Septemeber 5th, 1882
I didn't write yesterday. My mother read my first journal and told me she was going to burn it because it was going to get me burnt, well she actually said I was going to hell if I kept writing such profanity. My comeback was "I guess I'll burn then." I was sent out to the stalls all day to clean up horse dung. Course she was mad that I came in muddy and gross, why didn't I do it like a lady? How will I ever find a man if I can't learn to do things like a woman should?
Today I snuck away to the woods to write, so here I am writing about how sad and dead yesterday was and today... not much different besides this time alone.
I woke up today, made bread for the day, had tea, prepped for dinner, and found a way to sneak to the woods to write and then it was time for bed.
Goodnight world.
YOU ARE READING
The Journal Of Martlina 1882
FantasyThe Journal of a young woman living in 1882, when writing and reading were just granted to women. When a man runs the world and a woman just lives in it. A story about finding love, war, and balance just to survive.
