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Dalia Jula is participating in the 5th International Literary Creation Competition, from Șimleu Silvaniei, Sălaj County, Romania and she is 12 years old. She is guided by Professor Judit Zsuzsi Vig at the „Horea” Secondary School. We thank for the participation and wish her success.

Driftless

Dear Diary,
	This is probably the single writing you’ll ever find inside of this empty (now not so empty) notebook, because I, a 15 year old guy named Finn, am dead. And, deceased souls can’t communicate with the living, because the ‘all mighty’ Heavenly Principles imposed thus… Those disgustingly holy creatures sure know their way around wordplay. They also played their cards well to dull around the news about The Drift…
	I have no idea why I am writing a diary entry in the first place. For emotional comfort, to tune down my mental instability or something, I’m guessing… But oh well! Not even I know myself that well. Each human is weird in their own way, so dear reader (or like, diary and whatnot) don’t lie to yourself about humans being normal. Normality is such a controversial subject, that neither you, nor I, should have the right to bring it up. You agree, don’t you? Of course you do! Because I want you to! Writing is so fun to fiddle with. Playing the writer makes you a sort of puppeteer… It’s both enthralling and thrilling! Ah, but who am I tricking, I’m deviating from the subject, ain’t I? 
	I’ve mentioned The Drift before. It’s one of the biggest anomalies known to mankind, globally affecting all human beings, which I’ve miserably FAILED to survive. 
	In my personal experience, I’ve lived the same day for a span of two weeks, while also playing a death game. The game itself was all about trickery, manipulation, elucidation, losing your mind and descending into chaos, just like all death games are planned! That ugly thing tortured me for two weeks straight, until I found it… The glitch in the system that was making me relive everything all over again… The one who made me numb to killing other humans… My torturer…
	He was the one who fooled me, the person that won my trust since the start of each new day. The Drift had metaphorically made me a king, while he was the jester, that one jester who put poison in the king’s pie…
	“Congratulations, Finn! You finally found me out… After killing everybody in just the right order.” he spoke with a mocking tone, like the traitorous jester that he was. He with scruffy hair and odd crimson eyes that bore the name of Roy, was that jester. Lifeless bodies littered the ground under his feet, eight of them, to be exact, out which was a pregnant woman, an old couple, a few youngsters like us and a child. All dead, by my hands.
	I could hear the clouds rumbling above us, and a few drops of cold water starting to come down. This was a sight I should’ve expected on seeing, in the secluded area with abandoned buildings that we were placed in, which was all surrounded by an ominous pine forest.
	“You did well slaughtering the traitor and your sweet little buddies. While also breaking all of those rules I’ve made up…” Roy went on creepily, whilst all that I could do was sit down on my knees, as my gaze slowly moved to the ground and at the puddle slowly building up in front of me. I wouldn’t dare see my reflection anymore, but the face of a king who ended up being the jester on the emperor’s court.
	“You’ve won the game that The Drift had set up especially for you.” that voice of his had trailed off mischievously, making me look up at him as he giggled.
	“Oh, Finn…” Roy sighed. “You’ve won, this is the true end of the story!” his tone of voice was similar to sarcasm, but I could tell he was just playing around with me. 
“And your prize-” he brought his hand out, putting three fingers together.
	“Is freedom…”. Roy flicked his fingers. 
	In that exact second, my heart burst into thousands, maybe millions of pieces, and right out of my chest. I felt nauseous, there was so much red… And the thick, drowning smell of blood… It was all around me… On the bodies, in the water, on my blurring vision…
	Oh lord… This couldn’t have been happening. Roy killed me, and not even in death, shall I forget it.
	“Finn…” he called for my attention one last time, with a softer, more calm tone. “Your soul is finally free.” …
	“Good bye…”
Well, ain’t I a good storyteller? 
That guy had said freedom was my prize. I guess, freeing me from being the one fooled by that one nice two-faced character really is a prize… 
Freeing me from being the jester on the emperor’s court…
Death, can sometimes be the most rewarding freedom.
Even when freedom doesn’t exist.
									Yours truly,
										Finn

Dear Diary,
You who is reading this, I shall inform you that Finn’s passing away was all a lie. Go ahead and decide what to do with all of that information, since believing the emperor whom used the jester isn’t that smart of an idea, is it?
But my whole idea regarding this piece of information is that…
Finn is there, but in the wrong freedom.

									Yours truly,
										Roy