Hello, readers! What you have here is a diary of a young girl, kind of like the Dear Americas. "Surrounded by Death and Destruction: The 1900 Galveston Hurricane Diary of Emelise Carson."

Shortly after the Carson family moves to the bustling town of Galveston, Texas, Emelise discovers her oldest brother is planning to run away and return to their former home in Arkansas. Emelise attempts to tell her parents when he is leaving, but before she has the chance to do so, they depart for the night, leaving Emelise in charge of her three siblings during a thunderstorm. However, little do the citizens of Galveston know, that thunderstorm quickly turns into one of the worst US Historical Disasters—The Galveston Hurricane. Trapped in their house as the water rises, Emelise and her brothers struggle to survive. Through the pages of her diary, Emelise describes how she desperately tries to keep her brothers alive while searching for her missing parents, all the while bearing the pain and sorrow of being surrounded by death and destruction.

There are plenty more chapters to add to the story, and this novel is even self-published and available for purchase on Amazon.

I would love to hear what you guys have to say about my novel. Please comment and share! Enjoy!

Friday, August 24, 1900

A blank book filled with wonderful, cream-colored pages, just waiting for me to write down every single thought I will ever have. And to think I was going to wander about in town, ignoring my mother's order to clean the attic! What would have become of this new diary then?

Let me start over. Mother insisted I clean the filthy attic today and make it "just as clean as the rest of the house is going to be."

"The attic?" I wailed. "Why can't Anthony do it?"

"Anthony is tending to his rabbits while you are just standing there. Go."

Only then out of the corner of my eye did I see Papa walking down the street, the right side of his body falling with each stride because of his limping. His head turned left and right, I could see, as he took in his surroundings. He was going to town! For the first time since being here for three days, Papa was going to walk around town—without me!

I thought to sneak out the backdoor, but Mother read my mind and declared, "If you even think of going with your father to walk around Galveston, you will have no supper tonight, young lady!"

I wanted to say back, "So? It's only one meal," but decided against it. I stomped up the stairs to the attic, only to walk into a spider web first thing. But if I hadn't walked into that spider web, I never would have sat down on the wooden crate and caught a glance of this little, brown book peeking out from under the bureau.

Wait, I hear Mother coming up the stairs, calling, "Emelise! Emelise! Are you cleaning the attic?"

I must hurry and hide this diary.

Five minutes later...

Note to self: never show a mother your diary.

Mother opened the door as soon as I closed this book. She set her hands on her hips like she always does and said, "What is that?"

"My diary. I found it."

"Let me see."

I reluctantly handed it to her, and she glanced through the first page, her eyes moving back and forth with each line she read.

"Tsk, tsk."

"What?" I thought she was going to grow angry with my writing about her.

"Really, Emelise, you shouldn't fiddle with unnecessary trifles." Her delicate hands gestured in the air, as if she were mute and needed to use her hands to speak just as she needed to use her mouth. I didn't pay much attention to my mother's lecture, but watched her as she rattled on about me being too old for diaries. Her hair was still neat and in order, despite the constant work the family has been doing since the move. I think I even spotted some rouge rubbed into her face. Strange, I thought. Mother never wears blush unless going somewhere. But, as she always says, "We need to look our best and impress people here." I wonder how smoothing red blush on our cheeks can increase our popularity and ability to earn friends.

Mother had stopped speaking, and her silky-smooth fingers were fiddling with the blue diamond necklace. She expected me answer.

"How is it childish?" I blurted out, hoping that question made sense to what she had been saying. "It's writing, and writing increases my penmanship."

Of course, Mother never answered me and just tossed the book back in my lap and walked down the stairs, calling, "Hurry and clean the attic! I have more for you to do." My thoughts? I don't think she had an answer.

Now I have to clean the attic. Ugh. There are spider webs in every corner, near every rafter. I can't even walk without the dreadful awareness of having traipsed through another one. Not to mention how many boxes litter the area. Some are stacked on top of each other and they soar higher than I am tall. And the dust. Goodness, do I hate dust. It must be two inches thick in some areas. When I saw this diary under the bureau I closed my eyes and pretended to touch something else, but I am pretty darn sure a spider had scurried across my hand. Or maybe it was a mouse. Nevertheless, this place is a mess, and it is going to take forever to clean it up. I don't even know why Mother has me do this; no one dines in the attic.

Oh, no. I hear her coming up the stairs again. I need to put this diary away and try to make it look like I am making progress.