View Full Version : Original Fiction: Dearest Journal/A diary of a woman from the 13 colonies

10-29-2006, 01:57 AM
(Okay, these kind of suck...so bear with me here...I just want to show how somw feelings might have been in 1700s when the 13 colonies were around.)

April 15, 1718

Dearest Journal,

Oh my dear journal, you have done such a good job in aiding me in this wary life I have chosen to live in. I know you must grow weary yourself, but I will tell you until I run out of pages within your binds.

I do bear good news, well my stomach does actually, my stomach has finally begun to swell. Enough for me to have the need to wobble like a beetle. The small life that lingers with its binds has begun to kick as well. “Goods signs for a strong boy,” my father had said, my husband, Jordan nodding his head in agreement. I find Jordan starring at it everyday, occasionally placing a cautious had upon it. It is so sweet; I find my heart ready to melt away when he does so. Since this is our first baby he wishes for a boy, though I wish for a small little girl. Our wishes may differ, but I know that we will both be loving parents as we could possibly be.

Work has been even wearier lately, for my ankles begin to swell and I have had trouble putting on shoes and walking all together. Jordan says he’ll help me as much as he possibly can, but I told him that I shall be fine in my weary state and that he should tend to his chores. However, he insisted that I at least stay off my feet as long as I possible can, I will at least give him that. I only have been sewing, cooking, and cleaning lately. Benita, my elder sister, has been coming over and helping. She is such a joy to be around; I would not choose anyone over her to be my sister. Oh my, Jordan has cut his hand open; I must tend to him immediately.

Your dearest friend,

Ana Fechlin

April 20, 1718

Beloved Journal,

I fear that Jordan’s hand has worsened the past couple of days, for he grows ill with a fever and his hand has begun to swell. I called for the town’s doctor, but his wife said he had left for New York and wouldn’t return for several days, when she had said this, my eyes swelled with tears. Jordan had assured me that he was fine and he tried to rid my tears with his good hand. It only made me shed tears more. I love him so much and I do not know what I would do with myself if he worsens, or even worse- No. I mustn’t resort to those thoughts. I had promised God that I would be strong, if not for me, then for Jordan. I must shed all those terrible thoughts away and into the fireplace.

Our food has retreated to small amounts, for Jordan, nor I, can even go anywhere to receive what we need. I have but beans, corn, apples, and some bread left. Jordan wishes for me to eat all I can for I am feeding too, but I nearly waved his words away and gave him half of what I had to make. Benita will be coming tomorrow; therefore I can ask her if she would stalk us up on supplies. I would do anything for it. Though I know she say it’s no problem and ask for nothing, but I am determined to pay her back for everything she has done for me, no…us. Speaking of, I am sitting within Jordan’s lap right now. He really wished for me to do so, I couldn’t decline. He keeps asking what I am writing, but I say it’s nothing. I should probably close it up before Jordan reads over my shoulder; actually, I think he already has, very well.


Ana Fechlin

May23, 1718

Cherished Journal,

I am so sorry, my journal, for neglecting you for so long, but I have been as busy as a bee and have hand no time to write a decent passage. I beg for you forgiveness, my dear journal.

Today was indeed a beyond weary Sabbath. Everyone insisted they touched my stomach. Of course I smiled and said it was all right, but they al gave me the jitters. The only one who did not give me the jitters, of course, is Jordan. But that is a different story. Jordan and I stood in the back, so we didn’t have to part onto different sides of the room, and so we could make an easy retreat at the end. I held his good hand as I stood to the right of him. Every time my stomach began to cramp, during Sabbath, which was quite often lately. I clutched his hand tightly as I possibly could. (He kept looking at me oddly, as if he was…frightened? It sure did look like it. It almost freighted me, that look of his. Maybe his hand hurt, or something.) I am not quite sure. What Sabbath was about, I tried my hardest to listen, but my stomach held its pain strong. I finally pulled Jordan as silently as I possibly could out of the church. And journal, I am here to tell you, that just an hour ago, I had a little boy. He had his father’s eyes, my nose, and his grandmother’s ears. His hair was straight and brown, who he inherited from me, poor boy. I wish you could see Jordan. He has been in a good mood all day, holding his son close, and kissing my forehead as I lay here on the bed, weary as ever. And I believe I am begin to fall asleep writing within you…and Jordan is standing right in front of me telling me to put you down and get some rest. I think I will.


Ana Fechlin

May 25, 1718

Treasured Journal,

I am up and moving again today, of course Jordan insists on me staying in bed. I simply smiled and kissed him on the cheek as I walked wobbly away from my bed to the kitchen. Jordan had slipped his hand around my waist for balance.

Today, I must tell you journal, I saw three baby birds trying their hardest to fly away form their nest, as if they were in dire need to leave. I had almost reached up and helped but then Jordan had assured me that they would fly on their own soon. I trusted his wise wisdom and fled back to Josh, our baby.

About noon today, it had rained, for a very long time actually. Jordan was still out trying to gather the cattle in. I was swaying back and forth by the time he cam in, his hair clung to his face. I was worried about him, and hadn’t realized I had taken a sigh until Jordan looked at me funny; I just blushed and took the baby up stairs to his bed. When I had returned I realized that Jordan had you open, and was reading you! I had begun to panic. All my secrets I had kept for years, all those little things I had to say, and he was reading them! I thought I was going to die. Until when I had come down, slowly, cautiously, and I watched his face, he had- he had been smiling. My cheeks had grown even redder, I just know it. I had written so much about him. That is when I kindly help my hand out for you. He had shaken his head and had at down pulling me into his lap as he read you. When finished, that was when I had started writing this passage journal; he had rested his chin on my shoulder and watched every word I wrote. I am afraid journal, that you are not the only one with my secrets now.


Ana Fechlin

May 34, 1718

Precious Journal,

It rained again today, my journal. I could have almost wept the poor animals and plants. Jordan could see my depression and assured me they would al be fine. I had hugged him and hoped so. He says I think for others too much, that I should just do something for myself. But that is almost impossible for I have so many chores, and I have you, dear journal. I write in you for myself and generations who follow. That is all I need, that, and Jordan. You both make my life whole, and I thank you greatly.

Josh has just been gathering his strength, and can now hold his head up. I am so proud of him; he’ll be like his father in no time. Benita came over today; she took care of Josh while Jordan and I left for town. We were beginning to lack some necessities, such as milk, for ours cows are having a hard time producing the amount we need these days. I saw a few slaves today; I fear for them, Jordan has a soft spot for them as well, though he won’t admit it. He says that they are human just as we are, and yet our society treats them as if they were animals. He’s such a great guy. I kissed him on the cheek and he asked mw what that was for and I just smiled and shrugged my shoulders. Oh dear, Josh is crying. I must tend to him.

Heartily yours,

Ana Fechlin