Post by Adina Gillespie on Jun 8, 2012 13:07:39 GMT -5
December 23, 1895
This journal was given to me by the maids in the manor. They told me I should write in it daily so I do not fall prey to idle thoughts and wandering hands. I do not quite understand what they mean but I will write nonetheless. This is my eleventh year in the manor since I was taken from my home to work here and my birthday is tomorrow. I dread that day every year and even though he is dead, father still seems to haunt me in my very dreams. He may have hurt me terribly, but I still loved him. He was my father. This is the only picture I have of him:
My father used to be a steel worker until he lost the use of one of his feet in an accident. A furnace beam fell and crushed most of the bones in his right foot. The doctors were unable to operate because the bones were too damaged from the accident. He had to use a cane to get around most often and was unable to work.
He also used it for other things as well… Father would often beat me with his cane. Not only was he a steel worker, but also he devoutly believed in the Bible. I never read it nor did I believe in such a higher power. His treatment of me and how he used such holy words to administer my punishment left me godless and afraid of such things as gods and demons. He quit his job and often stayed at home, where he drank and had a lot of his friends over, forcing me to cook for them and take care of myself most of the time.
Night approaches and I must finish the last of my chores before the lights are extinguished.
This journal was given to me by the maids in the manor. They told me I should write in it daily so I do not fall prey to idle thoughts and wandering hands. I do not quite understand what they mean but I will write nonetheless. This is my eleventh year in the manor since I was taken from my home to work here and my birthday is tomorrow. I dread that day every year and even though he is dead, father still seems to haunt me in my very dreams. He may have hurt me terribly, but I still loved him. He was my father. This is the only picture I have of him:
My father used to be a steel worker until he lost the use of one of his feet in an accident. A furnace beam fell and crushed most of the bones in his right foot. The doctors were unable to operate because the bones were too damaged from the accident. He had to use a cane to get around most often and was unable to work.
He also used it for other things as well… Father would often beat me with his cane. Not only was he a steel worker, but also he devoutly believed in the Bible. I never read it nor did I believe in such a higher power. His treatment of me and how he used such holy words to administer my punishment left me godless and afraid of such things as gods and demons. He quit his job and often stayed at home, where he drank and had a lot of his friends over, forcing me to cook for them and take care of myself most of the time.
Night approaches and I must finish the last of my chores before the lights are extinguished.
