My alarm clock went off like it usually did, loud and beeping next to my ear. I slammed my hand down on the snooze button repeatedly until it stopped, and let my hand fall lazily. I groaned as I sat up, rubbing my eyes groggily, looking outside. It was so bright that the sun hurt my eyes, but I closed the curtains so my eyes could adjust to the light. My morning would follow and be as boring as it was every morning; I'd get ready for my job as a cashier at a dollar store, followed by freezing in my stupid car that barely runs and has no heating system. Did I like working at a dollar store? No, but it was the only job I could get right now. I had a dream about being in a show, a musical, and be the center of attention I've always wanted to be. But the auditions haven't really been working out, but Disney has taught me one thing; If you dream something more than once, it has to come true.
So now I'm the hopeful dreamer, dreaming about how I want to be, the places I should be, and the places I want to go.
I zipped up my old jacket, putting on my boots and walking outside, closing and locking the door behind me. I made my way towards my old red car across the wet pavement, my boots squeaking as I did. I let my eyes glance around the drenched area, and I assumed it rained sometime last night, making my car seem even worse. But even though it was crap, it always started up for me.
I slammed my car door shut and placed my key in the ignition, turning it completely sideways. It ran for about a second, then stopped.
"Come on, car." I muttered, turning it again with more force. The engine didn't even start. "Work, God damn it!" I screamed, smacking my head against the freezing cold steering wheel, making the horn honk a couple times. I picked it up, and started rummaging through my purse for anything that might help. I gave up on that and started searching my car, and to tell you the truth, I've never done it before. I had no reason to, I was told it was cleaned out by the people that sold it to me. I opened the glove compartment, and out falls a book with a deep-red leather cover and fancy curved markings all over it.
"What the hell?" I muttered, picking it up and flipping through the old, yellow pages. There was cursive writing all over it, with dates up in the corners. I flipped to the first entry and read the date out loud. "Eighteen sixty-three?" I whispered, flipping some more and a loose paper, stained red, fell onto my lap. I began reading the neat cursive as well as I could.
Dear Whoever finds this,
I'm most likely dead by now. My country is at war with itself, and I'm stuck in Pennsylvania, fighting for the Union as General Grant leads us into battle against the Confederates. I'd like you to find wherever my family may be, and they will be forever in your debt. Last time I heard from them, they were living out in New York, but that was about three months ago. Thank you, my friend. As a soldier of the Union, I am grateful for you.
Soldier Tacker
My mind went blank from all the information. This had to be from the Civil War! What was it doing in my car? The people that sold it to me must've chickened out from it… or they missed it. Or maybe it was my fate to find it, and to fly to… New York? But I remember that last name from somewhere, Tacker… he was a Broadway director! Could he seriously be related to this guy?
My thoughts stopped when I heard the roar of the engine. Finally, the stupid car started! So I placed the book safely on the shotgun seat and drove to work, my thoughts wrapped around the book, the director, and Broadway, where all the musicals happened. After work, my quest would begin.
YOU ARE READING
Writing Randomness
PoetryMy collection of Short Stories/Poetry/school assignments all in one place. I don't know what made me write these, but it happened and I'm glad to be posting on Wattpad. I suddenly found myself liking Short Stories and a little bit of Poetry, mostly...