Okay! So, I think for one of my first pieces of literature that I've written, I'll chose a short story that I wrote about the secret life of Annabelle Columbus. I hope you enjoy, and I would more than appreciate some feedback!
The
diary of Annabelle L. Columbus: 1491-1503
September 16th, 1491:
Today,
as I sat by the small window in the wall of my prison where my very generous
guard brings me just enough food to survive, I watched as a small journal
dropped through the little slot, along with some bread. Just after they had hit
the floor, a bottle of ink and a few quills was dropped down with it. Sometimes
I think this guard has a soft spot for me because he might have a child my age
or younger trapped somewhere as well. But all I can really do is be grateful
for his gifts.
It is
a beautifully made leather journal. It’s
about 50 pages long, (not that I’ll ever be able to use all of the pages) and
the cover is soft and smooth, as if someone had purposely worn it out to be more
comfortable-looking. There’s even a ribbon attached to the spine that could be
used as a page-saver. The purpose that my guard had had when he gave me this
journal was very obvious: he wanted me to write down the things that have
happened to me in this cell, so when I figure out a way to escape, people will
know what I’ve endured.
If I
make the truth known, maybe then I will be respected for my hardships, and my
father, along with any other people responsible for my imprisonment, will be
punished. But for now, the only thing I can do is to write down the things that
have happened in this cell.
My
name is Annabelle Lauren Columbus. You’ve never heard about an Annabelle
Columbus? I’m not surprised. My father has certainly gone the extra mile to
ensure that my existence has been kept a secret, and I know exactly why. Let me
tell you my story:
When my
father was a young man, he fell in love with a peasant woman. Although
beautiful and intelligent, she was not the match his parents wanted. So, the
woman he had given his heart to was kept a secret for many months. But, like
all secrets, it crept out from hiding, and his parents forbade him to see her.
When
she found out she was pregnant with me, my mother tried to convince him to run
away with her, but he refused. So she fled into the woods to a small cabin left
to her by her own father. When she gave birth to me, she decided that she could
raise me on her own out in the woods. At the age of thirteen, she decided I
should know the truth.
By
then, she had already taught me how to read and write by making me watch her
write and copy her, and by reading literature aloud. All the books that she
would read to me would all suspiciously have the main character trapped
somewhere and learning how to escape. I didn’t know it, but by 10, I could have
been the world’s youngest escape artist.
When I
turned 15, the people of the nearby town discovered our secret, from accounts
of what my father had told them. Somehow, he had found us, and had spread evil
rumors about us. The townspeople sent guards to capture me. In the struggle, my
mother was killed.
Then they took me to my prison. It’s a
dim room with the only sources of light being the little dinner –plate-sized
holes in the walls at about eye level. That’s the only way I am able to read
and write. The prison has about the same amount of floor space as a cabin. My
guard, strangely, still brings me books about characters escaping from
different kinds of places, as though he wants me to escape. But I’m not sure that I can do it by just
reading the accounts.
***
September 17th, 1491:
Today
I am hearing strange noises coming from an unlit corner of my cell. The sounds
are so terrible, that I am too frightened to go over to the corner to
investigate. When I think about it too much, I start hearing more noises. Although
I realize that my mind is playing tricks on me, I still fall for it. I try to
constantly keep my mind busy so I don’t think any more about it.
After
reflecting, I realize the sounds are probably coming from a poor animal that
fell through one of the light windows and can’t get back out again. It’s just
like me: it knows what it was doing and what it should be doing when it wasn’t
trapped in this prison, but it doesn’t know how to get back out.
When I
think of the freedom that I used to have, it makes me want to burst through the
concrete walls that have kept me prisoner for so long. But I know that I
shouldn’t try to. I remember the first day that the guards dropped me in this
dirty room, I tried to knock down the wall with nothing but my body. It hurt so
bad that I just sat huddled against the wall until I fell asleep. That next
morning, I woke up with no pain, and a cloth sling wrapped around my neck and
my injured arm. Now that it comes to mind, I realize that my ‘doctor’ was
probably the same person that brings me my food and my books.
All I know about my location is that I’m no
longer in the forest. The only exit that I could possibly manage to squeeze
through, would be the one in which the guard brings me my food and books. I am
almost positive that if I turn my head to the side, I would be just slender
enough to fit through the small opening.
I
think that tomorrow, when my generous guard brings me my daily needs, I will
throw the tray behind me while it is still partly in his hand to distract him.
Then, while he’s stunned, I’ll shove myself through the opening and run past
him. I’m not completely sure how much this guard favors me, or even if the same
one will come that day, but I think that he might let me escape, or at least
give me a few minutes head start.
***
September 19, 1491:
Today,
when my guard brought me my meal, I went through with my plan of getting brief
freedom. To fulfill the intentions of this journal, I will tell you each thing
that I did from the time right before my escape, up to this minute:
First, I sat right under the slightly narrow
food opening until I started to hear footsteps just outside. I was so nervous
with the thought of what I was about to do that I was trembling. That
frightened me even more because I was afraid that I wouldn’t be careful enough
to go through with my plan. Before these negative thoughts could stop, my guard
slowly opened the slot in the window.
My
mind was racing so fast that everything seemed to be moving more slowly than I.
I could remember every half of a second from that point. I stood straight up and grabbed the food tray
while the guard still had a grip on it. I pulled it from his hands and threw
myself through the opening in the wall.
I landed hard on my knees, but jumped quickly to my feet.
I
turned around to face the guard, who was staring at me with wide eyes. He was
clearly paralyzed with shock. Unfortunately, so was I. We stood several moments
watching each other. Then, since I could think of nothing else to do, I
whispered a barely audible “sorry,” then ran as fast as my legs would carry me
in the other direction.
I was
so distracted by my guard that I didn’t take in my surroundings until I had
already been running for about 10 seconds. I remember seeing the walls on the
side of me as a light gold color. Soon, I spotted a wooden door to my right,
and skidded on my heels to a halt.
I
turned around to look behind me and I saw my guard standing in the same
position I left him in, but with his arm stretched out towards me. I was grateful
that he hadn’t chased me, but I knew
that he could change his mind in a split second. I stared at him for another moment, then
whispered the word: ”please,” .The guard dropped his arm, and nodded. I turned
my attention back to the door to keep from crying with tears of gratefulness.
I knew
that the escaping skills that I had learned from my literature were essential
to put in action for my mission to be a success, and I wasn’t about to forget
them. I stood right outside the door, and tried to listen for sounds other than
my heart beating. When I had confirmed my suspicion that no one was inside the
room, I opened the door, and threw myself in.
I shut
the door behind me as I looked around the room to confirm my suspicions. I was
right: no one was here. There were 2 large book shelves, covering 2 of the four
walls from floor to ceiling. On the bookshelves were not just books (fortunately
for me), but also a tray of food where someone had been eating while sitting
down in one of the pale pink chairs that sat on the ugly red rug on the floor.
This place was obviously the library.
Also
occupying the bookshelves’ space was a jug of water and a cup (most likely
where that same someone who was eating a snack while enjoying a good book also
got parched and decided to have a drink), a journal between some of the books,
3 bottles of ink, and a quill. On the small table between the two ugly chairs
there was a bag, some matches, and 3 candles. It was almost as if this room was
just begging to be broken into.
I
raced around the room as fast as my legs would take me, but my physical speed
was as slow as a snail compared to the speed of my thoughts. I sprang to the
small table, snatching up the large bag that rested on it, and shoved the 3
candles and the matches inside of it before I could blink twice. I sped over to
the shelf and knocked a few of the books off into the bag. Then I pushed the
journal, the bottles of ink, and the quills with my left arm into the bag.
I
slung the shoulder strap over my arm, and grabbed the tray of food, balancing
the water jug and the cup on it as well. I burst through the door again and
sped out into the hallway. Once I was half way back to the food slot that led
into my cell, I realized that my guard had left. I didn’t know whether to be
frightened or grateful by that news. So I dashed twice as fast to the opening.
Once I
reached the small entrance, I slid the food tray with the jug and the cup on it
through the slot with precision. Then I stuffed the large bag through the slot,
and it landed on the food tray with a CLASH.
I scrambled head first through the
narrow entrance, and landed on the food tray and the large bag. Thankfully the
bag was much softer than the floor, and I managed to escape the small adventure
with only a few minor bruises. I turned my bag upside down and dumped out all
of its contents. Out spilled the candles, the ink, the quills, the journal, and
the matches. I quickly organized them into groups.
I put
the matches and candles into one group, I put the journal, the quills and the
ink bottles, and the books all in one group, and I put the food tray, the water
jug, and the cup all in one group. I pushed all of the little groups into the
farthest corner of my cell so no one could see it. Then I lit one of the
matches and lit all 3 of my new candles. Then I pulled out my old journal, my
old quill, and my old bottle of ink and started to write about my small
triumph.
And
that brings me to this point now. I just now packed away the food back into my
new bag, so that I can save up a stash for when I escape for good. Luckily, the
food that was laying on the bookshelf was all very long lasting. There were 4
biscuits, and a handful of crackers. Only half of the jug of water still
remains, because I was so thirsty that I drank from it. I’m sure that I’ll find
some more water when I exit to get some supplies the next time…You see, I had
read that all successful escapes involved collecting supplies first, and tools
to help once out. That is what I had just done.
The
next time… I really hadn’t thought about that until now. I wonder when I will
get out of my cell next. Certainly not this week, my poor nice guard has been
traumatized enough. I nearly broke his
arm when I grabbed the tray while it was still in his hand. I will most likely
escape again in exactly 2 weeks. In fact, I’m planning on it.
***
September 31st, 1491:
Today,
when my guard dumped my food into the cell, there was a note under my water
cup. After reading it through carefully in the dim light of my cell, I realized
that it was from my guard. This is what it said:
‘Dear
Annabelle,
A few days ago, as I’m sure you remember, you
escaped your imprisonment. I expected this would happen sooner or later, since
you have been given books that elaborate on how to escape places since you were
old enough to read, by your mother and I. However, I did not expect you to come
back.
Just
after you took off into the library door, I headed toward the head guard of the
prison. I wasn’t about to report your escape, I was simply going to report your
absence. But just before I got there, when I was turning into a hallway, I
caught a glance of you shoving items into the food door of your cell, and then
you climbing into it as well!
I
immediately set off towards the kitchen to fill a bag full of treats and
beverages. After collecting these items and a few questions from the head of
the kitchen, I stashed the goods all around the prison.
Of course
I hid the majority of the food in the library, because you already know where it
is located. I have stored the food behind one of the chairs, and a flask of
water under the other. I have stashed away some cakes behind the curtain of the
secretary’s office, if you ever get a chance to locate it.
Most
of all, I want you to know that I support your efforts of escaping. Although
you know that I bring books and decent food and drink rather than just garbage
to eat every day (I presume), you do not know the specific reason behind it.
I’m
not sure if your mother told you that she had any siblings or relations
whenever you were still living with her, but she does have an older brother.
Who is this strange man? Why, it’s me, your personal guard. Although my job
description does not say so, I am not so much your guard to keep you from
escaping, as a guard that keeps you from harm.
The
minute I heard about your mother’s death, I sought a position as a prison guard
at where I heard rumors of your detainment. When I got the job, I used my
authority to rummage through the prison records to see if I could find your
name. When I did, I looked up your cell number, and offered to man your cell
permanently. Although my employer did ask questions, I just answered him that I
liked to “keep my watch grounds consistent”. Apparently that was all the explanation
that he needed.
From
then on, I brought you things that I thought you might need in order to escape.
I brought you strategy books, decent food, beverages that will actually stay
down. But until now, I was unsure on your ability to escape. Now that I know
you can, I am asking you exactly what supplies that you think will be useful to
your escape.
It
will definitely look suspicious if I go around carrying arm loads of tools and shove them into your cell, so I will
only be able to bring you one small item a day.
Please
use your quill and ink to respond to this message.
Sincerely,
Your
Uncle”
After
reading this letter, three thoughts careened through my head:
1. A
food door! So that’s what it’s called!
2. My
uncle? Could that be the reason why he was so kind to me? Even enough to not
stop me when I escaped my cell?
3. What
if this is a trick to try to get me to reveal my plans of escape so that he and
the other guards know where to be and how to stop me from escaping again?
I got out my spare
journal and tore out a page. With my quill and ink I wrote:
‘Dear
“uncle”,
How can I be sure that you’re really my uncle, and
not just trying to get me to reveal my plans for escape so you can capture me
for good the next time I try to escape?’
Then I
folded up the paper, and set it next to the food door, so I can shove it
through the slot tomorrow when my ‘uncle’ brings me my food.
October 1st, 1491:
Today,
when the small door opened, there was a considerable pause. I understood it to
be the time my ‘uncle’ was giving me to hand over my response to his letter. I quickly
pushed through the folded paper. Before
it could hit the floor, I heard it being caught by a quick reflexive hand. Then
my food slid through the slot. Along with my food, there was another book. I
sighed; I already have so many books.
I
suppose I won’t write again until I receive a responding letter from my guard.
***
October 2nd, 1491:
I finally
got a responding letter from my uncle today! There is no doubt that this man
speaks the truth! Here’s the note:
‘Dearest
Annabelle,
I understand that you have your doubts about my
claims. That’s perfectly logical. But I have proof that I am in fact your
uncle. I know things that only your mother’s brother would know. I know that
her favorite color is purple. I know that she picked out your name when she was
just about your age; she used to tell me that if she ever had a daughter, that
her name would be Annabelle because she thought that it was the most beautiful
name. I know that her favorite animal is a goat ( to this day I don’t know why).
If you still don’t believe me, there is a surprise
in your oatmeal. I hope that you haven’t
already eaten it. Dig in (literally)!’
After finishing the note, I pawed through the
oatmeal and found a skeleton key to the prison! I quickly tore out a piece of
paper and wrote:
‘Dear
uncle,
I am going back to the cabin where I was raised. If
you wish, you may join me! Thank you ever so much for the keys!’
I was
folding it and setting it next to the door, when I realized that there was
another paper under my uncle’s letter. When I picked it up, I realized that I
was a layout of the prison! Unfortunately, my cell is located at the very back
of the prison. It will take me at least 10 minutes to escape this dungeon!
Fortunately,
a path was marked on the map that showed the quickest route from my cell to the
exit. Tomorrow, I will escape for good. I won’t eat my lunch, but instead pack
it for the journey to my cabin in the woods.
***
October 3rd, 1491:
I have
already given my brief letter to the guard, and in just a few minutes, I will
crawl out through the food door and never come back.
Right
now, I am packing all of the belongings that I have kept in my cell. My bag
that I had gotten from the library is very full, since my uncle brought all of
the food he had hidden around the prison back to my cell since I won’t be
staying long enough to find it all.
All of
my preparations are made. I will write what happened tomorrow, because when I
finally get to my log cabin, I just want to sit out on the porch in freedom.
***
October 4th, 1491:
I did
it! I actually escaped the prison! So far today, I have done nothing but lie
around my new home and eat. I suppose now I will tell you what happened
yesterday after I finished packing up my things:
After
I shoved my full bag out of the food door and stuffed the skeleton key and the map in my pocket, I
wiggled my way out of my cell. Then, I stood frozen, listening for any sound
that suggested I wasn’t alone in the hallway. When I was sure that I was alone,
I pulled out my new map, and turned left down the hallway like it suggested.
After
running for a few seconds and passing many, many doors that had food slots in
them, I turned right into a different hallway, following the highlighted path
on my map. Then I came to a door.
I
tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. Then I remembered the key that was in
my pocket, and I pulled it out. I shoved it into the doorknob and turned it
until I heard a click. By this time,
my heart was beating so loud that I wouldn’t hear any one chasing after me even
if I stopped to listen. I ran for about 10 seconds down the hallway that the
locked door had led to, and then turned to the left.
Then I
stopped dead in my tracks, and stared forward. Before me, I saw the exit of the
prison. I stood there petrified for several long moments, then burst into a run
that made my feet look like a blur when I looked down at them. I slammed into
the door, not being able to slow down in time, and yanked the key back out of
my pocket again. I jammed it into the
keyhole, turned it to the right as fast as I could. I yanked the key
back out of the door, and dropped it into my pocket.
Opening the door, I stood in the entryway for
a moment that felt like a life time. Then, I burst into a run toward the nearest forest.
Once I
was completely surrounded by trees, I pulled out my map again, hoping that a
path would be on it, leading to my cabin. When the sunlight hit it, I could see
that something was printed on the back. I flipped it over and saw a drawing of
a forest, and a distinct path leading from the entrance, right into the heart,
where it came to a square shaped brown object.
I ran
at full speed through the forest, occasionally checking my map to make sure I
was headed in the right direction. The forest blurred by me, and all I could
think about was the old cabin that I grew up in.
Before
I knew it, in the distance I could see an old worn down log cabin. My heart
lurched, and my legs carried me forward faster than I thought possible. Then, I
was running up the familiar wooden steps, and into the front door of my new
home. I dropped to my knees and cried with joy.
Later
that night, my uncle came to the cabin to visit me. He told me that he wishes
he could live here with me, but he must stand guard over my cell as if I was
still a prisoner there. It was a very clever plan, in fact, he even said he
would bring me all the meals that he was told to bring me while I was in my
cell, and would take them to my cabin when his work day had ended. He even
agreed to bring a little extra and some cakes, biscuits, and water jugs for me.
After
he got settled in my cabin for a few minutes, he explained to me that he knew
about this cabin because he and my mother used to play in it like it was their
own house. He didn’t realize that it was the place I grew up in!
After
a few goodbyes, and many, many thank you’s from me, my uncle left my cabin.
Ever
since then, I’ve been sitting on my porch, enjoying my freedom.
Well,
I have finally fulfilled the purpose of this old journal. After all it’s been
through; I don’t think I’ll use it again. Tomorrow I’ll give it to my uncle to
keep safe until all of this mess blows over, if anyone’s noticed at all.
Goodbye.
