I don't know how long I have to live. I fashioned is paper book to write in, that way, if I die, I will not be forgotten. I am Armen Nowak, and this is my story.
I'm an only child and live with my mother. We live outside a small town in Poland, where we run a small farm. I'm 16 years old, and I was born February 16, 1332. We grow mainly rye and barley for bread, but we also grow onions, cabbage, and garlic.
Every morning, I wake up a little before dawn to help mother with breakfast, then we go tend to the animals. I help Mother feed them, then carry some containers to her so she can milk the cows. As she does that, I empty our pot of bodily waste into one of two holes outside. One hole, we mix our waste, animal waste, and rotten food, to use as fertilizer for our crops. I then spend hours carrying pots of water from the well to the crops, then back again, watering them, while mother harvests anything that is ready to pick and starts lunch.
Today is a nice day outside, so mother is cooking out here. We discovered a small hole in our roof, so after I eat lunch, I'm going to patch it, then I have to replace the hay in our beds. We planted some mint a few weeks ago, because it helps your stomach process stuff, but it smells really good, so I'm going to put two or three leaves in each bed to make them smell better. I hope mother won't mind.
-Armen Nowak
YOU ARE READING
The Journal of Armen Nowak
Historical FictionI wrote this because in 10th Grade, World History, my teacher assigned a project that was worth a lot of our grade. I think it may have been our 9 Weeks Test. But the assignment was to write a journal from the point of view of someone who was alive...
