Never Alone Version Two

I'm writing Never Alone, my first completed Movella, again as I want to make it even better. I might even send it to a publisher. Here goes...

After a young thrillseeker gets bored in the summer holidays, she comes up with a fun-sounding, if strictly illegal, boredom-buster. Break into, and take photos of, some celebrities homes. Will Smiths' place= Too easy. Casa de Jennifer Aniston= She could do it blindfolded. However, a dare from her best friend leaves her getting caught by the owner of Mansion Number 3. If that wasn't scary enough, the owner died when she was 12.

Now, 15-year-old Diana has a huge secret to hide, and an even bigger one to uncover. Both could leave her the same way as her ghostly companion.


16. If This Isn't A Dream, Then What Is It?


"Di-Di? Di-Di, wake up! You're gonna be late for school."

I slowly peeled my eyes open, in the bright Californian sunshine. My head hurt, and the images were blurry in front of me. I could see whiteness, which might be my bedroom ceiling. A bright, flesh-coloured orb floated over me, as someone shook my shoulder.

"Di-Di, wake up!" They said, shaking me again. I closed my eyes slightly, then it hit me: Di-Di? I haven't heard that name since I was really little. When my dad was still around.

I snapped my eyelids open, as everything focussed. I was in my room, it was morning, and my dad was leaning over me.

"Dad! What are you doing here?" I sat bolt upright, in shock. He'd left us when I was 7 years old, and I missed him like crazy.

"At the moment, I'm trying to get you up for school. When you're 15, which you are, you've got a lot to do." He said.

I was in shock. My dad, who left us when I was 7, was in my room, waking me up for school. This makes no sense. "Did you and Mom get back together, or something?" I asked, getting out of bed.

He looked confused. "What are you on about? I never left her." Confusion turned to concern, as he placed his rough, work-hardened hand on my forehead. "You don't feel hot. Are you ok?"

"I'm fine, Dad, honestly. I just...I don't know...I just had a weird dream." I said.

"Well no more dreaming, until tonight at least. Now get yourself dressed; Mom's made you your favourite blueberry pancakes."Dad left me, and I heard him go downstairs.

I couldn't make sense of it all. Was it, all a dream? But if Dad leaving was a dream, then was everything else? Like, my thrillseeking? Breaking my arm when I was 13? Tombstoning? Photographing Willow Smith's bedroom? Photographing Jennifer Aniston's kitchen? Breaking into that mansion? Getting chased out? Nearly drowned? The scare? The fight? The Illuminati? Stealing that jacket? The letter bomb? Vienna? The boss? Dying?

Was all that a dream aswell?

I ran to my mirror, where I Blu-Tacked all the photos I've ever taken. The one that stands out the most, is a Polaroid taken when I was 13, after I'd broken my arm. I was sitting up in a hospital bed, with my cast, giving the thumbs-up gesture to the camera whilst pulling a face. Proper crossed-eyes, and kissing-gesture, style face.

It was gone. That photo, along with all the other ones taken since I was 7, wasn't there. Instead, there were photos of a girl I didn't recognise. Well, I did, but she was different. This girl had photos of her in a cheerleaders uniform. She had photos of her in all sorts of girly things. Not one thrillseeking photo, or celebrity home photo.

"No. No, NO! That's not me! I'm not her! I'm dreaming! Please, please, let me wake up!" I sank, sobbing to my knees. It all made sense. This is what my life would have been like if Dad hadn't left. I wouldn't have started thrillseeking. That's why I did it though. I wanted my Dad back so badly, that I did it. This wasn't real!

"Please, let me wake up! Oh please let me wake up! Let me wake up!"

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