Chapter Text
I never would have thought that there existed such a place that could be so bright, and so filled with promise. I suppose, that is why they call it America. America. It is sad, really, the way I say ‘filled with promise’. For what is the promise of existence other than death and the sprawl of destruction? To be more precise, herein lie the potential for human conquest and ravagery, and in that tranquil state before the land’s eventual fate, I shall be happy. To breathe in the air not yet colored with the foul, sour odor of rot left in the streets, for there are not yet streets. A perfect place for me.
Yet, I feel that my heart has been uprooted like the carrot in a garden. I open my eyes when daylight has broken to see the rows of logs which make up the ceiling and remember that I am no longer in Haworth, the place I had been so accustomed to during my lifespan previously.
My father was sent for America on an ‘evangelical tour’ of sorts. Of course, he pleaded with the bishop for us to come along, for I, as well as he, would not know what would have come of our untended activity. I would have kept company with my siblings and the house servants and maids, yes, but my father – he exists within him an importance to me that can be ascribed to the functions of the sun to that of a plant. Undoubtedly, his absence would see my rapid decline.
Still, some things remain the same as it did in Haworth, for I scarcely see a single soul outside of Father, and my dear siblings, scrawling at their compositions as they always do. Except, we are much too of ill monetary health (yes, if that could even be regarded as possible), and now, all the duties of the house, that work that deprives the body of its light, has been delegated to us: I, Charlotte, Anne, and Branwell.
Speaking of those duties of the house, my father’s voice called, those words which will bewitch me and give rise to the dutiful soldier I am– he the commander, I the knight.
“Emily?” His voice traveled clearly from his desk through the hallway.
“Yes papa?” I replied earnestly.
“My heart, will you go to the near river, and fetch us some more water? We have run out in our reserves, and Branwell is splitting firewood now, to prepare for the fire which will cleanse our water,” was Father’s request.
“Yes, and I shall return soon.”
“Be off now!” It sounded harsh, but I understood the smile through his words.