Diary of an Unknown Woman

{TW: Miscarriage, Sexual Violence, Physical Violence, Death}

Sextilius 4 1634

We are starving. Johannes is sick, and he isn’t getting better. Fortunately, Jack is a skilled hunter who never misses his mark. That’s one of the reasons I married him, though there wasn’t much of a market so to speak. He was among 4 bachelors in the community, and the only one not twenty plus years my senior.

Usually he takes about two days to search for game, a half day hike into the slowly encroaching trees that surrounded was usually enough for him to eye an elk or a stag. Then another to stalk it, kill it, and gut it. I was raised under the fact that the woods are cursed and never ventured into them. All of the community says so, and choose to trade or hunt in the town over. Jack thinks they are paranoid.

He always gave back to the land by thanking the animal for it’s sacrifice, and leaving the carcass for the scavengers nearby. It is important to him that the wood knows how grateful he is for supplying his family with nourishment. He has made mention that lately his offerings go to waste. I think he is quite queer in his thinking, but he means well.

Jack is on a fortnight of being gone and I grow more and more worried about him with every day that passes. He only took enough rations for a day that was supposed to last him three, saying I need the other rations to sustain our child growing in my belly. My only consolation is that he is skilled in what he does. He may very well still be alive. All I want is to hear him call me his flower as he greets Barty once more.

Barty goes searching for him everyday. Only coming back right before dark, checking my stomach before he trots to his side of our bed. Johannes swears a changeling has taken my pet, and that we must put him down for the good of the community. That a crack in the foundation must be fixed before it reaches the walls and caves in. The preacher has started to side with him, stating the woods are no longer safe to travel in, and that only a fool would go deep into them, animals included. I think Barty knows something I do not.

Our stock is lowering, much to Jack’s dismay, and the reason he is gone. He worries that Johannes will die from starvation, and that I will go soon after. I try to ease his worries by assuring him we will be here when he gets back.

I have tried my hand at gardening with Johannes overseeing my efforts to no avail. He claims the blood of his blood should be able to grow an onion, however I have had no such luck. He scolds me in his mother tongue, something my parents never taught me. I can make out my name and my name alone in his thickened accent. I just want to ease some of Jack’s worries of our slender pantry, but nothing grows in this soil save for my patience for the loud, elderly man in the chair.

He was too frail to make the journey by boat, his knees weakening with each step, complaining every path walked until finally it ended in his bed. He sits wailing most nights upright, complaining of the sounds coming from my Barty and how he smells of wet dog. I whisper into Barty’s fuzzy ear and feed him another biscuit.

I hate this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I can feel Jack’s life slipping away from me. I worry I may never see him again. This feeling of helplessness and frailty is filling my chest with hot melting fury. I can’t be helpless in our time of need, and I must endure for the sake of my husband. I suppose for my grandfather as well much to my dismay.

My hope for this journal is that it will bring me solace and ease my nerves. Proof that we were here, and that we endured as best we could.

Sextilius 12 1634

Jack is still not back. The likeliness that he is alive is shrinking by the day and my nerves have not made peace with that. I feel he is alive, though no others believe me. I try to venture out into the woods but I am stopped every time. The Preacher blames Jack for venturing towards the trees though I have pleaded it was out of necessity. To make matters worse, I hear a horrible breathing outside of my window. I suspect it may be one of the others in the area, but I cannot place who it may be. No one I know makes the sounds I heard that night.

Johannes struck me in front of the clergy for speaking out of tongue making the members look upon me with pity. I was so overtaken with grief and rage that I struck him back, causing him to bleed from his head. He is now bedridden for the foreseeable future.

That act of defiance earned me a lashing along with a strung up arm outside of the now horseless stables for a dreadful 2 days. Thankfully, Barty brought me fruit from the trees and water skins filled from the local brooks. I didn’t train him for that, but perhaps Jack did. Exhaustion is slipping over me, sinking me further into this darkness so deep and deadly. I don’t want to die in vain. I want to pull through this difficulty and find Jack. Even if it only be his cold body.

Sextilius 15 1634

I am afraid for my life. A wild rasp at the door startled me in the night waking Barty and I. My faithful protector barked wildly, driving whatever it was away, but waking Johannes. He struck me in his anger causing Barty to growl fiercely, his fur sticking every which way. Johannes struck him in trying to aim for me, hindering his furred back, and handicapping his hind legs. He can still walk, but not without a whimper or painful howl. I spoke with preacher about it, to no avail. He says I should forgive Johannes and turn the other cheek. He offered to put down Barty then cursed me when I called him a heartless heathen.

He has hurt me beyond words that I refuse to speak here. He left me with torn clothing and my dignity exposed. I need to find a way to stop the blood from pooling at my feet or I may die from the damage. When I asked for any extra linen I was turned away. I fear my fellow parish have turned their backs on me and my ravings but they still keep me from venturing too deep into the trees.

My tears will stain these floors for the rest of my days. Barty’s whines from my meager bed mix with mine as we share our debilitated pain. I lay cuddling with him, trying to massage his poor hips and joints. He does his best to console my poor womb, however I fear my child did not survive. My last remnants of Jack here are gone, and my will to live have gone with it. Johannes will starve in his deathbed for this.

September 3 1634

Each day I find myself wandering closer and closer to the woods while thinking about finding Jack. I don’t remember walking the path, however I find myself picking berries and wild onions on the cusp of the perimeter. I find that as the threat level increases, so does my unconscious want to venture further and further. Barty has healed with a limp, though Johannes claims the pup has taken to mocking him. I believe that Johannes has delusions in his desperate hunger. Maybe when I forgive him I will stop the deprivation of nourishment for his frail lifeless body. I expected him to be dead by now. I suspect he thrives on spite and begging of the preachers table scraps.

I have so far survived on the gifts I receive from the woods. Some days in my grief, I can hear Jack calling to me, begging me to venture just a little further. I have sworn to myself and God I would go, but I am forced to stay in the safety of my community. The teachings and pleas of our preacher beg us to not venture close during the day, and to stay indoors at night.

A mighty beast roams our lands and has taken to consuming our flock and land. Nothing grows here any longer. The children are stunted, our crops have withered, and our community shrinks every other day. I find that as the community shrinks, my fried nerves go with it. I am ashamed to say that I feel nothing for the recently deceased. I see faces that shied away from mine whenever they witnessed Johannes striking me. Bodies that turned away when our flock leader berated and assaulted me in front of them. My dignity and my center are still bruised and no help has been given though I have pleaded through tears. So long as they show no remorse or help, I will not return. They have scorned me for the last time.

September 13 1634

Johannes still has not left us. What must I do to further end his suffering? I am tired of the incessant crying, swinging his cane weakly and trying to strike down Barty. His lunatic ravings of my dog being a changeling beast has spread to the other members of the community. The preacher has taken to trying to coax him into his yard with poisoned meats and iron nails. Thankfully, Jack raised him to know the difference between fresh food and the rotted. I have thankfully been eating off of vegetables I have found near the wood. The community tells me it is poisoned by the devil himself. That if I eat too much it shall be like committing the original sin. I am starting to think they see themselves as mightier than I.

As a child, I saw this place as paradise. As an adult I now see it as a hellish prison.

September 15 1634

Last night Barty leapt through the window and killed the preacher. Because of this, I have taken to locking myself in my room along with him. He apparently ripped out the bastards throat and dragged him across my attackers lawn. I fear for not my life, but his. He is everything I have here. He is the only thing I can trust. His bark the only thing that clears my head. I do not feel remorse for the man and I hate myself for how resentful I have become.

The others come to my door reciting prayers and verses that do not pertain to me. The knocking at my front door has worsened and I wake to scratches and gouges outside my bedroom window. Barty does his best to be intimidating, but his voice has grown hoarse from overuse. I hear Johannes bemoan to the beast on the other side of the walls that he wishes for it to take me.

I am tired. I haven’t slept in three days. The others have broken down my door to take me away, only to be stopped by a grotesque, guttural roar raging towards the home with no known source. I still know not what caused it, but when I awoke my door was fixed.

At night the monsters come, and I am not sure who I am afraid of more. The parish have grown more and more violent towards my companion and I worry they may harm him even more than they already have. The preachers son comes and slams his fathers bible against my windows stating that I killed his father. For the hurt I have lived with, it is the least that should have been done in retribution.

The walls have started to speak to me. I cannot explain it. They mock me and my slow murder of Johannes. They tell me he will live forever. He has been here long before me, and he will be here long after me. I have debated turning against my colony and fleeing into the night. I wonder if it is the appropriate response, but something tells me that it is. This place is cursed, I cannot explain how I know it, but I do. I wish Jack were here. He would know what to do. I will live long enough to hear him speak sweetly to me once again.

September 17 1634

I fear I will die here alone. Johannes has finally passed. I buried him myself after everyone went into their houses before sundown. I am the only one stupid enough to go out at night now, if only to get this horrid body out of my house. Barty dug the hole for me, and I dragged the body out of the window. It took me longer than it should have, but I managed. I think Jack would be proud.

I have grown stronger somehow, though since Johannes has died I have found more supplies than I ever thought possible. The banging on my door has increased, both during the day and night. My posts have started to weaken and I think the house may collapse soon. We may be forced to leave here sooner than I had hoped. Pray for me, though my sins are so great I don’t think God will listen.

September 18 1634

I left my home after they set fire to it. Those monsters came to kill me in my brief moments of sleep. Barty alerted me and guided me towards the back window. I tried to run for the road, my teachings in the community running deep, but he bit into my arm to guide me towards the wood. That was hours ago and the trees know nothing of an end. Barty trots along beside me, his tongue lolling to the side in a way it hasn’t in months. It brings a smile to my face, though I know not why. I can’t explain it, but I feel happy. I think I have truly gone mad. I’m coming Jack. I know in my heart you are alive and nothing will sway me.

NO DATE

Barty found a large body with a beastly form and sharp claws. The rasping sound that came from its heaving body was distinct and I recognized it instantly as the one outside my home all of those sleepless nights. It’s bones popped and snapped in a wet thud as it slowly sloshed around to approach Barty, greeting him and scratching his chin like an old friend. My protector approached it as if it were a familiar face, and I admit it was. The jarring appearance of the creature sent into a panic while its once furry form tried to face me but couldn’t out of shame. I know that for certain now.

“I failed you my flower.”