Sharp
• Sail •

“If you need me I’ll be in the basement. Just knock on the door and I’ll come up to help you with whatever you need. Also since you’ve been snooping around, we installed an additional on the main floor. All you need to do is knock on the door.

“There is food in the fridge and the cabinets next to the fridge. You are welcome to whatever you want to eat when you get hungry. And if you need to go to the restroom you can use the bathroom on this floor.”

“Thanks. I’ll definitely take this time to read as much as I can. Hopefully I can finish the book.”

“Well, here’s the time to do so.”

I sat on the very sofa that he first presented me the journal. Felt like the right place to continually read up.

Tony was off to the kitchen area to go to the basement. I didn’t want to ask him what his business was down there since I was trying to sneak down there. Seemed that it wasn’t any of my business as to what he was doing. Since I’m off limits to that specific area.

My fingers shuffled through the pages to find the spot I left off at, since I didn’t have a marker in the book to do that for me.

France, Mios

April 22nd, 1720

Traveling today has worn out my legs and feet to its fullest capacity. Art hasn’t been as worn out as I have been, making me believe that this pregnancy is affecting me more than I thought it would have. We did very well today, but he expects us to be at the coast by sun down tomorrow.

On our travels, we stopped at a small shop that was selling maps. Art bought one and we have been amazed with how much land we have travelled. Giving us more information on how much more we have to go. Luckily, there isn’t much left from what we had already achieved.

Art says he will massage my feet and legs to aid them out of pain. To hopefully encourage me to walk more. I notice my feet have been sweating up from the extensive walking. I’ve also started to really show and I suspect to be at least half way through the pregnancy. The little baby doesn’t move much when we are walking. At night the baby squirms around as much as possible, preventing me to get the much needed sleep.

Art says that when we sail and arrive to our new home, I might be expected to give birth in the upcoming weeks after. He isn’t sure how long it’ll take to travel, but he’s heard from the old vineyard owner that it can take more than a month. Sometimes, even 2 months.

I’m scared most about having to delivery on the boat. It just doesn’t sit all that well with me. If it ends up happening, there isn’t anything I can do. I would just not prefer it.

France, Gujan Mestras

April 23rd, 1720

We’ve made it to the coast. The water looks impeccable and gives me plenty hope about traveling. We’ve safely travelled all this way.

Many places have been closed for sleeping. With the plague, not many people are out and about. Leaving us unable to ask for directions and information on where to set sail. Even how to get to the proper sail boat to Colonial America.

Art hasn’t had much luck, since he does most of the talking. He has talked to a few townsman, but none of them had answers to our questions. Since traveling isn’t in their interest, making sense to why they couldn’t care about the information.

I offered to just keep going east, but Art has been extremely stubborn to that idea. I’ve not seen him this angry. He might have expected us to leave right away in God’s hope. He’s prayed every night with me. The prayer he says the most is to find a boat once we make it there. Though, I don’t think we are ‘there’ yet.

I can feel baby has been eager to sail too, that or the settling and less movement has him awake more.

France, Arcachon

April 26th, 1720

After several days of begging Art to travel further, he finally had listened. In my dreams, we’ve been surrounded by more water. Many boats on the coast, ready to set sail. Larger than any I have ever seen.

Once we made it into town, it was clear that we were in the right place. Art apologized and should have trusted my instinct. I was just happy he listened finally.

We found out yesterday that one boat is set to sail tomorrow morning. We are both so eager and ecstatic to set sail and travel beyond this country. A whole new world awaits us.

I’ve had dreams that the land of our future home is large. Largest land I’ve ever seen. A home that was built by us. A little boy running through the field and chasing butterflies. I only wonder where exactly we are headed. What the weather might be year round. I hope so warmer winter and plentiful heat through the summer.

Art has shopped around for extra food that we can carry aboard. Even some blankets to keep us warm. We don’t know what to expect since we’ve never done this before.

The tickets to sail are still very unknown to us. There was many different prices told to us, all within our budget. Yet we are scared for it to be higher than expected. Deep down, I know luck is on our side. I feel it.

France, Arcachon

April 27th, 1720

We have officially made it onto the large ship. I’ve been corrected plenty of times of the correct name that should be used to call this.

Luckily, not many travelers are in need to travel to Colonial America. It is expected that only 50 travelers will even want to sail. Maybe even less. Since the fear of the plague is still ravaging. Sails have been had less occupants. Since they saw I was growing in size, they left us an area that we could call home. Sharing with only a few other traveling. But we would have plenty of space and could easy do as we please.

They expect help when necessary and warn us about pirates. Normally it isn’t an issue, they have to disclose that information and what to do if it were to happen. Which for me, is to take the smaller boats and travel far away. Art understood and was told that every boat carries a compass if that were to happen. Depending on how far we’ve travelled, you either continue east or west.

My hopes are to not to have such a vile thing happen. My heart wouldn’t be able to withstand such a event. I haven’t dreamt of such, so I don’t see it happening in the future. And wish not too.

About our settled spot on the boat, we share a space with 3 other people. 2 men and another lady. The men are large in muscle and have beards of glorious copper brown. They are true travelers and have decided to see what Colonial America is all about.

The lady, either shy or doesn’t care to speak to anyone else. Her skin is very pale and doesn’t see much sun. Her hair is jet black and so shiny. Her bright emerald eyes speak so loudly in color. Catching the men’s attention quickly. The lady has no patience for them and her glares look like they could kill. Even witnessing makes me fear my life. She’s on the completely other side of us, which is great.

We’ve just been told that we will sail tomorrow morning. Delayed in schedule since we’ve only acquired 20 people on the ship. If no more arrive, then traveling will begin at dawn.

Northern Atlantic Ocean

May 1st, 1720

We’ve traveled only a few days and things are just simple. My feet can easily rest as much as they need to. Though I’m aching in my hips and the only things that eases the pain is walking. How ironic. I walk back and north of the dock of the ship. Which tends to make me very sick from the motion of the wide waves.

The lady has looked to be ill. I’ve been quite worried she might have the plague. We’ve noticed others and they haven’t been willing for us to move bunk areas. We haven’t felt any sickness other the motion of the ship. It’s possible it’s affecting her worse than us. Art thinks that, I don’t. He face looks evermore pale than before and her veins look bright blue eager for blood to pump through her.

I can’t help but stare since her beauty still remains, though she looks sick.

Northern Atlantic Ocean

May 28th, 1720

There hasn’t been much to report about our experience on the ship. I had reread my last entry. Revisiting the lady, she wasn’t sick, possibly motion sickness. Which most of us has easily gotten used to.

Sadly, there has been two people missing. One of which is the traveler man in our bunk space. His friend has been devastated. We’ve let himself come closer to us so he isn’t as alone.

Which he has been very kind and we have welcomed him greatly. He’s had plenty tips and information to tell us. Speaking of the countries and places he’s traveled to. Some memories leave him somber but others make him grateful for him friend.

It was suspected that he accidentally fell off when relieving his waste off board. The same thing has been thought about the other man. There was no sight of sadness or depression. Accidents happen they say, so I’ve been more careful.

I also tell my husband to be more careful and to stick together better.

My belly has gotten pretty big. I expect to delivery within 2 months. The baby has been growing well. The fish we have been eating has been in surplus since there are not many of us on the ship. The fish are much fresher and glorious than any I’ve ever had. I can imagine this is how the rich eat. Leaving me satisfied and baby as well. Art has found that he all the food we had saved have gone bad recently. Since we completely forgot of its existence.

The men sailing say we should arrive within the first month. The ocean has bought clear sky’s and no storms. Which is very rare. They worry that a big one is just around the corner waiting to hit us. I really hope not, though in my dreams it has happened. We survive but not with a battle. They tell me to place myself further up in the boat and stay clear of large objects. In case they fly off the floor and in my direction. They even recommended me strapping myself down to the floor if I can to prevent me from flying myself. Which wouldn’t be good for the infant or myself.

I prayed with my husband very hard about it, yet I still constantly have the same reoccurring dreams.

Northern Atlantic Ocean

June 13th, 1720

The ocean has been very still. The waves are non existent.

The men on board who control the sail tell me that a storm is coming soon. Possibly tonight. Urging us to go higher into the boat and strap our belonging to things that won’t fly around constantly or at all. They suggested doors would be a great place to strap things. They urged everyone to stay close together if at all possible. To make sure to count one another and ensure everyone stays safe. For us, we have found a bench installed into the ground in a small room. We cleared the room of all its belonging and strapped be to the bench as well as possible. Art has been stuck to the side of me so that we’re together. My heart races so fast and I can’t even think about what will. All I know is that I am extremely scare.

We strapped out small things underneath the bench tightly. To make sure it was to swing anywhere and was still close with us.

We will be ready for what will come our way. Even though the fear could easily kill us as well.

Northern Atlantic Ocean

June 15th, 1720

That storm almost cost us our lives. 10 other ship travelers died during the chaos of the storm. The ship was close to being tipped over several times from the winds and disruptive waves. All the 10 people were men.

Artois has a large bump of his head from an unexpected book flying though the air. He said to me that he would have taken several more books if it meant I was okay. Even though one book made sure I was okay at this point.

I was surprised that we didn’t end up getting hurt even worse. The violent whiplash could have gotten us unconscious.

We found the black haired women and she looked completely fine as well. She wanted nothing to do with us when we expressed our excitement that she was alright. She looked healthy as could be, yet her anger attitude didn’t seem to dissipate. Her mood always seemed irritated. We even offered her supplies and food and she always rejects them.

Now that the ship has settled and is still voyaging, we are able to clean up and make sure to be ready if it were to happen again. I can’t partake in the clean up but they have let me serve dinner with a few other women. They are both wives to a men that survived the chaotic ocean storm. Both of them have talked about it the whole time. One of the women with the blonde hair explained that her black eye was from a cup flying through the sky, similar to the book hitting Art. The brunette short haired lady limps with her left leg, from her body being thrown around. She has expressed true graciousness for her life still being hers. Their constant talk of it has made me desired to do something else other than food work. I was not a lady for such a servant like job.

I left them when they weren’t looking and happy to say they didn’t try to find me. When I was walking to the dock to walk off the lingering ache, I came across the black haired lady. We stopped in front of each other and stood awkwardly. She asked me how far along I had until I was due for the infants arrival. I told her I wasn’t too sure, but I assumed around 2 months at the most. She stared at my round belly as if she was trying to see through it.

The lady told me that the body was doing good and was very healthy. My emotional self started crying.

Before I could ask her how she knows, she vanished. I’ve never confronted a witch woman before, yet I wanted to know more.

Gulf of Mexico

July 1st, 1720

We only have a day left until we board to Colonial America. Since the ocean storm in mid-June, we have had to deal with another storm. Unfortantely, a few other men had fell off the dock on accident. The ship men have told us that this does occur, but not this often. Especially since the ship hasn’t been as rocky as most ships he’s seen in the past. He laughs at how clumsy some men have gotten.

I haven’t seen that black haired lady since the day she notified me of a healthy little boy. I have been scared to tell Artois, in fear she might be wrong and getting his hopes up.

Plus, we don’t have much longer until I’m ready to deliver. I feel heavier and my emotions have been running wild. I worry that we won’t be able to find land and won’t have enough time to make a home. Scared that I will be forced to deliver of bare ground.

Art has repeatively told me that he will build immediately once land has been bought. Telling me not to fear. The only worry he has is not having women around to support the birth or help village our child. He doesn’t want a child to not have friends and neighbors. Yet he wants space for privacy and to do as we wish.

Colonial America

New Orleans, Louisiana

July 3rd, 1720

We been trying to figure out which way to go to buy land. Art has bought a new map of the land and he thinks we should travel northern away from the ocean, yet close enough to be able to enjoy the delicious fish.

We will have to travel on a boat or a smaller ship in order to travel north. The problem is that our currency isn’t widely used here. So finding a man who can not only sail us across, but take the money that we have.

Besides that, this country is beautiful. The land is moist and the skies are clear. People aren’t worried about the plague since it isn’t as wide spread here like it was back in France.

The people are kind and are willing to help Art and I. Most likely because my belly is quite large and the seams of my clothing are ready to burst.

We have been offered to stay at one of the generous people’s small home, but we declined. Art said, though people are kind here it doesn’t mean we keep our guard down. Since we’ve had plenty of time to rest, he suggests us to walk west and around the large lake.

The only thing that eases the aches in my hips is walking and it would take my mind off of it exploring through the new country. I’ve had enough looking at water, so I suggested to him to just travel with our feet instead. Art agreed, so tomorrow we will travel. We will need to buy plenty of fish and some other foods to keep us feed until we arrive to where we will call home.

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Louisiana

July 5th, 1720

The sun rose through the lake in beautiful oranges and red colors. I woke up before Art did, excited to continue traveling and also my body aching uncomfortably. We did plenty of traveling yesterday, he suggested we walked more 30 kilometers.

Though I’m quite pregnant, it really helps keeping my body in motion. Keeping my hips open and helping baby move to where they need to be. Also the baby sleeping as we walk helps relieve the pain I feel when it kicks me in my ribs.

Art has just woken, we will eat first and off we will go.

Louisiana

July 8th 1720

We met home.

There isn’t many people living out here and land isn’t even for sale. Art says that we will still continue to save our money to be sure that no one takes the land from us.

We will live among a few ladies and their husbands. Most of them travelled from the east to find land that hasn’t already been taken. Their wishes is to call it Covington. I’m not sure as to why, but Art and I agreed that we will pass down to our kin that the land should be called as so.

Art has asked for some help building a home from the local men. He offered money in exchange and they told him that wasn’t necessary. They wanted to see us in a beautiful home.

Art quickly drew an idea of what he wanted the house to be. A large room with a fireplace and plenty of room to be able to give birth inside. Then a narrow enters way to a bedroom and on the opposite side would be another smaller room for when the child grows up. I loved the idea and thought it would be absolutely perfect for our family. The idea of a very large room to have space to do so much made me happy.

Even the ladies offered to help me give birth when the day comes. They said the new baby would bring everyone joy. To see the land to be more of a home. Which was what we wanted for our soon to be young one. For the child to grow up and be loved while having freedom to play through the surrounding woods.

We even told them our desire to have a large family. With plenty of children. One of the ladies told me that is a worry wise choice.

Covington, Louisiana

July 29th, 1720

My body has been feel constant pain, that has a cycle to it. The pain grows silent then comes back with dullness. The pain feels like God is trying to open my hips to let the baby come out. I’ve told the ladies and they said they would be over tomorrow morning. They had to collect some supplies before I give birth. The lady, Natasha, told me my body had much longer to go since this was my first baby. Past morning would be when I delivery.

Also, the large room of our becoming home has finally been finished. It was complete only a couple days ago. The next things on the list would be the bedrooms but that can wait until the baby settles into the new world.

Art has been by my side since the pain has begun. He can’t wait to see his little baby and hold it in his arms. Art keeps saying baby boy, which I haven’t corrected him, but I don’t want to get his hopes up if I say it is when it turns out wrong.

Here the pain comes again. It’s late at night and I should try my best to rest. Who knows when the next time that’ll be.

“How’s the reading going?” Tony caught me off guard as he came around the sofa.

“It’s going very well.” I look at him with excitement, “so Art and Arielle were the ones to live in this home? They made this home?”

His grin seemed awkward.

“Did you read the August entry yet?”

“No..”

“Continue reading, I’ll be in my room whenever you’re ready to come up.” His smile was so bright with his oddly red lips.

“Alright.” I grinned and placed my eyes back on the pages of the journal. There wasn’t many pages left, even though the year hasn’t come to a close end yet.

August 12th, 1720

My heart breaks as I try to write this. I’ve been played. I’m a fool. This home is no home. It’s a room of reminders of what we have lost. What I have lost.

The baby was a boy, just as we predicted. Just as what that lady had told me. She said the baby was healthy.

The baby cried as it should. Before for some reason, he didn’t last one night in this world. Art hasn’t been as emotional as I have been. I can’t seem to move from the inside of this room. A place so big, feels so suffocating.

How can I want to live knowing my first baby is dead? How can I want to want another baby if the first one didn’t get to live a long life?

Art says I need to go on walks, so easy my mind. I decline.

All the baby clothes I have made, for no baby to live in them. Our family didn’t grow. Almost like it didn’t want to.

The ladies were so helpful during giving birth. They even let me have alone time with my baby. To nurse and cuddle my young one. I held him perfectly, yet somehow. He died in my arms.

The ladies don’t even visit anymore. They say nothing to me. Not even Art.

Art has helped me want to write again. Telling me it was what gave me joy. Telling my story, for whom ever might read it in the future. Future kin, future grandchildren, and so on. I’m worried that even this entry has brought me so much sadness.

I can feel myself wanting to die, to be with my baby. I also can’t do that to my loving husband. Leave him on his own.

I hope he doesn’t read this book. But if we try to have another baby, I think I might leave after. This life has always been so cruel. Art has been the light in my life. Treated me kinder than any soul I’ve ever known.

The light is gone though. I can’t live much longer. It doesn’t feel right. I will make another baby for my husband, but once the baby is old enough, I have to leave. I need to be with my first born. My first love. He’s alone on the other side. He needs his mommy.

My jaw was open and a few tears fell down my face. How could the baby have been dead?

The journal only had a few more entries. I almost didn’t want to ready it. It felt wrong to read it now. As my backpack sat on the floor and I pushed my legs to the ground.

I began hustling my body towards the stairs. The stairs creaked quickly and loud every time I quickly stepped up the stair steps. The horizon of the 2nd floor showed Tony’s door to be open, but he wasn’t in sight.

Once I reached to his room, another tear fell down my face.

“Her baby dies? Why?!”

He held his arms open while on the edge of the bed.

“Come here.” Which I did. I let him calm my sadness for his ancestor. For she lost her glimmer of light. Her depression and her being suicidal thoughts were hard for myself. I’ve grown to wish her nothing. It the best. In the end, she lost baby. I can’t even imagine such a lost like that.

“I can’t read the rest, Tony.” I unwrapped myself from him. “Could you quickly just tell me the ending?”

“Of course I can.” He pat the bed for me to sit beside him. I sat close to him, to where our thighs are touching. “As you know, she deals with great grief. As any mother would. She doesn’t write for 5 months. The next entry is still full of sadness, even with knowledge of expecting another baby.

“Art has shown to be excited and she has no drive to be excited with him. Her depression isn’t healthy and she continues to live to make sure Art has a child. The rest of the house was made and they even grew a garden to grow food. Arielle only grew the garden to give her something to do but it didn’t give her happiness.

“When she gave birth to a healthy, living baby boy. She thought she was happy, but the depression came back worse. She said she was going to keep herself alive until the boy lived to be 2 years old. Unfortunately, her demons were stronger than her strength. She killed herself. There is one journal about Art’s side. It also explains what happened with the first baby and what the neighbor ladies had told him. It’s not a very happy story to be told though.”

“Wait, what do you mean?”

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