My tiny sleepy eyes opened to a radiant woman, reaching out for me. That was my mama. What does happy birthday mean though? My little nose burst with different odours. I wonder what was so special about today. Mama smelled so nice too, just like the jasmines in the garden.

I squealed in happiness as mama rushed me into the bath. Scrub scrub and splash. Water went all over mama’s smiling face.

Josh’s face lit up, and a small laugh escaped his lips. He could almost feel the water splashing over his tiny self again, the warmth of his mother’s embrace wrapping around him. The sound of his infant giggle seemed to echo in the quiet library, and for a fleeting moment, it was as if time had bent back on itself—he was that small child again, full of innocence and wonder.

But then the laughter caught in his throat, a sob rising just behind it. His smile faltered, the weight of the present crashing down on him like a sudden wave. His eyes stung, the tears falling freely, blurring the words on the page. He did not wipe them away. He let them fall, a silent acknowledgment of the joy he could never recapture, and the mother he could never hold again.

My baby teeth were brushed by mommy dearest as I tried my best to be naughty. But she never gave up on me, instead it made her laugh a lot. But her little monkey was not done yet. As soon as she was done, I ran back to my bedroom laughing my heart out as mama try to catch up with me. Soon, I was caught and mama dressed me in blue clothes which I never wore before. It looked so nice but I do not understand why I was wearing it that day.

A lot of people crowded my home that day. They kept saying this happy birthday to me. Nonetheless, it made me so happy hearing it. The house was weirdly so beautifully decorated. Must have been mama’s work. Where is papa now? Ah, here he comes to hold me. Run...

I was soon held captive by mama as she held me in front of a huge cake while everyone sang this song. I still did not understand why they kept chanting happy birthday again and again. But everyone was happy so mama’s little monkey is happy too. Then mama yammed a piece of the cake in my mouth. Miam miam, so good. I want more mama.

As Josh flipped through the pages, the memories began to blur into one another, their edges fading as time moved forward. The warmth of his mother’s touch, her gentle laughter, and the familiar scent of jasmine wrapped him in a cocoon of comfort. For a brief, fragile moment, it almost felt like she was still there, just out of reach, just a breath away.

But then, like a sudden storm breaking through a calm sky, the page turned, and everything shifted. The weight in his chest grew heavier, the air thickened, and the light in the library flickered again, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch towards him. A cold shiver crawled down his spine as he glimpsed the next memory—the one he dreaded, the one he could never forget.

It was the day everything changed.

His fingers hesitated, trembling over the page. But he couldn’t stop himself. The words stared back at him, more real than ever before. The memory had already started to unravel in his mind. The moment it happened. The moment his world shattered.

Day 7044 – Betrayal and death

“Wake up, little monkey. You don’t wanna be late for your plans or else you won’t have time to meet Ava tonight.”

I opened my eyes to my mother’s gentle face, still as radiant as I remembered. She was always the first thing I saw in the morning, always there, always comforting. I rubbed my eyes and stretched, eager for the day ahead. I scrambled to get up, ran to the bathroom, quickly took a bath, and brushed my teeth, feeling that rush of excitement that only mornings could bring.

I pulled on my favorite fishing clothes, the ones Mama always said made me look like a little explorer, ready for an adventure. I raced into the kitchen where the smell of breakfast filled the air. Dad sat at the table, his phone in hand, scrolling through Facebook. He glanced up and smiled at me.

“So, Ava is coming for dinner, son?”

I nodded, not fully understanding the significance of his words at the time, but feeling that familiar warmth from him. He did not ask for much, just a smile, a nod, and the promise that I would be there.

“Mom, maybe I should spend the day with you guys. I can bail out if you would like. Let us spend some time together.”

She looked at me, her face soft and full of love, but it was just a fleeting moment before she busied herself with breakfast.

As my friends called out my name, I grabbed my fishing supplies and rushed out to join them.

Josh’s fishing trip had gone shorter than he expected, and by the time he returned home, it was earlier than he’d told his parents. He did not want to disturb them, so he slipped quietly inside, the house eerily silent. The only sound was the creak of the floorboards beneath his feet as he walked cautiously toward his bedroom.

But as I approached, a strange noise made me stop in my tracks—a muffled rustling. My heart began to race, a sudden unease curling in my stomach. My eyes instinctively turned toward my bedroom door, and as my gaze flicked through the crack, it froze.

On the bed—my father, lying still, eyes shut, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. But it was the figure above him that made my heart lurch, a sickening jolt of recognition.

There, straddling my father, was Ava. Her face was flushed, lips pressed against my father’s, as though they were in the midst of something intimate, something that shouldn’t exist.

My legs buckled, my breath caught in my throat, my entire body trembling. The room felt like it was closing in on me, the walls pressing down with an unbearable heaviness. My mind refused to accept what my eyes were showing me. Was this real? No. This couldn’t be real. My brain screamed at me to look away, to pretend I hadn’t seen it, but I couldn’t.

Ava—my Ava. The girl I’d trusted, the one I was supposed to meet tonight, was there with my father, entwined in a way that betrayed everything I thought I knew.

Time stood still. The air was thick, suffocating. My heart shattered, the pieces falling too fast for me to catch. My entire world felt like it was slipping through my fingers, and there was no way to stop it. The pain, the confusion, it was too much to bear.

I screamed out my lungs at Ava and my father. Ava turned in horror, her eyes becoming darker, the face she would wear whenever I disagreed with her. Ava snatched my pocket knife from my drawer and stabbed my father in sheer madness. She jumped out of my bedroom window before I could stop her and she spotted my mother returning home. I ran out after her, but it was too late. Mom laid down lifeless in the garden she so much cherished, tainted with her blood. Ava stabbed herself and fell down heavily on the ground and muttered in her last breath ‘Hail Satan’.

I fell to the ground and screamed in pure agony as the horror unveiled in front of me. 

With a guttural scream of frustration, Josh hurled the book across the room, watching as it flew like a missile of broken trust. The impact against the stone wall sent a violent shudder through the silence, and for a brief, fleeting moment, the world around him seemed to still, holding its breath.

But as the book fell to the ground with a sickening thud, Josh’s gaze snapped to the shelf where the other books rested. His heart stopped as he noticed something—the faint glint of another book, one he had not seen before. The spine of it shimmered in the dim light, the cover almost calling out to him with an eerie familiarity. No, he thought, his pulse quickening, but his legs moved before his mind could catch up. He stumbled toward the shelf, his anger still swirling within him like a storm.

There it was. The book was unmistakable—Ava’s.

Josh’s fingers trembled as they hovered over the cover, a flash of disbelief gripping his chest. How could it be? Ava’s memory, the twisted mirror of his own, was now laid bare before him, just as his had been. The weight of it was unbearable, suffocating.