{"id":2363,"date":"2022-03-26T16:59:45","date_gmt":"2022-03-26T23:59:45","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/?p=2363"},"modified":"2022-03-26T16:59:45","modified_gmt":"2022-03-26T23:59:45","slug":"the-diary-of-anne-pettit","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/2022\/03\/26\/the-diary-of-anne-pettit\/","title":{"rendered":"The Diary of Anne Pettit"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\"><em>prompt: Format your story in the style of diary entries.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size\">available at <a href=\"https:\/\/blog.reedsy.com\/short-story\/ugycml\/\">Reedsy<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Tuesday, 2<\/em><em><sup>nd<\/sup><\/em><em> February 1904<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Mother says I should keep a diary to practice my writing. I think she just wants time to herself. The laudanum the doctor gave her for her nerves makes her sleep most of the day away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Thursday, 18<\/em><em><sup>th<\/sup><\/em><em> February 1904<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Mother tried to introduce me to the Grover\u2019s son. I can\u2019t even remember his name. He was most unremarkable. I told her I wasn\u2019t interested in a husband, and she said I\u2019m nearly a spinster. My eighteenth birthday is in a month. I still have time to find someone that piques my interest. As long as I marry before twenty-two, I believe mother will be satisfied.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Sunday, 13<\/em><em><sup>th<\/sup><\/em><em> March 1904<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Happy birthday to me? I wanted to have a garden party, but mother forbade it. She is taking the laudanum more frequently, and her mood has soured at all times. Perhaps when father returns from Europe she will improve.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I spent the day with the maid, Catherine. Mother and father always act like they can\u2019t understand her because of her Irish accent, but I think they just don\u2019t want to have to speak to \u201cthe help.\u201d She gave me a lovely hand-made card and a hair ribbon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Friday, 6<\/em><em><sup>th<\/sup><\/em><em> May 1904<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Father finally returned from Europe, with some affliction that requires frequent visits from the doctor and mercury pills even though he looks hale. It left mother distraught, and they have been bickering every moment they are both awake and in the same room. Father has been sleeping in his study.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Friday, 20<\/em><em><sup>th<\/sup><\/em><em> May 1904<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The bickering turned physical today when mother flung a vase at father\u2019s head. Thanks to mother\u2019s screaming, I know what ails father. It is possible that everyone for miles around now knows he has syphilis.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Catherine was a dear. She offered to take me to a party in the city. She said that a young woman shouldn\u2019t have to hear her parents carry on so. I agreed. I\u2019m dressed and ready to go, writing this while I wait for Catherine to finish her chores. I don\u2019t think I could find my way alone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Friday, 30<\/em><em><sup>th<\/sup><\/em><em> June 1904<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I\u2019ve been going to the parties in Hell\u2019s Kitchen every Friday and can make my way there and back on my own. They are rather informal affairs, but men and women mingle and drink gin or whiskey. At some point in the evening, the music starts. Nearly everyone can sing or play an instrument, and the music is lively.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I\u2019ve met someone that piques my interest, but there is a problem. It isn\u2019t a man who has caught my eye, but rather a woman about my age, Aine. Her accent isn\u2019t as thick as Catherine\u2019s, but her voice is melodic. Every time I close my eyes, I see hers; green, haunting, something sad behind them, peering into my very soul.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Wednesday, 3<\/em><em><sup>rd<\/sup><\/em><em> August 1904<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Mother left today to stay with her sister and brother-in-law in Philadelphia. Father mopes about the house and does nothing until he flies into a rage. I\u2019ve noticed his hands trembling at times, and his moods are unpredictable and severe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Aine has offered to put me up in the city and I have packed. I will leave this evening when the carriage arrives for me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Over the past few weeks, mother had ignored me, my father, Catherine, everything except her laudanum. The house was quiet until last week when father propositioned Catherine and hit her when she rejected him. She left for good and hasn\u2019t been replaced, and mother and father let the house fall to disarray.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>With mother\u2019s departure, the groundskeeper left. Father will be left alone in the house with nothing but his own moods for company.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Thursday, 4<\/em><em><sup>th<\/sup><\/em><em> August 1904<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Aine has shared a secret with me. It\u2019s unbelievable, but she has shown me enough proof to verify it. I\u2019m certain I should fear her, but I can\u2019t help but love her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I have some time to make a decision whether I will be around for only a little while or join her permanently. Mother would, no doubt, be apoplectic about it, unless she was still in her laudanum. Father would probably explode in rage at the thought.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Still, she has required that if I wish to join her, I say goodbye to my family before we go.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Sunday, 4<\/em><em><sup>th<\/sup><\/em><em> September, 1904<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I talked to father yesterday. I told him I would be leaving with Aine for good. I felt it best I be honest with him, as far as I could without sharing her secret. When I told him I was in love with her, he seemed resigned. He was listless and his tremors have grown worse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Talking with mother today was both easier and harder than I thought it would be. When I showed up to her house, my aunt grabbed me in a tight hug and wept. She took me to the cemetery, to mother\u2019s fresh grave.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Although it was difficult to find out she was dead, it was the easiest conversation I\u2019d had with her in years, and the closest I\u2019d ever come to feeling like she listened. I told her everything, including Aine\u2019s secret.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I spent the night at my aunt\u2019s house, where she told me what had happened. Mother had taken her laudanum on Monday morning and lay down for a nap, from which she never rose.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Friday, 9<\/em><em><sup>th<\/sup><\/em><em> September 1904<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>It\u2019s a new moon tonight. The night is pitch dark and the humidity is stifling. Tonight I join Aine. I\u2019m frightened but more excited.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Sunday, 10<\/em><em><sup>th<\/sup><\/em><em> September 1905<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>After the revelation of the first night, I forgot about this diary entirely. I only came across it today as we are packing to travel to Spain. How would I describe that first night? It was more than I could\u2019ve imagined. That darkest of nights became as midday. The stars shone more brightly than any lamp, and I saw colors I had never seen before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I had feared it would hurt, but the pain was brief, and mixed with desire and pleasure. The love I already felt for Aine grew only deeper, subsuming all that I was in a longing for her, and a hunger for blood. I don\u2019t know when I will next write in this diary, but I will pack it with our things.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Tuesday, 1<\/em><em><sup>st<\/sup><\/em><em> August 1916<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>It seems we will be moving again. Aine says we can\u2019t spend too long in one area without being found out. I\u2019ll miss the countryside around Madrid; it\u2019s positively breathtaking by moonlight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>We were planning on going somewhere else in Europe, but they say there\u2019s a war going on. A few of the farmers\u2019 sons have left to join the French Foreign Legion to help out, while Spain remains neutral. The only thing we know about it is what we hear over a late dinner. Yes, we still eat and drink normal food. We only need blood a few times a month.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Tuesday, 5<\/em><em><sup>th<\/sup><\/em><em> September 1939<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I had forgotten all about this diary until I came across it unexpectedly this evening while packing up essentials. I\u2019ve been trying for weeks now to convince Aine that we need to leave Warsaw. She doesn\u2019t care about what she calls \u201cthe affairs of men,\u201d but I\u2019ve been watching politics closely for over a decade, and I saw this coming.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I knew the funny little man in Germany would be trouble, and I was right. We\u2019re preparing to leave for Danzig, where one of Aine\u2019s contacts will meet us with a seaplane. We\u2019ve never flown, so we\u2019re both looking forward to it. In the meantime, however, we must make our way north through the occupying forces.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The one good thing that came from all this is that hunting is easy. No need to hide our kills or limit ourselves to those who won\u2019t be missed. There are thousands of invaders to choose from. We just need to wait for one of them to get separated from their unit, which seems to happen all the time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Monday, 6<\/em><em><sup>th<\/sup><\/em><em> August 1945<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>We\u2019ve been staying in Boston for last two years while the war raged on. Today\u2019s paper had the most horrific thing I\u2019ve ever heard. A bomb that erased an entire city. I don\u2019t really have much to say about it, except that even Aine was shocked to tears.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Thursday, 9<\/em><em><sup>th<\/sup><\/em><em> August 1945<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>They\u2019ve done it again. The depravity of men has reached new lows. These atom bombs will be the death of the planet. Never again will I feel guilt at killing when I need to feed. Humanity is cursed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Thursday, 13<\/em><em><sup>th<\/sup><\/em><em> March 1986<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I\u2019ve not written anything in this diary since the bombing of Nagasaki. Today would be my 100<sup>th<\/sup> birthday and, I guess, I was feeling a bit nostalgic. The weather in Hokkaido is beautiful, and the plum blossoms are stunning in the light of the new moon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Aine and I are drifting apart. We often spend weeks apart, only to come together again and pick up as if we hadn\u2019t. I\u2019m not certain when it began, but I would guess about the time we left Boston for Lima, in 1951. Time has a different meaning now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Another development: Aine has gotten careless on some of her feeds, and I\u2019ve had to clean up after her. I\u2019m not sure whether it\u2019s carelessness or a depression of some sort, and she won\u2019t talk to me about it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Thursday, 9<\/em><em><sup>th<\/sup><\/em><em> September 2004<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>It is my hundredth anniversary with Aine, as one of her kind. I finally met her maker, Appius. He\u2019s soft-spoken and prefers Latin to any of the other languages we all speak. His eyes, though, frighten me by the deadness of them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He examined me, tasted my blood, and told Aine \u201cthis one is fit to leave the nest, and will not have to be put down.\u201d Her relief was obvious, but I was unsure whether that relief was that he wasn\u2019t going to kill me, or that she had tacit permission to leave me to my own devices.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Wednesday, 21<\/em><em><sup>st<\/sup><\/em><em> May 2008<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Aine and I parted ways. She\u2019s gone to Istanbul and I\u2019m going to Sydney. We still love each other or, at least, I still love her, but we\u2019re not in the same place we were over a hundred years ago. I\u2019m definitely not the same person I was then.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Perhaps someday, I\u2019ll be as disconnected from the world as she and Appius, but there is still so much to experience. We made a promise to meet every decade. We\u2019ll be meeting in Madrid in 2018.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Friday, 25<\/em><em><sup>th<\/sup><\/em><em> March 2022<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>We didn\u2019t meet in 2018, or any year since. Appius and I found each other in Mexico City last night. I\u2019ve learned to sense others of our kind, and I knew he was somewhere around Texcoco. I sat in Parque Hundido and waited on him to show. He hasn\u2019t heard from Aine either. He fears she may have walked into the sun, but I doubt it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I convinced him to continue his search, and I will do the same. I\u2019m worried about her\u2026worried that she has been discovered. At the same time, there is a part of me that hopes that if she is gone, that in her going she found, even if only for a brief moment, the happiness that has so long eluded her.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>prompt: Format your story in the style of diary entries. available at Reedsy Tuesday, 2nd February 1904 Mother says I should keep a diary to practice my writing. I think she just wants time to &hellip;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[208],"tags":[210,209,220],"class_list":["post-2363","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-trunk-stories","tag-fiction","tag-short-story","tag-urban-fantasy"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pxT7i-C7","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2363","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2363"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2363\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2364,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2363\/revisions\/2364"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2363"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2363"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2363"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}