Glossary: Bruja=Witch, Puta=Whore, Diablo=Devil, Demono=Demon, Alma=Soul, Alcohol=Spirit, Padre=Father, Madre=Mother, Hoji=Son, Black Magic=Magia Negra, Innocent=Inocentes, Children=Ninos, You are a Liar=Usted es un mentiroso, Liar=Mentiroso, God save me=El Dios me ahorra, Help Me= Ayudeme, Joven=Woman, Bujer Joven=Young Woman, Novia=Fiancee, Mierda=Shit!,
Chapter Four
The Diary of Alyse de'Angeles
Leon, Spain
Year of Our Lord 1623
Ashes of the Red Rose
The Spanish Inquisition
June 30, 1623
Papa found out today what Lucas did to me. He was so angry I thought he was going to tear the entire house to pieces. As it was, he broke nearly every single empty pot and glass Mama had stored in the Garden shed. We could hear him out there yelling, cursing, and smashing things for over an hour. I was truly afraid he was going to do something terrible before he was done... I do not know what I thought he might do, but I was still afraid. I have never seen my Papa like that before. His eyes changed color. They actually turned red and looked like burning coals in his face. I have never seen that happen before, and when I tried to talk to him, it was like he could not hear me. He just stormed past me and left the house. I was going to go after him, but Estephan stopped me. He said I needed to leave Papa be for the time being because the mood he was in just then made him very dangerous. Dangerous? I have never thought of my Papa as dangerous, but Mama agreed with Estephan. She said that Papa was so angry at the moment that he was barely in control of himself, and if I went out there trying to talk to him, there was no telling what he might do. I guess that was when I realized that they were not talking only about his temper, but about his Power's too. They were afraid if I went out to talk to him about what had happened with Lucas, He might do something terrible with his magick. I had not thought about that, after all, it was always Papa that kept on about being careful what one said and how it was said, because of the seriousness of the possible consequences the impulsive and uncalculated use of magick could have on the world around us. I had never considered when I silently cursed Lucas, that Papa might want to do something openly. I can see now that the righteous wrath of a Father can be a terrible thing. All I can hope for now is that Lucas just stays away and never comes back, because I am not sure what Papa would do if he actually came face to face with him now that he knows what Lucas did to me.
While Papa was outside in the shed, Mama made me some really nasty smelling tea from tansey petals and a little bit of nightshade, and then made me drink two whole cups of it. It tasted worse than it smelled, and I thought I was going to vomit it back up before I finished drinking it all, but I managed to keep it down. She told me that it will prevent me from getting pregnant in case Lucas caught me at a fertile time within my cycle. I hope she is right. I do not want to find myself carrying a child spawned from that Monster's seed. I think I might could kill myself if that happened.
July 1, 1623
Papa stayed out in the garden shed all night last night and did not come back in the house until well after the Sun had come up. He looked terrible, like he had not slept for weeks. His skin was a horrible grayish color and his eyes were all bloodshot with dark circles under them. The look on his face was horrible as well. He looked like he had spent the night with a thousand ghosts and they had drained him dry of every drop of vitality he had possessed in his body. I am not sure what frightened me more, the way he appeared yesterday when he was so angry, or this look of total despair and futility that came back with him. I do not like seeing my Papa look vulnerable or defeated like he did this morning. It made me feel so sad and guilty, because I know it is my fault, it is because of me and what Lucas did to me.
I wonder, could it be true what Lucas said about women being a curse to men's lives? Did I do something to provoke him into doing what he did that day by the stream? I gone over everything that happened in my head a hundred times, and just can't seem to find an answer for why he did that to me. So, could it be true? Could there somehow be an inate evil inside of woman that does something to a man's soul and makes him behave badly and do immoral unthinkable things that he would not normally even think about? I do not know anymore. I was so sure it was all his fault, but I keep remembering the horrified look on his face when he saw me trying to hold my blouse together. He was looking at me as if I were someone he had never seen before. Like I was a stranger or worse, like I was something terrible that he did not recognize as me. What happened that day? I was so sure I knew, but I am not so sure anymore. Was it my fault? Did I do something bad? Did I tempt him in someway? What did I do wrong? I wish I knew if I could pray to God for the answer and know that he would answer me, but I am not even sure there really is a God. I know I do not trust the God of Lucas's Church, but I am not sure I believe in the God and Goddess that my parents pray to either. I am feeling so lost right now. I wish I knew what to do. If only there were someone I could talk to. If only.
July 13, 1623
Leon Central Square
Inquisition Public Executions
3 petty criminals
2 heritics/blasphemers
4 witches/proven and convicted/confessions
I do not know how it happened, but my family and I were at Market today when the Inquisitor's Wagon-boxes rode by with all those poor people stuffed inside. I could hear them crying and screaming for mercy through the bars in the little windows on the sides of those horrible black boxes the Church hauls their prisoner's around in. The stench of rotting flesh and human waste was overwhelming, and I thought both Mama and I were going to be sick before they were gone. Father and Estephan just stood and watched the wagon-boxes pull away down the road with right angry looks on their faces. I could hear Mama and Papa talking in quiet frightened voices, and I heard Mama say something about there not being a proclaimation posted about any public executions for today. Papa agreed, and was scowling as he put his arms around her. You see, we NEVER come into town when there are executions planned. The crying and screaming and the maliciousness of the torture makes Mama go hysterical. Sometimes for days. I have never seen one. I never really knew anything about them until I started going to Mass with Lucas, but I knew there were executions in the streets. I just never knew how horrible they were, and now we were stuck right in the middle of one.
Watching the reactions of people around us, one would have that the carnival had come to town instead of the executioners wagons. The tone of conversations became excited, faces were flushed with anticipation, and the throng of bodies that moved towards the Central Square infront of the Cathedral was astonishingly enormous. It was like a stampede of mindless cattle with one singular destination in mind and nothing was going to stop them from getting there, including anyone who did not want to go with. We got caught in the middle of that single-minded crowd, and despite Papa and Estephan's best efforts, we all ended up with a perfect view of the long, narrow Execution stage.
There were six tall poles sticking out of the ground off to the right side of the stage, and each one had a large pile of dried wood and kinling at its base. The stage was set up with some sort of cross-shaped altar-table, and I could see what looked like dozens of ropes haning from the tall rafters. A teams of Horses were hitched up and standing ready to the immediate left of the stage. At the time, I had no idea what they were doing there.
What followed next will remain burned into my brain for the rest of my life. It will not matter what I do, I know I will never be able to erase the images that I was forced to watch and the sounds I was forced to listen to.
There were three convicted criminals to be executed first. One was guilty of thievery, one of rape, and the other of murder. Each one in turn was taken up onto the stage and tied hand and foot with ropes. First each hand was tied singly, and then one rope was looped about both feet.
The atrocities that were done to these three men were unspeakable. Each one was hung, though not quite to death, and then wracked. That was when I found out what the Horses were for.
The ropes were somehow attached to the horses, and when the hangman whiped them and they tried to run, they pulled the ropes, and the ropes pulled the man. I could only bare to see one. The first man. He was guilty of murdering his own wife, and had thus been condemned to death by torture. When the horses pulled the ropes taunt, and his body flew up into the air with arms spread wide, I heard him scream in such a way that every nerve and muscle in my body felt like it was going to explode. To his own misfortune, he was a very thin and poorly built man so when the ropes snapped tight, it only took a few short moments before both of his arms were torn completely off his body. Blood was spurting everywhere as he crashed back down to the stage floor screaming and screaming. I suddenly found myself in Estephan's arms and he was pushing my face into his chest trying to hide the horror from my eyes. But it was too late, I had already seen too much. I was screaming and screaming and desperately fighting against him trying to get away so I could run. He knew better than I did that there was nowhere for me to go, so he just held me tighter.
I did not watch the other two men die, but I do know that they lasted longer than the first man because they lived past the wracking. The only way I knew what happened when their broken bodies were placed on the cross-altar was by the horrible ominous chanting of the crowd around me. I could hear the Master Inquisitor asking the man to repent of his sins and take the spirit of The Lord back into his heart. I heard him ask the man to do this three or four times before there was any kind of any answer. The answer the man gave must not have been what the Inquisitor wanted because I heard him shouting the declaration that this man would have to be completely purified because he would not repent on his own. The crowd roared with enthusiasm and began chanting, "rip 'im open, rip 'im open, rip 'im open.". I guess that is exactly what they must have done was rip that poor man open. The sound he made sounded more like something a strangling pig would make than a man. I dropped to my knees and vomited on the ground. I could not help it. I really could not. The other man confessed his sins and repented. I suppose he thought it was a better fate than what awaited him if he did not, and perhaps it was. Estephan told me they chopped off his head. At least when the end came, it came quickly.
But what came next was by far the worst thing I could have ever imagined in my mind.
There were two Heritics condemned to death in the flames because each had committed a crime directly against The Church. One had spoken out against The Pope calling him the son of the Devil, while the other had claimed The Church was filled with sexual molestors and pederast's.
The last four were claimed to be self-confessed witches and servants of the dark powers, but all I could see were four filthy, malnourished; beaten, bruised, and broken women with dead eyes and expressionless faces. That was how The Church had obtained their so-called confessions, through torture and starvation. Now those four woman faced the most horrible death imaginable.
The Master Inquisitor, who thought himself to be a very grand performer, announced in a grandiose flourish that these women had been discovered practicing their blasphemos craft right within the sanctity of their own homes. There was a low rumble of muttering started among the crowd with that statement, but the next one really got them going. He declared that these witches had been practicing their foul magicks in front of their innocent children and polluting the purity of their young minds as well as endangering their immortal holy souls. This sent the crowd into and uproar of monumental proportions. Shouts and screaming cries to "Burn the filthy bitches," rang clear and harsh across the square, while a hundred fists were raised in self-righteous outrage. These people did not care if anything the Master Inquisitor said was true. They did not care that those four woman looked as if they had each been beaten multiple times with God only knew what. Nor did they notice the mangled feet the women were forced to walk on, or the bloodies hands where all their fingernails had been ripped out. I was sobbing and crying without even realizing it. "Do not watch," That is what Estephan kept saying to me, but I couldn't stop myself. I just couldn't.
I watched the executioners force everyone up onto the piles of wood, then tie each of them to a wood pole. The two heritics were shouting curses and spiting at the crowd, but the woman were quiet and solumn. I don't know if I could be that calm. I am afraid if I were one of them, I would be screaming my head off in terror. The fear of the pain of burning would consume me. I know it would.
I turned my face back into Estephan's chest and wrapped my arms around his waist and just held on. I listened to the crowd chanting and screaming for the prisoners legs to be brocken, and I suppose they must have been. The terrible cracking noises and screaming cries could have only been caused by that. It was a horrifying thought. How could they do those things to people who were still alive? The pain must have been astonishing. I cannot imagine it, but it could not compare to the pain experience when the pyres were finally lit.
I could hear Mama screaming and sobbing, and I could hear the people around us cheering and screaming for the flames to burn higher. I tried to cover my ears and block out the sounds, but I could not. I could not stop the horror of death and chaos that was going on around me. I remember looking up into my brothers usually strong and fierce face and finding it streaked with tears and contorted with sorrow, and then my eyes were somehow drawn to the one thing I did not want to see but could not seem to stop myself from looking at.
I looked at the six flaming pyres and saw... I saw the bodies burning inside the flames. I saw clothes flame brightly and disappear, and I saw flesh crisp and peal back like roasted pigs skin does when you throw it in the fire. I could hear terrible screaming... agonized screaming... I could hear the sounds of slow torturous deaths and they seemed to go on and on and on, until I realized I was listening to my own voice screaming in such hysterical grief, that I could hear nothing else.
The next thing I remember, we were home again and I was safe in my bed. For a moment I wondered if it had all been a bad dream, but deep inside my soul I knew it was not. It was real. It had happened, and I had watched it happen. Papa was right. I cannot ever tell anyone about the things that go on inside our house. No one would understand. No one would leave us alone if they knew. And somehow, we would end up tied to one of those flaming pyres screaming out in agony as the fire consumed our flesh.
I have to stay away from Lucas. No matter what happens, I have to stay away from Lucas.
July 16, 1623
Mama has been sick for three days now. Ever since we got trapped in the Cathedral Square during those horrible executions, she has just not been herself. She has not been able to even get out of bed. Papa even had to carry her home that day. I do not understand what is wrong with her. I do not understand why she cannot get up. I know what happened upset her, but it upset me as well and I am up and trying to function. What has happened to Mama that she cannot even get out of her bed? She refuses to eat anything, and will only drink the tea's that Papa and Estephan brew for her.
All she does is lay on her back and stare at the ceiling in her room. I am afraid Mama is going mad, and I do not know how to help her.
July 18, 1632
Estephan pulled me into the basement today and told me something I was not supposed to know. He told me that Papa did not want me to know the truth about why Mama is not getting any better, but He thought I had a right to know. It made me afraid the way he said that, like it was a terrible secret or something, but I could not have imagined anything worse than the real truth.
One of the women who we saw burned was Mama's sister. I did not even know Mama had any sisters. The only Aunt's I knew Estephan and I had were on Papa's side of the family. I never knew Mama had any family at all. She has never once spoken of any of them. No brothers, no sisters, no one. I had assumed that her family was all dead.
I guess they are... Now.
Chapter Four
The Diary of Alyse de'Angeles
Leon, Spain
Year of Our Lord 1623
Ashes of the Red Rose
The Spanish Inquisition
June 30, 1623
Papa found out today what Lucas did to me. He was so angry I thought he was going to tear the entire house to pieces. As it was, he broke nearly every single empty pot and glass Mama had stored in the Garden shed. We could hear him out there yelling, cursing, and smashing things for over an hour. I was truly afraid he was going to do something terrible before he was done... I do not know what I thought he might do, but I was still afraid. I have never seen my Papa like that before. His eyes changed color. They actually turned red and looked like burning coals in his face. I have never seen that happen before, and when I tried to talk to him, it was like he could not hear me. He just stormed past me and left the house. I was going to go after him, but Estephan stopped me. He said I needed to leave Papa be for the time being because the mood he was in just then made him very dangerous. Dangerous? I have never thought of my Papa as dangerous, but Mama agreed with Estephan. She said that Papa was so angry at the moment that he was barely in control of himself, and if I went out there trying to talk to him, there was no telling what he might do. I guess that was when I realized that they were not talking only about his temper, but about his Power's too. They were afraid if I went out to talk to him about what had happened with Lucas, He might do something terrible with his magick. I had not thought about that, after all, it was always Papa that kept on about being careful what one said and how it was said, because of the seriousness of the possible consequences the impulsive and uncalculated use of magick could have on the world around us. I had never considered when I silently cursed Lucas, that Papa might want to do something openly. I can see now that the righteous wrath of a Father can be a terrible thing. All I can hope for now is that Lucas just stays away and never comes back, because I am not sure what Papa would do if he actually came face to face with him now that he knows what Lucas did to me.
While Papa was outside in the shed, Mama made me some really nasty smelling tea from tansey petals and a little bit of nightshade, and then made me drink two whole cups of it. It tasted worse than it smelled, and I thought I was going to vomit it back up before I finished drinking it all, but I managed to keep it down. She told me that it will prevent me from getting pregnant in case Lucas caught me at a fertile time within my cycle. I hope she is right. I do not want to find myself carrying a child spawned from that Monster's seed. I think I might could kill myself if that happened.
July 1, 1623
Papa stayed out in the garden shed all night last night and did not come back in the house until well after the Sun had come up. He looked terrible, like he had not slept for weeks. His skin was a horrible grayish color and his eyes were all bloodshot with dark circles under them. The look on his face was horrible as well. He looked like he had spent the night with a thousand ghosts and they had drained him dry of every drop of vitality he had possessed in his body. I am not sure what frightened me more, the way he appeared yesterday when he was so angry, or this look of total despair and futility that came back with him. I do not like seeing my Papa look vulnerable or defeated like he did this morning. It made me feel so sad and guilty, because I know it is my fault, it is because of me and what Lucas did to me.
I wonder, could it be true what Lucas said about women being a curse to men's lives? Did I do something to provoke him into doing what he did that day by the stream? I gone over everything that happened in my head a hundred times, and just can't seem to find an answer for why he did that to me. So, could it be true? Could there somehow be an inate evil inside of woman that does something to a man's soul and makes him behave badly and do immoral unthinkable things that he would not normally even think about? I do not know anymore. I was so sure it was all his fault, but I keep remembering the horrified look on his face when he saw me trying to hold my blouse together. He was looking at me as if I were someone he had never seen before. Like I was a stranger or worse, like I was something terrible that he did not recognize as me. What happened that day? I was so sure I knew, but I am not so sure anymore. Was it my fault? Did I do something bad? Did I tempt him in someway? What did I do wrong? I wish I knew if I could pray to God for the answer and know that he would answer me, but I am not even sure there really is a God. I know I do not trust the God of Lucas's Church, but I am not sure I believe in the God and Goddess that my parents pray to either. I am feeling so lost right now. I wish I knew what to do. If only there were someone I could talk to. If only.
July 13, 1623
Leon Central Square
Inquisition Public Executions
3 petty criminals
2 heritics/blasphemers
4 witches/proven and convicted/confessions
I do not know how it happened, but my family and I were at Market today when the Inquisitor's Wagon-boxes rode by with all those poor people stuffed inside. I could hear them crying and screaming for mercy through the bars in the little windows on the sides of those horrible black boxes the Church hauls their prisoner's around in. The stench of rotting flesh and human waste was overwhelming, and I thought both Mama and I were going to be sick before they were gone. Father and Estephan just stood and watched the wagon-boxes pull away down the road with right angry looks on their faces. I could hear Mama and Papa talking in quiet frightened voices, and I heard Mama say something about there not being a proclaimation posted about any public executions for today. Papa agreed, and was scowling as he put his arms around her. You see, we NEVER come into town when there are executions planned. The crying and screaming and the maliciousness of the torture makes Mama go hysterical. Sometimes for days. I have never seen one. I never really knew anything about them until I started going to Mass with Lucas, but I knew there were executions in the streets. I just never knew how horrible they were, and now we were stuck right in the middle of one.
Watching the reactions of people around us, one would have that the carnival had come to town instead of the executioners wagons. The tone of conversations became excited, faces were flushed with anticipation, and the throng of bodies that moved towards the Central Square infront of the Cathedral was astonishingly enormous. It was like a stampede of mindless cattle with one singular destination in mind and nothing was going to stop them from getting there, including anyone who did not want to go with. We got caught in the middle of that single-minded crowd, and despite Papa and Estephan's best efforts, we all ended up with a perfect view of the long, narrow Execution stage.
There were six tall poles sticking out of the ground off to the right side of the stage, and each one had a large pile of dried wood and kinling at its base. The stage was set up with some sort of cross-shaped altar-table, and I could see what looked like dozens of ropes haning from the tall rafters. A teams of Horses were hitched up and standing ready to the immediate left of the stage. At the time, I had no idea what they were doing there.
What followed next will remain burned into my brain for the rest of my life. It will not matter what I do, I know I will never be able to erase the images that I was forced to watch and the sounds I was forced to listen to.
There were three convicted criminals to be executed first. One was guilty of thievery, one of rape, and the other of murder. Each one in turn was taken up onto the stage and tied hand and foot with ropes. First each hand was tied singly, and then one rope was looped about both feet.
The atrocities that were done to these three men were unspeakable. Each one was hung, though not quite to death, and then wracked. That was when I found out what the Horses were for.
The ropes were somehow attached to the horses, and when the hangman whiped them and they tried to run, they pulled the ropes, and the ropes pulled the man. I could only bare to see one. The first man. He was guilty of murdering his own wife, and had thus been condemned to death by torture. When the horses pulled the ropes taunt, and his body flew up into the air with arms spread wide, I heard him scream in such a way that every nerve and muscle in my body felt like it was going to explode. To his own misfortune, he was a very thin and poorly built man so when the ropes snapped tight, it only took a few short moments before both of his arms were torn completely off his body. Blood was spurting everywhere as he crashed back down to the stage floor screaming and screaming. I suddenly found myself in Estephan's arms and he was pushing my face into his chest trying to hide the horror from my eyes. But it was too late, I had already seen too much. I was screaming and screaming and desperately fighting against him trying to get away so I could run. He knew better than I did that there was nowhere for me to go, so he just held me tighter.
I did not watch the other two men die, but I do know that they lasted longer than the first man because they lived past the wracking. The only way I knew what happened when their broken bodies were placed on the cross-altar was by the horrible ominous chanting of the crowd around me. I could hear the Master Inquisitor asking the man to repent of his sins and take the spirit of The Lord back into his heart. I heard him ask the man to do this three or four times before there was any kind of any answer. The answer the man gave must not have been what the Inquisitor wanted because I heard him shouting the declaration that this man would have to be completely purified because he would not repent on his own. The crowd roared with enthusiasm and began chanting, "rip 'im open, rip 'im open, rip 'im open.". I guess that is exactly what they must have done was rip that poor man open. The sound he made sounded more like something a strangling pig would make than a man. I dropped to my knees and vomited on the ground. I could not help it. I really could not. The other man confessed his sins and repented. I suppose he thought it was a better fate than what awaited him if he did not, and perhaps it was. Estephan told me they chopped off his head. At least when the end came, it came quickly.
But what came next was by far the worst thing I could have ever imagined in my mind.
There were two Heritics condemned to death in the flames because each had committed a crime directly against The Church. One had spoken out against The Pope calling him the son of the Devil, while the other had claimed The Church was filled with sexual molestors and pederast's.
The last four were claimed to be self-confessed witches and servants of the dark powers, but all I could see were four filthy, malnourished; beaten, bruised, and broken women with dead eyes and expressionless faces. That was how The Church had obtained their so-called confessions, through torture and starvation. Now those four woman faced the most horrible death imaginable.
The Master Inquisitor, who thought himself to be a very grand performer, announced in a grandiose flourish that these women had been discovered practicing their blasphemos craft right within the sanctity of their own homes. There was a low rumble of muttering started among the crowd with that statement, but the next one really got them going. He declared that these witches had been practicing their foul magicks in front of their innocent children and polluting the purity of their young minds as well as endangering their immortal holy souls. This sent the crowd into and uproar of monumental proportions. Shouts and screaming cries to "Burn the filthy bitches," rang clear and harsh across the square, while a hundred fists were raised in self-righteous outrage. These people did not care if anything the Master Inquisitor said was true. They did not care that those four woman looked as if they had each been beaten multiple times with God only knew what. Nor did they notice the mangled feet the women were forced to walk on, or the bloodies hands where all their fingernails had been ripped out. I was sobbing and crying without even realizing it. "Do not watch," That is what Estephan kept saying to me, but I couldn't stop myself. I just couldn't.
I watched the executioners force everyone up onto the piles of wood, then tie each of them to a wood pole. The two heritics were shouting curses and spiting at the crowd, but the woman were quiet and solumn. I don't know if I could be that calm. I am afraid if I were one of them, I would be screaming my head off in terror. The fear of the pain of burning would consume me. I know it would.
I turned my face back into Estephan's chest and wrapped my arms around his waist and just held on. I listened to the crowd chanting and screaming for the prisoners legs to be brocken, and I suppose they must have been. The terrible cracking noises and screaming cries could have only been caused by that. It was a horrifying thought. How could they do those things to people who were still alive? The pain must have been astonishing. I cannot imagine it, but it could not compare to the pain experience when the pyres were finally lit.
I could hear Mama screaming and sobbing, and I could hear the people around us cheering and screaming for the flames to burn higher. I tried to cover my ears and block out the sounds, but I could not. I could not stop the horror of death and chaos that was going on around me. I remember looking up into my brothers usually strong and fierce face and finding it streaked with tears and contorted with sorrow, and then my eyes were somehow drawn to the one thing I did not want to see but could not seem to stop myself from looking at.
I looked at the six flaming pyres and saw... I saw the bodies burning inside the flames. I saw clothes flame brightly and disappear, and I saw flesh crisp and peal back like roasted pigs skin does when you throw it in the fire. I could hear terrible screaming... agonized screaming... I could hear the sounds of slow torturous deaths and they seemed to go on and on and on, until I realized I was listening to my own voice screaming in such hysterical grief, that I could hear nothing else.
The next thing I remember, we were home again and I was safe in my bed. For a moment I wondered if it had all been a bad dream, but deep inside my soul I knew it was not. It was real. It had happened, and I had watched it happen. Papa was right. I cannot ever tell anyone about the things that go on inside our house. No one would understand. No one would leave us alone if they knew. And somehow, we would end up tied to one of those flaming pyres screaming out in agony as the fire consumed our flesh.
I have to stay away from Lucas. No matter what happens, I have to stay away from Lucas.
July 16, 1623
Mama has been sick for three days now. Ever since we got trapped in the Cathedral Square during those horrible executions, she has just not been herself. She has not been able to even get out of bed. Papa even had to carry her home that day. I do not understand what is wrong with her. I do not understand why she cannot get up. I know what happened upset her, but it upset me as well and I am up and trying to function. What has happened to Mama that she cannot even get out of her bed? She refuses to eat anything, and will only drink the tea's that Papa and Estephan brew for her.
All she does is lay on her back and stare at the ceiling in her room. I am afraid Mama is going mad, and I do not know how to help her.
July 18, 1632
Estephan pulled me into the basement today and told me something I was not supposed to know. He told me that Papa did not want me to know the truth about why Mama is not getting any better, but He thought I had a right to know. It made me afraid the way he said that, like it was a terrible secret or something, but I could not have imagined anything worse than the real truth.
One of the women who we saw burned was Mama's sister. I did not even know Mama had any sisters. The only Aunt's I knew Estephan and I had were on Papa's side of the family. I never knew Mama had any family at all. She has never once spoken of any of them. No brothers, no sisters, no one. I had assumed that her family was all dead.
I guess they are... Now.