cleaned—or at least smeared into the pockmarked wood floor enough to be unnoticeable—she stopped at the closet door again to catch her breath. Tiny beads of sweat popped out across her forehead and caused her hair to stick to her temples. Once she was inside the closet, she saw the nail protruding near a final spot of her blood. She moved in carefully, no longer trusting the wood floor, and rubbed the rag against the stain, cautious not to catch her finger on the evil nail.
Loose wood shifted under the pressure of the hand towel. At first, Adrienne thought nothing of the creak, creak, creak sound it made. But something stopped her. She shifted her weight and noticed there were three nails in the floor that looked like they’d been removed and replaced many times. Hair hung in her face, obscuring portions of her view, so she gathered the strands on one side, spun them into a rope, and tucked it beneath the collar of her shirt.
The old plank flooring of the closet was a mix of short scrap pieces. Two pieces were loose enough to wiggle back and forth beneath the wobbly nails. She reached to the protruding spike that had snagged her foot and grabbed it. It slid out easily.
Adrienne adjusted to a more comfortable position and reached between the ill-fitting planks to get a decent grip. The first pulled up easily, groaning as it did. A gaping hole stared back. It was about six inches wide and ten inches long. Though it was covered in dust and cobwebs, she could see the distinct shape of something hidden inside.
She pushed the door open more to illuminate the space and cast a light into the shadowy hole. Brushing aside thoughts of spiders and other creepy crawlies, she reached under the other plank and tugged. It groaned, but wouldn’t give. She readjusted herself on her knees and tugged again. It moved only slightly, but it was enough to fuel her intent, so she rocked the plank back and forth until it finally gave up the battle. The scent of dust and decay rose.
Adrienne used her forearm to push back the hair that had escaped. Pieces were matted to her wet brow where even more sweat had accumulated in her struggle. She set this plank on the floor by the first one and reached into the hole.
The book was sheathed in a light cotton material that could once have been a piece of a bedsheet or part of an old dress. The cotton, though threadbare and decomposing, had kept the book safe for a very long time. Dust rose as she unwrapped it and examined the front cover.
It held no lock and looked to be an inexpensive journal. Brittle pages clicked as she pulled the book open to examine its inside cover. It was stiff from years of disuse, but the words were legible and clear. The front cover sported the name she had hoped she would find.
Adrienne hobbled from the room and down the stairs. Maybe she would get all her questions answered now. Maybe this would help her understand about Gracie and her bitter betrayal. And maybe Adrienne could get to know Sara from these pages.
Once at the table, Adrienne flipped the book open and hoped to find page after page of Sara’s thoughts.
Writing on page one. Two. Adrienne frowned, her fingers gliding through more pages, empty pages. Her eyes scanned as if her intensity could will words and thoughts into the book. Writing on page three. Her nose tickled with so much dust and she wriggled it, not wanting to sneeze.
Disappointment worked its way through her system. Only a few pages at the front of the book had been written on. At least those might answer some questions , she assured herself. But after thirty minutes of reading the same four entries over and over, Adrienne was more confused than ever.
Dear Diary,
I haven’t had a diary before, so I’m probably not going to be very good at this. I’m not planning on keeping this going for very long, but I have to have someone to talk to about what I’ve done.
I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, but I know it’s going to. Gracie is gone,
Loose wood shifted under the pressure of the hand towel. At first, Adrienne thought nothing of the creak, creak, creak sound it made. But something stopped her. She shifted her weight and noticed there were three nails in the floor that looked like they’d been removed and replaced many times. Hair hung in her face, obscuring portions of her view, so she gathered the strands on one side, spun them into a rope, and tucked it beneath the collar of her shirt.
The old plank flooring of the closet was a mix of short scrap pieces. Two pieces were loose enough to wiggle back and forth beneath the wobbly nails. She reached to the protruding spike that had snagged her foot and grabbed it. It slid out easily.
Adrienne adjusted to a more comfortable position and reached between the ill-fitting planks to get a decent grip. The first pulled up easily, groaning as it did. A gaping hole stared back. It was about six inches wide and ten inches long. Though it was covered in dust and cobwebs, she could see the distinct shape of something hidden inside.
She pushed the door open more to illuminate the space and cast a light into the shadowy hole. Brushing aside thoughts of spiders and other creepy crawlies, she reached under the other plank and tugged. It groaned, but wouldn’t give. She readjusted herself on her knees and tugged again. It moved only slightly, but it was enough to fuel her intent, so she rocked the plank back and forth until it finally gave up the battle. The scent of dust and decay rose.
Adrienne used her forearm to push back the hair that had escaped. Pieces were matted to her wet brow where even more sweat had accumulated in her struggle. She set this plank on the floor by the first one and reached into the hole.
The book was sheathed in a light cotton material that could once have been a piece of a bedsheet or part of an old dress. The cotton, though threadbare and decomposing, had kept the book safe for a very long time. Dust rose as she unwrapped it and examined the front cover.
It held no lock and looked to be an inexpensive journal. Brittle pages clicked as she pulled the book open to examine its inside cover. It was stiff from years of disuse, but the words were legible and clear. The front cover sported the name she had hoped she would find.
Adrienne hobbled from the room and down the stairs. Maybe she would get all her questions answered now. Maybe this would help her understand about Gracie and her bitter betrayal. And maybe Adrienne could get to know Sara from these pages.
Once at the table, Adrienne flipped the book open and hoped to find page after page of Sara’s thoughts.
Writing on page one. Two. Adrienne frowned, her fingers gliding through more pages, empty pages. Her eyes scanned as if her intensity could will words and thoughts into the book. Writing on page three. Her nose tickled with so much dust and she wriggled it, not wanting to sneeze.
Disappointment worked its way through her system. Only a few pages at the front of the book had been written on. At least those might answer some questions , she assured herself. But after thirty minutes of reading the same four entries over and over, Adrienne was more confused than ever.
Dear Diary,
I haven’t had a diary before, so I’m probably not going to be very good at this. I’m not planning on keeping this going for very long, but I have to have someone to talk to about what I’ve done.
I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, but I know it’s going to. Gracie is gone,
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