Just Another Day

Just Another Day: A Personal Journey through the English Renaissance

By Khadejah Mohiuddin

Dear Diary,

It seems to have been past midnight, but I still could not sleep. I was feeling such sickness as if I was going to vomit out my insides. It’s been days like this and heavy sleepless nights. I keep hiding the truth from myself for the reason this is occurring. I mean I am the daughter of a noble and loyal Christian. I would be exiled from my community because of my misdemeanor. Emotionally in shambles, I lay there on the floor stroking my velvet nightgown and playing with the patterns to stray away from the fact I may be with child.

I went out of my way to fall in love so young with someone so far away from me right now. I was not allowed to marry such a commoner; he’s a peasant compared to my family. Only in my heart does he have the highest status in the region. He was bright, yet so naïve that when he blinked ever so gently, one could see the childishness in him. As I watched the sun slowly peeking from the horizon into the deep sky, I wondered how my life would change so much. I went to go to sleep just for a little while, however, my maiden rushed in trying to get me ready for my daily meal with the nearby noblewomen. Sucking me into my sufferable corset, I thought to myself how would this child breathe if I could not. I snuck out wearing a more loose lavender silk gown given to me before my mother passed. I arrived at the gathering and stuffed myself with a bunch of sweet tarts as my hunger seemed to have increased two tons more. I admired the little desserts as they had perfect coordination of fruit surrounding each with a savoring flavor. I listened to the other ladies laugh at the most dumbfounded scenarios. They seemed so gullible and spoiled to me that I could never last too long at these events.

I left to see my lover in the maze of flowers in some noblemen’s house garden. He smiled and held my small face in his hand and brushed my cheek with his thumb. He assured me that we would run away and get married and have our beautiful child. While he hugged me with such warmth, he whispered in my ear that we would board a ship to some region tonight. I nodded my buried face in his chest and said my farewells for now to him with one last kiss. Dusk had approached, and I prepared everything for our journey to a new life. Suddenly, I noticed something odd, a few guests arrived at my house unannounced with my father. I watched them come in through our grand garden charismatically. Ten minutes later my father rushed in saying he needs me downstairs right now.

“Father, I feel unwell and weary to be able to entertain guests,” I wallowed.

“That man down there is a Duke and he offered to take your hand in marriage; that is your future awaiting you Isabel,” he screamed pointing down the staircase.

“Father, I am merely a child; I wish to explore life more before settling down,” I shouted back with my quivering voice.

Our little argument lasted about fifteen minutes with him storming out the room with bright red apple-like cheeks. I realized I was running late to meet my love, so I hurried down the back staircase in my room. When I arrived there I saw him waiting beside the ship with a delicate smile and his thin, soft hair blowing in the wind. I of course ran into his arms and found peace within his touch. He took my bags and sat me down with everything in the ship and ran back to get the last of our things. While I was sitting I could see a figure like my father running towards the ship with someone as charming as the duke. Frantically running with his firearm, He shot the love of my life, my everything. I watched the puddle of blood turning into a river, not being able to move. I felt as though I was paralyzed and died inside just like his soul. My father ordered me to come down the ship immediately, but I just looked up at him in tears, and let the ship drift away from the body of the sweetest man that was alive and the cruel man my father has become just for the lust of money. I now sat here holding my womb writing my pain away in ink. For writing was the only part of me that hasn’t died yet; it was really the only way I could cope ever, even as a child.

I looked towards the open sea one more time blowing a kiss in the direction we came from to the loving man whose soul lingers miles away as his child kicked in my womb.

~Isabel