A Story Ria is Working On...

"Katrina please get off the computer... we really are going now!"

"Hang on just a sec..."

Signing off of her online chat Katrina reluctantly closed one program after another, hit the power, stood up, grabbed purse, sweatshirt and clogs and joined her mom and little sister in the car.

"How long do we have to stay at Grandma's this time?" Asked Katrina dolefully

"Oh, a couple of hours... you'll survive for that long I think."

Katrina sighed inwardly, a hundred and eighty minutes of sitting in a quiet room listening to Grandma's quiet voice... well at least I'm going out with Carly after this she thought. She pulled her iPOD out of her purse turned it on loud and drifted off into a surreal world of daydreams and music. A quarter of an hour later Katrina was brought back to reality by the an end in the engine's rumbling. Relcutantly, she turned off her iPOD and pulled herself back into reality and into the house.

She stepped into the house and automatically walked and even breathed more softly. Slipping off her clogs she grabbed her sisters hand off of a dusty picture frame, from which two teenaged girls with floppy hats and exquisite dresses laughed unnoticed in sunshine of long ago. A short walk up a worn and brocaded carpet brought the girls into a dimly lit parlour in which sat an elderly woman. She was dressed in a gown of cream color and appeared to be reading. But at the first sound of the girl's soft footsteps she turned and said with a hint of Britain in her voice

"Good morning Katrina Elise, and you Rachel Marie. How are you this fine morning."

"Very well Grandmother, Thank you." said Katrina

"And welcome Marta" said Grandmother adressing the figure of Katrina's mother standing in the doorway.

Katrina and Rachel kissed their Grandmother, Katrina gently, Rachel affectionately, and took their places on the high backed sofa.

"Katrina, my old friend from England has recently sent me the old trunk of my dear sister Paula, God rest her soul. It is now in the garret, you may go look if you like."

"Thank you Grandmother." said Katrina. How incredibly boring she thought but I can listen to my iPOD up there if nothing else.

She grabbed her purse from the hall and climbed an old ladder in the back of the kitchen. Her mind on other things, she entered the attic.

Catching her breath, Katrina immeadiatly brought her mind back to reality. The attic was unlike everything Katrina was used to. Her life of laptops, iPODs, cellphones, schooldesks, lockers, TVs... all faded for the present in a new world. A carved set of drawers here, an elaborate mirror there. Trunks elaborately carved and beautifully painted in dozens of different ways, lovely gowns in all colors of the rainbow, now slightly faded, on antique mannequins with incredibly large and floppy hats to go with them, shelves of dusty books, heaps of embroidered cushions, black and white photographs in rusty frames, knobbly chairs and intricate paintings stood and hung everywhere. The whole was bathed in a light, softened by cream coloured lace curtains. Katrina was entranced. Finding a gown, apparently forgotten thrown upon a trunk, she picked it up thoughtfully. It had a long full skirt, was made of a deep purple silk. Pulling off her jacket she slipped into the gown, finding it fit her to near perfection. Her eye fell upon a wrap of lace and a large hat of the same shade lying near and donned them carefully. Feeling a little strange, but none the less, very elegant, she swept over to a nearby mirror. The effect was charming. Pleased, Katrina began to walk about the room, enjoying the feeling of the skirt as it swept around her. Although she did not know it, she looked very like a girl in a certain picture downstairs.

As she continued her promenade about the room, her eye fell on a small tastefully carved trunk. On the lid, embelished with a few vines lay the name PAULINE. In her present mood, she felt rather inclined to explore it, so she did. Her fingers softly brushed the name, then carefully opened the lid. A fragrant smell met her nostrils, and her eyes wandered amid the contents of the trunk. Pale rose silk and bits of lace surrounded a collection of rather commonplace items. A number of black and white photos, a crude sketch of a small woman, with a strong man behind her, with a tiny baby in her arms, with the initials GKC in the corner. She saw a number of neat handkerchiefs embroidered with the initials PB, many books with titles like Orthodoxy, The Ballad of the White Horse, Manalive and The Everlasting Man and in the center a small, worn book that seemed to be a journal. Katrina carefully opened the last and read these words:
October 31st 1926 To whoever may read this journal in times to come, My name in Pauline Brown and in this year of 1926 I am sixteen years old. I have never been one much for writing, and especially not for journaling, so you may be wondering about the thing which you hold in your hands. It is indeed a journal, although I can not say yet whether it is a very used one, and the reason I am actually writing in it is this. My parents have, of neccesity, planned and shall shortly depart on a journey.The exact destination and purpose of this journey have eluded my comprehension (I may say also my interest), but I believe it has something to do with lecturing in the states. Anyways, in their absence my parents have arranged for me to stay with a couple, I believe their name is Chesterton. Now this in itself is not strange, but the fact that I, and my parents are athiests, make the fact of these peoples Catholicism, rather curious. Upon consulting my father I learned that he is a very respected journalist and author. And my father said that as long as I don't allow his religion to influence me to much, an aquaintance with him may be a very useful and informative experience. And so it is that I am starting this journal. For while the experiences may be strange, they may also be, at the least, amusing. So for my future enjoyment and that of any potential interested parties, I propose the commencement of this journal. Tomorrow I shall take up my residence with the previously mentioned couple, and so, it is tomorrow that my journal actually starts.

Puzzled, Katrina stopped. On the whole it seemed quite unsurprising, yet there was one phrase: my parent and I are atheists that bewildered her. Grandma is Catholic... this is her sister. Why on earth does Grandma venerate her so much if she was an atheist? Besides which the mere fact of this unknown, except as a point of reference in her Grandmother's conversation, one which usually bored her, aunt being an athiest was enough to excite her sympathies (she too believed in no God) and her curiosities. Glancing about she saw an inviting heap of cushions, and half-consciously feeling very old fashioned in a good way, she arranged herself upon it and continued reading.