Black Diamond

By Laura Wright

They say he's doomed to run the train for eternity, and if you're caught, he'll take you with him. They say his only love was his precious Black Diamond. They say because of his cruelty in life, his death would be the cruelest imaginable. They say now he's merely a captain on a train that transports the devil. Josie is a sole survivor of a prank gone wrong and finds out that some histories are far more than just memories. She is suspected of a crime she didn't commit inside a town that hides many secrets. Sometimes history comes back and some legacies you can't escape.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Black House Books
• Release date: Mar 16, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201386283

Laura Wright

Laura has spent most of her life immersed in the worlds of acting, singing, and competitive ballroom dancing. But when she started writing, she knew she'd found the true desire of her heart! Although born and raised in Minneapolis, Minn., Laura has also lived in New York, Milwaukee, and Columbus, Ohio. Currently, she is happy to have set down her bags and made Los Angeles her home. And a blissful home it is - one that she shares with her theatrical production manager husband, Daniel, and three spoiled dogs. During those few hours of downtime from her beloved writing, Laura enjoys going to art galleries and movies, cooking for her hubby, walking in the woods, lazing around lakes, puttering in the kitchen, and frolicking with her animals.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Her stomach was in knots. She still couldn’t figure out why she agreed. She should’ve protested more. She should’ve done something differently. She didn’t. She should never have agreed to go. She didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t as if they would ever leave her alone if she didn’t agree to something.

She didn’t want to go with them, that night, or any other night. She didn’t want to go anywhere in the dark, especially not with the vipers. The new school may be half the size of the old one, but the mean girls were just as vicious.

She opened the composition book to the first page. She might as well distract herself. Advanced English-Lit required a non-fiction composition and the teacher insisted on journaling. 

She wrote; "You can call me Theodora, or Winter, maybe even Jacqueline or Lona; just as long as it’s a name that’s elegant or beautiful. Anything, but Jocelyn, which is my real name. It sounds like a verb. We’re jostling down the street. My friends call me Josie, which is tolerable, but I would really prefer a different name altogether. I should say my friend, singular. I don’t have many friends. Luckily, several girls have invited me to join a group activity this evening.

Careful. Careful. She had to stop her sarcasm. This was an assignment, not her real feelings. She continued: "We moved to Sunnyside two months ago and the transition has been, as my guidance counselor puts it, ‘less than perfect.’ I think that’s an understatement.

I’m in Geometry right now, last block of the day. Thank God. Mr. Harriet just pointed out the finer aspects of the pentagon, and then threw out the worst government joke I’ve ever heard.

Josie Stapleton danced around the topics, but couldn’t say what she really felt. She didn’t dare confess what made her hands tremble, or her pulse quicken.

She was further tempted to write down her true feelings, but couldn’t. She was the new girl, and she would be the troublemaker.

She wasn’t invited. She was annoyed and harassed into agreement. She’d pushed against the will of the vipers longer than she dared, as it was. It would probably be some asinine stunt, but she had to do it. She couldn’t figure out why they wouldn’t leave her alone. She didn’t want to fit in with them; she didn’t want to hang with them; she just wanted to go about her life in peace.

She couldn’t think of anything else worthy of mention. She’d kept a private journal for years, but didn’t dare turn that in. That act of keeping two journals made it more difficult to translate her thoughts to paper. She regularly reminded herself this was a mere assignment. Proper censorship was mandatory.

Since it was an assignment, it should contain enough information to seem genuine, but not enough to provide any indication of her true feelings. True feelings only created many more problems, and she already had enough of those. She didn’t need further trouble at school. The guidance counselor might even lift her level of issues to, potentially bothersome. She would be the harasser, and not the kids who did it, because she didn’t suffer in silence.

She dodged the clusters of students as they flowed of out of the classrooms. She darted towards her locker as soon as she found a break in the traffic. She had reached a depressing realization in recent days. She’d been certain the rampant petty politics and nepotism wouldn’t be so noticeable at a smaller school. She imagined that if those qualities were there, it would be on such a small scale as to be almost invisible.

Grant High was only half the size of her last school, which presented another unforeseen issue. It was much more difficult to get lost in a crowd, like before. Everyone had a strange habit of knowing everyone else. Everything about her was strange in contrast to others, from her clothes and the purple streak in her dark auburn hair, to her clunky shoes and even her jewelry. She was conspicuous and didn’t want to be. She missed blending in, for then she could evade the viciousness of the school favorites.

She stopped at the machine to get a soda. So far so good. The vipers weren’t even on the horizon. She drank the cold liquid slowly and relished the feel of it. She stepped back into the nook beside the machine. She could enjoy her drink hidden from most student traffic. And most vipers.

She already had a good idea what the outing would involve. It was an attempt to humiliate her. She’d seen it so many times at her old school that the threat had lost its potency. Although, she never had to worry with it there. The mean girls never even looked her way, and she preferred that anonymity.

She’d never been popular, would never be popular, and that was fine. She preferred the social outskirts. She didn’t want to be understood. She didn’t need peer validation or acceptance. She liked being her own person, her own individual.

The world had enough bizarre popularity contests, where everyone must like and accept everyone else, so long as you’re part of their clique. She didn’t want to fit in if she couldn’t be herself. The current goal was to humor them; to prove she wouldn’t be their entertainment; maybe then, the vipers wouldn’t bother her anymore.

She had called mean girls vipers for as long as she’d been in school. From her first experience watching them in elementary school. She thought of serpents as soon as she saw them attack: secretive, clannish, devious. They seem to have natural radar to locate the weakest and most vulnerable targets. They attacked without provocation or mercy. The group here was just the same. They were a cruel group no matter where they lived, and one that only accepted others who were equally cruel.

Her father’s company transferred him to Sunnyside two months earlier. She was grateful to leave the last school. It was larger, but didn’t have any programs for burgeoning writers. Her old school focused almost exclusively on sports and athletes, as opposed to intellectual or artistic realms. In truth, Grant wasn’t that bad. They had extensive coursework for all things English and Literature.

She stepped out of the nook to look for Emily, but she couldn’t see her anywhere. Emily was more fun and more fascinating than a million vipers put together. Emily had high-functioning autism and her literal perspective offered ideas and theories she’d never considered. If she had just a fraction of Emily’s focus, it wouldn’t take her any time to author her first book.

The friendship also helped her improve her own grammar skills, and her communication skills overall. Most modern English conversation was a collection of sarcasm and figures-of-speech. People no longer really spoke in complete sentences or voluntarily improved their vocabulary. Most of the modifiers used in conversation today were one of seven swear words. It was sad. And alarming.

Emily didn’t understand verbal abstracts with any fluency. Since she couldn’t use clichés around her, it inspired her to perfect and expand her own vocabulary. Luckily, Emily bypassed college level vocabulary studies in middle school.

She clutched the strap of her pack when the vipers rounded the corner ahead. She quickly began to rummage through her backpack. She hoped they would just pass by. As luck would have it, instead of going towards the door, they approached her. She heard Monica’s Hello Kitty keychain jingle. Remember Josie, we’ll be by your house at ten tonight.

They smirked as they walked off. One of the minor moons that always orbit such bright people called back, be there or be square... and don’t bring the robot.

Was that Steph? Or was it Kathy?