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Aishani Biswas


16th September 1692 My last morning. The sunlight seems warmer and brighter today. The sky bluer. The food was bad as usual. Meredith didn’t touch it. She hardly looked up when they shoved it inside through the flap. Pity. Most of the time, she lies down, staring at the cobwebbed ceiling. She misses her father, even though he’s against her. Her palms were beaten badly yesterday. Mine too, in fact, because I refused to lie. Her are worse. She yelled at them. Had a strange dream yesterday. A man, brown-skinned and black hair had waved at me. He smiled at me and disappeared. I relayed the news to Meredith this morning. She’s knowledgeable and has already read the Bible. Secretly, of course. Women aren’t allowed to read. Her eyes turned wide. Whispered something about ‘Satan’, turned very fearful. Continuously forbidding me to tell anything of the dream to anyone, she…