Journal Entry 1 – Descriptive Entry (Act II - Proctor) Diary,
Although I had promised myself to never open and write in this book again, I can’t help but feel that today’s events should be recorded in here so I can set them away from my mind. If the memories are remembered in here, I wouldn’t to hold remember them in my mind.
I had just come back home after a long day of planting and tending the land. I placed my rifle down beside the fireplace as I was welcomed in by the wave of warmth, a distinct contrast from the merciless chill outside. I am constantly reminded to hope for a good summer as my cheeks persistently sting from the bitter winds. The winds had grown and its powers could now take my breath miles away, spear through my coat …show more content…
To my satisfaction, the rabbit soup hasn’t lost much of its spice-laden, herb-kissed suavity. But the unearthly silkiness of the soup was undermined by the lack of sufficient salt, something that Elizabeth had always forgotten. Slightly disappointed, I reached into the ligneous cupboard in search of the jar of salt. My hand felt around the cupboard, afraid to make any noise, journeyed past the deep wood grooves and the dangerously-slippery jars, with little success. When the final verse of the lullaby began, my heart skipped a beat; I knew my temporary warmth left in this room would soon vanish. I tried harder to find the container for salt and the quiet thumps made by the knocked-over containers seemed to amplify as Elizabeth started to reach the end of the song. I paused my search to check on the only lit-room upstairs and the resumed delicate berceuse calmed me to continue the hunt. This time, I found the salt jar almost immediately. I reached my palm into the rough clay jar, which had a little too many pores for my liking, and the finely grated salt fell into place. A few pinches of salt and another sip proved the soup’s enhanced
Although I had promised myself to never open and write in this book again, I can’t help but feel that today’s events should be recorded in here so I can set them away from my mind. If the memories are remembered in here, I wouldn’t to hold remember them in my mind.
I had just come back home after a long day of planting and tending the land. I placed my rifle down beside the fireplace as I was welcomed in by the wave of warmth, a distinct contrast from the merciless chill outside. I am constantly reminded to hope for a good summer as my cheeks persistently sting from the bitter winds. The winds had grown and its powers could now take my breath miles away, spear through my coat …show more content…
To my satisfaction, the rabbit soup hasn’t lost much of its spice-laden, herb-kissed suavity. But the unearthly silkiness of the soup was undermined by the lack of sufficient salt, something that Elizabeth had always forgotten. Slightly disappointed, I reached into the ligneous cupboard in search of the jar of salt. My hand felt around the cupboard, afraid to make any noise, journeyed past the deep wood grooves and the dangerously-slippery jars, with little success. When the final verse of the lullaby began, my heart skipped a beat; I knew my temporary warmth left in this room would soon vanish. I tried harder to find the container for salt and the quiet thumps made by the knocked-over containers seemed to amplify as Elizabeth started to reach the end of the song. I paused my search to check on the only lit-room upstairs and the resumed delicate berceuse calmed me to continue the hunt. This time, I found the salt jar almost immediately. I reached my palm into the rough clay jar, which had a little too many pores for my liking, and the finely grated salt fell into place. A few pinches of salt and another sip proved the soup’s enhanced