1600 Diary

Day 1:

The sky rained heavily onto me in the cold sloppy mud. The door in front of me was made of wood but was drenched in the torrential rain.

I stood to my feet and looked around to see women in canvas gowns running pass trying to run out of the rain. No lights shone on the streets; only wooden houses slick with water were in my view. I looked down at my skinny jeans to see the damage of my fall into the mud. My clothing was drenched and filthy.

I ran out of the rain; I needed to figure out where I was. The mud in the streets was thick and cold; my black converse sneakers were brown with mud and felt as heavy as bricks.

The space between two of the houses seemed ideal for cover. It was dark alley lined by the dark wooden houses. Violent shivers seemed to grow evermore apparent the colder and wetter I became.

“You don’t look like you’re from around ‘ere.”

I jumped around to see a small frail girl. She had chestnut hair and mud on her face. I knew that if I had any chance of understanding where I was I needed to ask someone soon.

“If I may, where am I?”

Her eyebrow raised, I knew she thought I was a drunk or an idiot. “You definitely are not from around here. England, ma’am.”

This didn’t seem like a surprise to me; I’d always dreamed of coming here so I must have bumped my head and I’m imagining all this now. What still was confusing to me was the primitive housing and clothing she was wearing. So far I had figured out where I was but when I was something that I still needed to ask.

“Who is currently reigning here?”

“Excuse me?” Her face was confused and I knew she was educated; this somewhat narrowed down where I was.

“Is there a king or a queen and what is there name?”

“Oh. Queen Elizabeth I, she is old but a mighty queen no matter.” She had a sweet voice and seemed to have a chipper attitude. Her teeth where less than in satisfactory condition which than again did validate her answer.

“The year?”

“It’s 1600, ma’am.”

“Oh god. Oh god. Jesus Christ!”

“Ma’am, if you’re heard speaking like that the church will have your head.”

“I shouldn’t be here. I really shouldn’t be here.”

The girl seemed weirded out but she still managed to calm me down. She told me her name was Catherine and she would bring me to her home. Her home was wooden, dark and slick with rain just like all the others.

Her father was a rather large man; balding and heavy. His stern face said of what a working man would portray. Catherine told me to wait by the entrance while she spoke to her father. He grunted many times during their conversation. He agreed and said that only for this week until I find other housing.

Catherine showed me to a small room with a bed. I thanked her for everything and sat on my bed as she left. With no light to turn out before I slept the room was pitch black. I cried for what seemed like hours. The darkness seemed to envelop me as my eyes grew tired and I slept.