Spooy Diary

This narrative involves a story which I must stress is not my own. It is at once sad and joyful and (I am convinced most assuredly) not true. Although…well, I'll leave that for you, the reader, to decide. All that I can say is that there rings some truth to it, as fanciful as it seems to me.

I will start this narrative with a little information about myself. Three years ago, my husband of seven years passed away in the battle against the south. He claimed that his principles had little to do with the decision to fight against the Gray; it was more of a political move on his part. He claimed that since the north seemed to be the stronger force, he simply wanted to be on the winning side. Although he proclaimed not to care whether blacks were kept or freed, I often caught his face draw down with a look of sadness when we passed a black man, woman, or child badly used by their owner. I felt proud of him for that at least.

As I said, it had been three years since his passing and I was left to fend for myself. It would have been even more of a task had I a child to care for as well. A child, I thought wistfully, that Robert and I never had the time or fortune to conceive. I would have gladly taken on that burden. If only I had a charge of my own, a smiling face that looked at me with 'his' eyes, I would have had the drive to live a better life than I do now.

As it stood, I needed a place to stay that I could afford. So it came to pass that I moved into a small abandoned house in Philadelphia. The creditors there were willing to let it go for far less than its worth. After collecting what little I owned, I moved into this house several months ago and was greeted by broken lumber, broken windows and a large dark haired German Shepard sitting on the front porch. Sam, as I later learned was his name, had been left behind by the previous residents of the house.

After a good long cry and a heartless attempt at going through my papers, I resigned myself to my current state and began to clean up. Luckily for me, the war left a need for warm clothing and so, as a seamstress, I was employed before I ever set foot in Pennsylvania. I put my sewing basket and my bag of clothing in the living room and began cleaning. Before long, the house was nearly livable, apart from the broken walls and windows. Over the next few months, it really began to improve.

Why do I tell you this

, you may ask,

and what does it have to do with someone else's story

? It is important to understand the origins of the house because it goes toward explaining the events that followed. You see, two weeks ago, I was renovating the back part of the sitting room and found something that frightened and fascinated me. I was making repairs to a large hole in the wall which I had managed to cover up by strategic placement of a high backed chair when Sam, who I had adopted as my own, entered the room. He actually pointed it out to me first by sticking his nose into the hole, which had been uncovered by the chair. I pulled him back and took a candle to look. I spotted something in the shadows that looked like the spine of a notebook, so I reached in and pulled out a large but slim tome that had been rolled up and apparently placed there some time ago. It revealed that the past tenants were a family of three, the child being a young woman of seventeen. The notebook was actually the young woman's diary and this, in part, is what it said. I've chosen to include only relevant entries.

- Abigail's Diary, begun May of 1858

December of 1860

…We have been in this house for three days now and I cannot see myself becoming very fond of it. We moved immediately after my fiancée left for a dispute down in Virginia. I truly hate the fact that Robert went off to prepare for the war and left me behind. I dreamt about our upcoming marriage but I suspect, by the eagerness he expressed in leaving, that he is not going to return to me either way the fighting goes…

May of 1862

…This infernal war rages on and I have seen casualties already, pouring in from the South. I wonder often where my Robert is and what he is doing. Father was called away to serve in the local militia today and Mother is sick. I think it very unfair that they split up a family like that and left me to fend for the two of us. Thank the Lord I have Sam to talk to or I would go mad…

June of 1862

…The weather is warm but Mother is still ill. She has been bedridden for two weeks now and the doctors are too busy treating the injured to help her. I do not know how her sickness affects animals so I have seen to it that Sam sleeps in my room now. With all the men off to war, and many of the women treating the wounds of the injured men sent home, it is starting to seem that I shall remain friendless and alone until I am too old to attract a husband. I am very lonely…

July of 1862

…I have not heard from Father for a long time. I went out the other day to inquire and nobody has seen him for weeks. God is punishing me! For what, I do not know…

November of 1862

…I am alone in this house now. I have not written for a few months…not since Mother passed away. I have very little food left and the money my father left us is dwindling. Yesterday, I thought I heard footsteps downstairs and when I looked there was nobody there. I think I am starting to go mad…

…I heard someone again today. Why is Sam never around when I imagine I hear footsteps? That dog is the closest thing I have to a family and if I should lose him too, I do not know what I would do…

December of 1861

…I keep having these dreams. Last night, I dreamt again that there was a presence in the room where I slept. When I opened my eyes in my dream, I saw a dark haired man standing at the foot of my bed, watching me. When I finally awoke, of course, he was gone. I am feeling so alone in this house that I do not even fear the ghost that I have dreamt about or even the footsteps that I hear. If the footsteps belong to a person residing in the house with me, I would be grateful for the company. Loneliness is harder to deal with than any misgivings I have about strangers…

…The creditors are hounding me again for payments and I fear that I only have enough for one or two more months. I need food for Sam and I, so I am only left with payment for one month. I need to find better employment. I am volunteering time at the hospital and the little I earn there hardly pays for my midday meal…

…I cannot believe it! I think the specter of my dreams may be real! I have had that same dream on three occasions now. This time, I woke myself up and I thought I saw the curtain over my bedroom door moving. Perhaps it was the wind. I checked the house but found no one but Sam, roaming around in the kitchen…

…Last night, I saw the image again but this time it was different. In this dream, he stepped partially out of the shadow and touched my foot. His touch felt alien. I felt a wave of fear as he touched me but I did not move. His touch was at once light and yet I could feel the power flowing through my leg and washing over me like shivers. At the same time that I felt this unfathomable power I also felt like it was someone I was familiar with, but it was not my father's image or anyone else I knew…

January of 1863

…I cannot get this image out of my mind. I actually fear and look forward to these dreams at the same time. Last night I tried to will myself not to awaken and as I kept my eyes closed, I could almost continue to feel the caress of his hand on my leg and the powerful stirrings it created within me…

…Someone came to the door today. It was probably a collector. Sam started barking so loud and seemed so ferocious that the person turned away. I love Sam, if for nothing else than the protection he provides. He is so loyal…

…How funny that I just wrote about Sam's loyalty. Today he protected me from a doe that must have wandered in through the back door. The poor animal was trapped inside and Sam had to herd her out. Sam was very gentle with the animal despite its panicked state but she must have hurt herself because there was a great hole put in the wall and I found traces of blood there. I spent most of the afternoon cleaning up…

…I feel ashamed of my dreams now and I can hardly write them into my journal although I know nobody would ever read this. My visitor and I have become bolder lately. Although I have dreamt of his embrace and his kisses, I have recently dreamt that I touched him in places I should know nothing about. I imagine him to be quite covered with hair (not nearly as much as Sam, though.) I suppose the feel of petting Sam is comforting and I have imposed this onto my dream phantom as well. He is strong and unrefined. A wild man of nature…

…I have paid the last of the money. I suppose I need to move on now, but to where? With any luck the war is nearly over and the streets will soon be filled with masses of disposed people from the southern states, hoping to find peace up north. At least that is what I hear at the hospital…

January 24

th

, 1863

This, I fear is my final entry. The most remarkable thing has happened to me and I question even now, whether it really occurred.

Last night I slept after staying up for some hours reading by candlelight. It was the kind of deep sleep that produces dreams, and I dreamt.

My dream started out as it usually does. I felt a presence at the foot of the bed. I opened my eyes just enough to see the image as it moved into the moonlight coming in from the window. As far as I could see, he wore no clothes except for a tight leather band about his neck. He caressed my foot and lightly scratched along the top. His hand moved along my ankle, across my kneecap and up under the nightdress I wore. His touch sent shivers up my body and over my breasts. He bent his head down and licked at my nipples, which I must admit had become erect and were poking through the fabric of my nightdress.

I reached out with my hand and felt for him. I touched the thick hair of his leg and slowly caressed upward to the forbidden area. This time, I was surprised to find the size of it had changed. I had touched it before in my dreams and it had always seemed soft and close to his body. His sac was still there, hanging below it, but as my hand searched, it found his very large and very ridged penis, pointing upward. I felt its length and caressed it with my hand as the breeze coming through the window cooled off the wetness that now covered my nipples.

I heard soft growls coming from his throat as his fingers gently parted the flesh between my legs. As before, I became wet at his touch, and I ached for something that I could not know.

All at once, he pushed on my hips and rolled me over. His strong hands grasped my hips and, with a jerk, pulled me up onto all fours. My nightdress was pulled up so that it lay on my back, exposing my most private places to his night eyes. I felt something pushing apart the folds between my thighs, which was not his finger. He slid this thing into me deeply and began poking me over and over. It made noise as it pushed against my wetness. Then I felt pain as it pushed into me, a pain that was intense like something ripping me. Four or five times, he pushed into me and then I felt pleasure, oh the pleasure. My head swirled and it seemed that the world spun. I gripped the bedding to keep from being pushed forward by his pounding. His hands felt strong against my sides and the hair around his penis felt wonderful as it kept bumping into my bottom. I could hear him panting above me, now and again growling a deep throaty growl. The bed rocked. I felt the length of his penis sliding in and out of me while an incredible feeling built inside of me. Only in a dream, could he have gotten the entire length of his penis all the way inside me. His nails were sharp and he scratched me. Still I did not awake at the pain.

I turned my head to look over my shoulder at him but my eyes were blurred and the blood that raced through my veins would not let me think. He leaned over me as his hips pushed his penis in and out of me, faster and faster. I concentrated my stare and, in the darkness and motion of our bodies, I thought I saw something other than my phantom lover. When I blinked my eyes, the strange image was gone and again it was he.

I continued staring into his face. He had a look of urgency and concentration mixed with ecstasy. Sweat ran down his face. Although I was also pushing back, my body was his. Dreamily, I swayed back and forth to the motion of his arms. In my ultimate loneliness, he has been my only companion and my protector! His knees pushed into the bed as he thrust himself into me at a faster pace. My lover knew what he was doing and he took me completely. In my dream I was aware of nothing else other than his hands on my body and his fervent thrusting into me. I turned my head back around and pushed back in time to his thrusts with more vigor. The feeling was indescribable. The violation of my body, the animal passion and lust that clouded my reason made the whole thing scary and exciting. The hair of his loins brushed against my backside and his sac bounced against my thighs as he continued to pump himself into me harder and harder. Then, all of a sudden, he pushed hard and stayed pushed into me. I felt his penis inside of me, pulsing. I felt his seed flow deep inside of me and I was overcome with waves of shuddering pleasure.

Finally, after the orgasm subsided, I fell forward onto my pillow. I rested my shoulders and face on the bed, exhausted. After a while, I began to see that the light in the room was getting brighter. I looked about, puzzled.

Was it the sun coming up?

I thought. As I pondered what the light meant, I fell onto my side with my eyes closed. That is when I felt the weight on the bed shift. I opened my eyes slowly. Slipping quietly out of the doorway was the naked form of my lover. The curtain fell silently into place. I heard soft footsteps and then a low bark in the hall. Just as the dream ended, I imagined that I returned to a deep and sound sleep.

When I awoke that morning, my dream became a nightmare. I do not know how any of this happened, but as I removed my bed sheets I saw my blood, soaked into the bed. It flowed from between my legs during the night and as I got up to run to the washbasin, my legs were weak.

Later in the day as I searched in vain for signs of the stranger in my house, I saw Sam outside, wagging his tail and chasing a butterfly through the trees. Life, it seems, must go on and I should leave this house now but the impossible reality of the dream still remains in my mind. I must find help. The war is not over yet and they are not going to let me stay here. I have got to try something.

End of the journal entries

I find myself looking into shadows around me and I have not gotten much sleep. Having read the journal once again, I no more believe it now than when I read it earlier but I take no chances and make Sam sleep in the yard, for now.