mydarrling


Alice’s Diary – A New Friend

February 6, 2014


Hi readers! I am so sorry it has been so long since I have written. I just started a new semester at college and it has been crazy. But now that I am getting better hang of it I will try to be more consistent with my entries. Stay awesome, Twilighters! -Rachel

 

Dear Diary,

Jasper and I arrived in Lake Lure yesterday. It’s absolutely beautiful here. The lake is nestled in the mountains and it has a way of taking your breath away—even if you don’t breathe. We are staying at a place called Fox Run Town Houses while we are here on our quest. If we were human this place would be paradise. As it is there are deer that run amok on the golf course at night, so hunting isn’t too difficult. We just have to make sure we clean up after ourselves.

We met someone who might be able to help us today, but let me tell you how first. We went to the Mountains Branch Library and looked up some old town records. From what we were able to find there was a mental home here called St. Josephines Home for Mentally Ill. It shut down in 1912 right after the Titanic sank, as it burned down. It was a huge freaky coincidence for the town residents at the time. We then were able to locate the homes old records that were rescued from the fire. Turns out, there were not too many there at the time I was there. When we did find my file, Jazz and I hesitated.

“If you’re not ready you don’t have to look at what’s inside yet, love,” Jasper said, patting my back.

I squared my shoulders, swallowed my apprehension (or maybe fear), and opened the file.

My name really was Alice (good guessing on my part, I suppose). Alice Elinor Jones. My mother and father were heavily involved in the church. When my father died in 1890, I was only three years old. So my growing up consisted of me and my mother, I suppose. The file does not say anything about my home life, but there is so much more I could learn. It is reported in here that I was committed at the age of 24 for claiming I could see the future (go figure). My mother is quoted as saying,”She claims that she knows how my choices will affect me. She claims to know that one day there will be no slaves. I have no daughter. She is a monster.”

I had to walk away.

Jasper comes up behind me and wraps his arms around me.

“Alice, are you all right?”

“She hated me, Jazz. My own mother hated me. Did I have no family other than her that wouldn’t have sent me away? Did I have nobody to fight for me?!” I was becoming hysterical now; it’s lucky I can’t cry.

“Shhh, love. It’ll be alright. We’re just now cracking the surface of your life.”

We took a break from the file itself and started looking through the pictures. I looked like an even mixture of both of my parents. I have my fathers eyes, nose, and cheek bones. I have my mothers small stature, and her hair.

Makes me wonder how she could look at me and hate what she saw. What did I do that was so bad?

Suddenly Jasper and I hear the shuffling of feet behind us. We turn around and there stands a 40-something-year-old woman. She looks like she has just seen a ghost.

“Pardon me, but you look just like my grandmother. Which is impossible since she died 10 years ago,but still—it’s like seeing her again. When she was 23, she looked just like you. Here.” She pulls out this little wallet picture and Jazz and I look.

This woman does look like me. From the small stature, to the eyes, to the hair.

“What is your name?” Jasper asks her.

“My name is Hannah A. Jones. Granddaughter of Elizabeth M. Jones.”

I gasp and look at Jasper, that was my mothers name. Which means after she had me committed, she had more children whom she remained close with.

Then, it gets weirder. She looks at me and says, “I can tell what you guys are. And I know what you were reading over there. I also know that Alice Jones was one body never accounted for when the home burnt down. I have information you want. And you have information on Mother that I want. Please, stay and let me help you.”

It takes a lot to shock me, but I stood there mouth gaping.

Once I recovered I looked at her and said, “Where and when do you want to talk?”

“My house. Thursday. It’s just 3 blocks down from here.”

“We’ll be there.” Jazz wraps his arms around me. “But for now we must go.” And we start walking towards the exit.

Just as we are nearing the door I turn around and asked, “Hey, Hannah. What does your middle initial stand for?”

She just smiles. “It stands for Alice.”

Will write again soon!

XOXO

Alice

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