The Purple Diary (An Among Us Narrative)
BY ALICIA GU '23
January 21
It was still warm, still June, when the eight of us boarded that ship. We cast aside our faces, our names, and our grief for thick suits of urethane-coated nylon and the title of saviors.
Find a new planet to inhabit.
Overcome your fear of the unknown, and embrace the fragile hope that rests on your shoulders.
Should be simple, right?
Still, it has been three weeks, and I have yet to overcome my loathing for the cafeteria’s cheese pizza. I was under the impression that our ship was light years away from the death and decay of Earth, but it consumes us even now.
Maintaining the ship has been grueling. We go to sleep with gas stains and grit underneath our fingernails. I envy White, who has been napping in the security room for days now, though I doubt the cameras are able to catch anything interesting; the eight of us are a simple crew. As instructed by HQ, we follow our itinerary of tasks and daydream about the magenta stars and cyan sunsets that await us on the planets we hope to discover.
February 10
I write this with hands soaked in blood and an aching chest. It seems like only yesterday that our biggest problems were the pungency of cafeteria pizza.
Poor Yellow, who found the body. A shy boy, trembling in his suit, his glass foggy with tears. Amidst the blaring speakers and flashing red lights, he carried Blue in his arms and left a trail of crimson.
I never spoke to Blue. We fixed wires side by side in silence every morning, but our paths rarely crossed in this metal wasteland of a ship. I remember catching glimpses of her jet black hair cascading down her back like waterfalls of ink during training. But she was nothing more than an enigma to us, known solely as the slender girl from Taiwan who spoke with sharp glances and the tilt of her mouth. And after we boarded the ship, she, like the rest of us, became nothing more than a color.
I never knew her.
And now, her body floats among the stars, inky locks trailing behind her, stained with blood.
Seven walked back to the cafeteria in silence. Even Red, a boisterous teenager fresh out of high school, remained silent in his seat.
“You all saw it, right?” Green was the first to speak. Her voice quivered, “the stab wound. Blue was…”
“Impaled,” Pink said, wiping away the blood on his fingertips with a silk handkerchief, “most likely with a knife.”
Silence ensued.
It was apparent that we were all thinking the same thing: there is a murderer among us, someone we’ve trained with for years.
An imposter.
“This can’t be happening. Someone--something killed Blue. Oh no...” Green paced around the room, fiddling with the tubes on her suit.
Black stood up. “I bet it was Pink. Look how calm he is, sitting there… like a murderer.”
Pink let out a wry bark of laughter, “How absurd that you would accuse me, when White has done nothing but sit in the security room all day. Unless someone was with him, he could have easily slipped out and stabbed Blue while the rest of us were doing our tasks.”
I could feel the mood change abruptly. We had entered a torrential storm in the ocean, our fragile ships slamming against tides of fear and suspicion.
“Nice try, Pink, but Purple was working in the reactor and never saw me leave yesterday. Too busy napping.” I felt their eyes on me, hard like coals.
“He’s right.”
Pink rolled his eyes and muttered something about “must be both of them, then” under his breath. He stormed off, and eventually, the rest of us went our separate ways.
I write this knowing that any day, I could be greeted with the glint of a knife or the metallic taste of gunpowder in my gums.
April 29
I have not had time to write, as two more bodies have been reported. The stench of death has become suffocating. Only three crewmates remain.
The most recent one found dead was Black.
Black, who accompanied me throughout years of brutal training, the clamor and recklessness of hope pulsing through our bloodstreams at the thought of sailing through the galaxies and an endless black sky. While I was mostly a stranger to the other six, Black and I had exchanged notes in our dormitories and smuggled chocolates from a nearby convenience store together.
I know they are going to convict me tomorrow. They have seen us together on several occasions, unaware of our simple friendship. That is more than enough proof for a hungry, desperate Salem.
Tomorrow, death kisses me goodbye.
It was still warm, still June, when the eight of us boarded that ship. We cast aside our faces, our names, and our grief for thick suits of urethane-coated nylon and the title of saviors.
Find a new planet to inhabit.
Overcome your fear of the unknown, and embrace the fragile hope that rests on your shoulders.
Should be simple, right?
Still, it has been three weeks, and I have yet to overcome my loathing for the cafeteria’s cheese pizza. I was under the impression that our ship was light years away from the death and decay of Earth, but it consumes us even now.
Maintaining the ship has been grueling. We go to sleep with gas stains and grit underneath our fingernails. I envy White, who has been napping in the security room for days now, though I doubt the cameras are able to catch anything interesting; the eight of us are a simple crew. As instructed by HQ, we follow our itinerary of tasks and daydream about the magenta stars and cyan sunsets that await us on the planets we hope to discover.
February 10
I write this with hands soaked in blood and an aching chest. It seems like only yesterday that our biggest problems were the pungency of cafeteria pizza.
Poor Yellow, who found the body. A shy boy, trembling in his suit, his glass foggy with tears. Amidst the blaring speakers and flashing red lights, he carried Blue in his arms and left a trail of crimson.
I never spoke to Blue. We fixed wires side by side in silence every morning, but our paths rarely crossed in this metal wasteland of a ship. I remember catching glimpses of her jet black hair cascading down her back like waterfalls of ink during training. But she was nothing more than an enigma to us, known solely as the slender girl from Taiwan who spoke with sharp glances and the tilt of her mouth. And after we boarded the ship, she, like the rest of us, became nothing more than a color.
I never knew her.
And now, her body floats among the stars, inky locks trailing behind her, stained with blood.
Seven walked back to the cafeteria in silence. Even Red, a boisterous teenager fresh out of high school, remained silent in his seat.
“You all saw it, right?” Green was the first to speak. Her voice quivered, “the stab wound. Blue was…”
“Impaled,” Pink said, wiping away the blood on his fingertips with a silk handkerchief, “most likely with a knife.”
Silence ensued.
It was apparent that we were all thinking the same thing: there is a murderer among us, someone we’ve trained with for years.
An imposter.
“This can’t be happening. Someone--something killed Blue. Oh no...” Green paced around the room, fiddling with the tubes on her suit.
Black stood up. “I bet it was Pink. Look how calm he is, sitting there… like a murderer.”
Pink let out a wry bark of laughter, “How absurd that you would accuse me, when White has done nothing but sit in the security room all day. Unless someone was with him, he could have easily slipped out and stabbed Blue while the rest of us were doing our tasks.”
I could feel the mood change abruptly. We had entered a torrential storm in the ocean, our fragile ships slamming against tides of fear and suspicion.
“Nice try, Pink, but Purple was working in the reactor and never saw me leave yesterday. Too busy napping.” I felt their eyes on me, hard like coals.
“He’s right.”
Pink rolled his eyes and muttered something about “must be both of them, then” under his breath. He stormed off, and eventually, the rest of us went our separate ways.
I write this knowing that any day, I could be greeted with the glint of a knife or the metallic taste of gunpowder in my gums.
April 29
I have not had time to write, as two more bodies have been reported. The stench of death has become suffocating. Only three crewmates remain.
The most recent one found dead was Black.
Black, who accompanied me throughout years of brutal training, the clamor and recklessness of hope pulsing through our bloodstreams at the thought of sailing through the galaxies and an endless black sky. While I was mostly a stranger to the other six, Black and I had exchanged notes in our dormitories and smuggled chocolates from a nearby convenience store together.
I know they are going to convict me tomorrow. They have seen us together on several occasions, unaware of our simple friendship. That is more than enough proof for a hungry, desperate Salem.
Tomorrow, death kisses me goodbye.
