Tuesday, September 1, 2015

from the scattered notes of Bertram Harrold again

[see yesterday's for the beginning.]

“…Saving that she wrote to her diary in a uniquely epistolary fashion, far beyond the convention of ‘Dear Diary.’

Young Ms. Bennet asked it questions, for one thing, and seemed to regard them as answered the day after. Why she even made frequent requests to be kept in the book’s nightly prayers!

Conspicuously absent were any references to actual friends. It was difficult to reconcile the gregarious Mrs. Dolores Brinkley against the quiet, demurring character of young Ms. Dolores Bennet.

Mostly she wrote of stolen moments; monotony quelled by observations of tadpoles, beetles, and small lizards. A childhood, it seemed, much like my own. A speck more isolated, perhaps, but much like my own

Until Whispering Embers slid like oily smoke into Ms. Bennet’s strange new world…”

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