My name is Lydia Duprée. I spent much of yesterday crying. I thought I was stronger than that. I am Chairman of the Board of Pierson/Duprée Publishing. I feel defeated. I feel sorry for myself. I feel sad and alone. I will write again, but not today.
Entry 4 – Day 7
My name is Lydia Duprée. I couldn’t write yesterday. I couldn’t find the strength. By the calendar on the wall I’ve been here 7 days now.
The house I call my home, Willow Ridge, is still my prison. It snowed again last night. The sliver of sunshine, or gray sky, that I could see through the uncovered glass is now completely covered.
I have not seen the person I presume to be my captor since the night the closing door woke me. There are still clean clothes and there is still food and water.
I struggle with my thoughts and my fears. I haven't been down to this part of Willow Ridge in years. There was never a reason. I keep hoping that my family is searching for me. I pray that they never give up. Alas, I also realize that it's been so long since I've been down here that I stopped talking about the many hidden rooms and corridors. I doubt my son, Oliver, remembers they exist and my grandchildren have more than likely never heard of them.
It's difficult for me to keep positive about being found. I worry that an empty coffin will be placed in the ground underneath a head stone that reads my name.
©2011 Michael Rohrer
No comments:
Post a Comment