Baby Steps

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 16^th, 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 17^th, 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 31^st, 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 1^st, 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 2^nd, 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 3^rd, 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 4^th, 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.