thebrandster
03-03-2010, 04:38 AM
This is going to be a journal entry found within a much larger story that will give the main character some insight into what he has found himself in. The story in the journal entry takes place somewhere around the 1850's. The main story is closer to the present time, and just to let any curious readers know, the context of the story as a whole cannot be understood with just these entries.
What I'm really looking for is opinions on the narrative. Does it sound authentic to that time period? I've written a story before that required me to try and match the writing style of a certain era, and that is what I've attempted to do with this as well. Though this is my first draft(I just wrote it), and it isn't near finished, I wonder if anyone has some insight into how the text feels to them. Does the journal entry read like one you would expect from the mid 1850's? Also keep in mind that this character is not particularly high class. :D
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Journal Entry 1
It's been months since I've found myself sitting down to write, and I have good reason. There ain't really a time in my life I can think that I've found myself so soaked. I find myself drinking the whiskey for every meal, making it the main course. The beans come second, and almost reluctantly. Can a man live off of whiskey?
The mirror shows me some pitiful deadbeat. I don't even bother changing my clothes anymore. I stink. I haven't been in the bath for weeks and I've had the chance several times. I wonder now if I should even bother going back to Louisiana after all this time. God forbid me waddling back empty handed. It's been two years since I've seen my wife and children. I haven't sent a letter in six months. By now shes got the rightful title of a California Widow, and if I'm lucky she thinks I'm dead. I've come too late it seems. There ain't any gold around, and where there is, someone's already staked claim. But God as my witness I sure did try.
Journal Entry 2
I broke that God Damned mirror. It disturbed me too much. I threw the damn bottle of whiskey right into it, breaking both. Before I sat down to write in this journal, the only thing I could think of to calm my mind, I paced around the room. I felt like a newly trapped animal in a cage. I didn't know what to do without the whiskey. I have no more money. I have no more alcohol. In a few days I won't have no bed to sleep in. I wish my wife was here. She always had a way of making me right. I can't help but think the worst for her. In my mind shes either too poor to feed the children or with some other man. I feel sick thinking about some other man laying with her, but maybe it's the best. That way maybe she can at least eat. I've spent all the funds I came this way with. I don't know what I have left to do. I've wasted my time here. Two years. A man doesn't live long enough to waste two years away from his family. I would have been better off not making this trip. I should have known the stories I heard had nothing to them. I have to find a way home. Maybe I can start over.
Journal Entry 3
I quit drinking a few days ago. I don't know how long I drank straight, but I'd bet it was months. I practically had a barstool in my name. I've never been like this before. Drink never was a problem for me. These men, it's all they do. And I ain't no preacher, I couldn't help but get caught up in it. Especially since there just ain't no gold left. I don't know if I came to the wrong town or if I just came too late, but there ain't nothing here.
It doesn't matter though. If there is one thing that I ain't going to do, it's die here alone. The hottest fires in the deepest pits of hell don't have the strength to force me into that fate. I plan on seeing my wife again and I won't let her fear for me any longer. I hate to think of what I've already put her through in the last few months. In fact, I don't know what I'm wasting ink here for. I need to write her and let her know what I've been doing here. I've been through a difficulty of mind, and I think she ought to know that I'm coming home.
Journal Entry 4
When I was getting my things to write my wife, I found myself a strange map. I had almost forgotten about it. I remember it now. It was quite the stormy day. A good excuse to coop up in the bar and drink. It was one of the few days that we had a legitimate excuse for not working, just about every seat in the chapter house had a man to it. One of the boys sitting next to me, an old Coolie, was dead asleep on the bar. He'd been asleep for nearly thirty minutes when the bar tender ordered him out. When he lifted from his seat you'd think his pockets were lined with gold and the Chinaman plummeted right to the ground. I laughed a good one, completely oblivious to how drunk I myself was. Most of us had probably had a drop to much, after all we'd had nothing better to do then drink since morning. I remember that not long after the Chinamen left I ordered another cup of whiskey and before it arrived the Chinamen's seat was already taken. I payed no mind to the man, I wanted one more cup and then the bed. I was as full as a tick and not sober enough for conversation. Well waiting for my whiskey I started to notice that the stranger was staring at me. Now, I ain't never been one to needlessly start something bad with another man, but no one likes to be stared at so blatantly. I tried to ignore it, but in my state I couldn't control my lip and turned to the man. He was dressed like a dude and it was obvious that he did not belong in this town in any fashion. I asked him if there was something I could help him with. I think at that point I realized how drunk I was because the mans face was blurry. I could only make out his mouth, and the smile the man gave me was downright disturbing. I wouldn't be sure how to paint it, but it made me feel sick. He smiled like that for a long while before he finally spoke. He told me that he had something of value for me, if I was interested. I looked away as he spoke, that damned smile never left his lips. I asked him what the hell he was talking about. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the man reach for his pocket. I was starting to feel real sick. He took my bag from the ground and told me that he was putting a map somewhere where I wouldn't lose it. I was too sick to stop him. If he had wanted to steal something, I don't think I would have lifted a finger. It was a special map he told me. He said that it would take me to the remnants of some town that he said was flowing with gold. I don't know what triggered it, but right when I heard "flowing" I let up my stomach all over the bar. The bar tender started hollering for me to get out, and when I looked up the man was gone. Whatever questions I had wanted to ask the man left with him, and by the time I had stumbled outside to let my stomach loose I had completely forgot about him and the map. Today when I opened up my letter paper I found it stuffed in between a few sheets. I'm going to give it another day or two for thought, and then I may very well find myself in this town. It doesn't look far from here. I may go home rich yet.
What I'm really looking for is opinions on the narrative. Does it sound authentic to that time period? I've written a story before that required me to try and match the writing style of a certain era, and that is what I've attempted to do with this as well. Though this is my first draft(I just wrote it), and it isn't near finished, I wonder if anyone has some insight into how the text feels to them. Does the journal entry read like one you would expect from the mid 1850's? Also keep in mind that this character is not particularly high class. :D
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Journal Entry 1
It's been months since I've found myself sitting down to write, and I have good reason. There ain't really a time in my life I can think that I've found myself so soaked. I find myself drinking the whiskey for every meal, making it the main course. The beans come second, and almost reluctantly. Can a man live off of whiskey?
The mirror shows me some pitiful deadbeat. I don't even bother changing my clothes anymore. I stink. I haven't been in the bath for weeks and I've had the chance several times. I wonder now if I should even bother going back to Louisiana after all this time. God forbid me waddling back empty handed. It's been two years since I've seen my wife and children. I haven't sent a letter in six months. By now shes got the rightful title of a California Widow, and if I'm lucky she thinks I'm dead. I've come too late it seems. There ain't any gold around, and where there is, someone's already staked claim. But God as my witness I sure did try.
Journal Entry 2
I broke that God Damned mirror. It disturbed me too much. I threw the damn bottle of whiskey right into it, breaking both. Before I sat down to write in this journal, the only thing I could think of to calm my mind, I paced around the room. I felt like a newly trapped animal in a cage. I didn't know what to do without the whiskey. I have no more money. I have no more alcohol. In a few days I won't have no bed to sleep in. I wish my wife was here. She always had a way of making me right. I can't help but think the worst for her. In my mind shes either too poor to feed the children or with some other man. I feel sick thinking about some other man laying with her, but maybe it's the best. That way maybe she can at least eat. I've spent all the funds I came this way with. I don't know what I have left to do. I've wasted my time here. Two years. A man doesn't live long enough to waste two years away from his family. I would have been better off not making this trip. I should have known the stories I heard had nothing to them. I have to find a way home. Maybe I can start over.
Journal Entry 3
I quit drinking a few days ago. I don't know how long I drank straight, but I'd bet it was months. I practically had a barstool in my name. I've never been like this before. Drink never was a problem for me. These men, it's all they do. And I ain't no preacher, I couldn't help but get caught up in it. Especially since there just ain't no gold left. I don't know if I came to the wrong town or if I just came too late, but there ain't nothing here.
It doesn't matter though. If there is one thing that I ain't going to do, it's die here alone. The hottest fires in the deepest pits of hell don't have the strength to force me into that fate. I plan on seeing my wife again and I won't let her fear for me any longer. I hate to think of what I've already put her through in the last few months. In fact, I don't know what I'm wasting ink here for. I need to write her and let her know what I've been doing here. I've been through a difficulty of mind, and I think she ought to know that I'm coming home.
Journal Entry 4
When I was getting my things to write my wife, I found myself a strange map. I had almost forgotten about it. I remember it now. It was quite the stormy day. A good excuse to coop up in the bar and drink. It was one of the few days that we had a legitimate excuse for not working, just about every seat in the chapter house had a man to it. One of the boys sitting next to me, an old Coolie, was dead asleep on the bar. He'd been asleep for nearly thirty minutes when the bar tender ordered him out. When he lifted from his seat you'd think his pockets were lined with gold and the Chinaman plummeted right to the ground. I laughed a good one, completely oblivious to how drunk I myself was. Most of us had probably had a drop to much, after all we'd had nothing better to do then drink since morning. I remember that not long after the Chinamen left I ordered another cup of whiskey and before it arrived the Chinamen's seat was already taken. I payed no mind to the man, I wanted one more cup and then the bed. I was as full as a tick and not sober enough for conversation. Well waiting for my whiskey I started to notice that the stranger was staring at me. Now, I ain't never been one to needlessly start something bad with another man, but no one likes to be stared at so blatantly. I tried to ignore it, but in my state I couldn't control my lip and turned to the man. He was dressed like a dude and it was obvious that he did not belong in this town in any fashion. I asked him if there was something I could help him with. I think at that point I realized how drunk I was because the mans face was blurry. I could only make out his mouth, and the smile the man gave me was downright disturbing. I wouldn't be sure how to paint it, but it made me feel sick. He smiled like that for a long while before he finally spoke. He told me that he had something of value for me, if I was interested. I looked away as he spoke, that damned smile never left his lips. I asked him what the hell he was talking about. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the man reach for his pocket. I was starting to feel real sick. He took my bag from the ground and told me that he was putting a map somewhere where I wouldn't lose it. I was too sick to stop him. If he had wanted to steal something, I don't think I would have lifted a finger. It was a special map he told me. He said that it would take me to the remnants of some town that he said was flowing with gold. I don't know what triggered it, but right when I heard "flowing" I let up my stomach all over the bar. The bar tender started hollering for me to get out, and when I looked up the man was gone. Whatever questions I had wanted to ask the man left with him, and by the time I had stumbled outside to let my stomach loose I had completely forgot about him and the map. Today when I opened up my letter paper I found it stuffed in between a few sheets. I'm going to give it another day or two for thought, and then I may very well find myself in this town. It doesn't look far from here. I may go home rich yet.