The Diary In The Attic (Part 2)

[Timl1980]

Part 2: The Whisper of Prophecy

 

Anna turned the page, not knowing the words would change everything.

 

The attic was quiet except for the occasional groan of the rafters. Anna sat with her back against a stack of boxes, the diary open across her knees. The dust had settled into her hair, but she didn’t care. She had forgotten the broom, forgotten the chore. The world outside the pages no longer mattered.

 

She turned to the next entry.

 

October 12, 1912 Dearest Diary,

 

Brother Williams visited from Pittsburgh today. He spoke with such conviction about the “seven times” of Daniel. He showed us how the Gentile Times will end in 1914. He said the world may not understand, but we must be ready. I confess, I feel both excitement and unease. The world seems so calm...how could it all change so suddenly?

 

The attic seemed to fade. The smell of cedar and dust gave way to the sharp tang of coal smoke. The flicker of her bulb blurred into the glow of a stove in the corner. Anna could almost feel the hard wooden bench beneath her, hear the shuffle of hymnbooks and the murmur of voices leaning forward to listen.

 

She wasn’t just reading anymore...she was in the schoolhouse.

 

At the front stood Brother Williams, his voice steady, his hand resting on the open Bible.

 

“Brethren,” he said, “the Gentile Times draw to their close. The year 1914 is not far off. The Scriptures assure us of this. The kingdoms of this world will not stand forever.”

 

A ripple of unease moved through the room. Some nodded, their faces alight with anticipation. Others shifted, as though the words were too heavy to carry.

 

Anna Müller...seventeen, her diary tucked discreetly in her lap...scribbled notes between lines of scripture. Her heart pounded. She could feel it: something was coming.

 

The lamplight dimmed, and the attic returned. Anna Fischer blinked, her breath quickening. She closed the diary slowly, her fingers trembling.

 

“You knew,” she whispered to the faded initials on the cover. “You saw it coming.”

 

From downstairs, her mother’s voice rose again: “Anna! Supper is just about ready. And don’t think I’ve forgotten about that attic!”

 

Anna smiled faintly, but her heart was still racing. She pressed the diary against her chest, as though it might steady her.

 

She knew she should put it away, but she couldn’t.

 

She had to know what happened next.

 

Her fingers turned the page. The next entry began:

 

July 28, 1914. War has broken out in Europe. The newspapers shout it from every corner. The world we knew is gone.

 

Anna’s breath caught. She snapped the diary shut, her pulse quickening.

 

The storm had begun.

 

From downstairs, her mother’s voice called again, sharper this time: “Anna! Supper’s on the table!”

 

Anna hesitated, then slipped the diary under her arm. She couldn’t leave it behind now. With one last glance at the attic shadows, she carried it carefully down the stairs.