Writing Exercise 13: 20 yr old college student, mansion. Found a diary from 1864.
Some people might not have opened…
the aged journal but my curiosity got the better of me. I’d never thought I’d find anything interesting cleaning this monster of a mansion. The Atlanta humidity was getting to me and I could feel the rage of having to work over summer break boil my blood. It wasn’t fair, while my roommates were off gallivanting all over the country, I had to work to make sure I could cover tuition, rent, food and whatever awful expenses came up next.
I was lucky though, I knew some students working as waitresses and cooks trying to get by. I got to make my own schedule and I enjoyed the quietness of the old plantation house. I had been hired to get the house ready to be put on the market, I had until August 15th which was halfway here. I’d worked hard those first weeks moving furniture into their rightful place room by room by room. And then the dusting, Lord the dusting. These next few weeks were going to be consumed with washing and waxing the lovely wood floors. I hated manual labor but when this opportunity presented itself I would have been foolish not to take it. It paid good money, I’d be set until midterms.
So today I had been washing the floors, by hand mind you, and I noticed a floorboard didn’t match the rest. I was in the sitting room, in the corner for the large fireplace. The sun was shining in and I was enjoying the birds singing outside. I scrubbed with my brush and felt the board creak a little under the force. A corner of the board was peaking up. I tried to push it back down but it was stuck at a weird angle. So I pulled it upwards and off it came. Below it were old black and white photos of a poorly dressed stable hand. Beneath the pictures was the journal. I was going to put it right back but when I set it down to wipe my hands, the cover flipped open.
June 14, 1864
I’ve lost him…
