From the Journal of Katherine Fleming-Drake: Day Five and Beyond ...
Day Five: I awoke praying that the sunset would bring nothing but darkness. The Lord has blessed me. The day has gone into night and I am left alone. I am so exhausted from last night that I can hardly keep my eyes open. I beg to be forgiven that I write hardly a useful word. When I review this later, I hope that I can be solicitous to myself and not critical of my own brevity. My prayers to you Ezekiel that the Lord leads you safe to me. I can feel your heart calling to mine.
Day Six: No sacrifices for me again. Relief is too puny a word to describe my feelings. Today I shall venture to exercise and see what expressions of horror I can engender on my caretakers. The one who I do believe who is called Samira (and not Cleopatra as I had named her) will be the most upset. She seems the eldest and the most proper and it is very clear that her opinion of what I am to do with my person is something she does not share. She and I had quite the argument although only with gestures. Her words and my words did not mesh into communication, but I do believe if they put any more oil in myhair, I shall go mad. It is a horrid feeling and makes it entirely too heavy. I have prevailed, if only for today, by just repeatedly getting back into the bath each time she tried to oil my locks into submission. Neecy would have informed her that I am quite stubborn when I want to be and I must find a way to apologize to her. She seems truly nice and I shouldn't take out my ire on the poor girl. My love toyou, my love! I know that you are just a day away!
Day Seven: I have resolved to be of a good heart and make the best of this situation. I amend eavoring to find out the names of the other lovely girls. . .I do believe that one is named Zahra and the other is Kasmut. One of the little monkeys has decided that I am not going to eat him and has taken food from my hand. I do believe that we are on the path to becoming friends. Maybe I should not think of this place as a prison but instead as a chance to learn about new and interesting cultures. Ah yes, maybe I can teach them to play lookabout or hunt the slipper, even though slippers do seem to be scarce around here. Ezekiel, my love, I look forward to being in your arms again, hopefully sooner rather than later!
Day Eight: I hate to be of such an ill mood, but I would have thought that my intrepid little group would have found me bynow. It is late in the night of day eight; were Neecy with them, I am certain that I already would be rescued and have a proper cup of tea. Neecy is sovery organized and logical and my dearest Ezekiel, although brave and strong, sometimes has entirely too much faith in me and the Lord. Today, I don’t care a whit about faith or strength of person or prayers or miracles. I am in a pout and not going to be brought out of it. I am not in the mood to be strong or full of faith. I want to go home. Surely someone has told my father that I amgone? Where is the British army? If Josephine and Bertie have made off to the British Embassy like in France and left me here, I shall be quite livid. Surely Flora has the good sense to be looking for me? Are not the spirits telling her anything? Oh I am quite annoyed.
Is it unfair for me to be critical? Maybe so. But nonetheless, I am. I want a coddled egg for breakfast for a change, a lovely rasher, and a bit of toast. I want a roasted chicken for dinner and a biscuit or two with a cup of hot tea. I want to be comfortable enough to have a cup of hot tea; this thrice-cursed place is hotter than the Devil’s own Hell. I despise not understanding anything that is said to me, I am tired of being brave, I am exhausted from dreading each sunset and the chance that four more lives will be bled out for me. I want my husband, my dragon, and my swords. I want my father, my Neecy and my Prissy. I am certain that Prissy is with child again; I miss the tiny wondrous baby they already have and will never see all his future siblings for I shall be here forever. Yes forever. And forever is a very long time to be naked with repulsive, sticky hair and eat bad food. Ezekiel, my darling. . .really, love, where are you?
Day Nine: The venomous three witches seem to be excited again this morning and I have been scrubbed, oiled, painted, and wrapped with all the duecare that now makes my heart quail. If they cannot tell how angry and unhappy I am, then bless their savage, little non-English hearts for their innocence. They practically have carried me from bed to bath, bath to chair; I am not helping them in the least. I’m not eating anything in dread that the priest will give me the knife and tell me to do the dirty deeds on another set of lovelies this evening and I would prefer not to regurgitate the remains of another distinctly unsatisfactory breakfast or lunch. The harpies have fussed at me and I say nothing. Ezekiel, my dearest heart, we will have to discuss this tardiness of yours if you ever get here.
I shall try to write tonight, journal. But I shan't promise. If I am so lucky as to get rescued, then the reunion should keep me quite busy. If not, then I have no doubt that I am to enjoy the distinct pleasure of watching four more innocent people die like pigs. If that is to be my night and I am willing to wager that it is, then please forgive me. It is difficult to write when one is unconscious. I shall attempt to attend to writing in the morning when I awaken. No doubt I will still be here.
You are reading a Journal entry. Since any campaign is a collaborative effort, Journal and RP entries by our other players can be read here.
Return to The Dark Corners of the Earth
