The Diary of Isabelle Adams - Megan Crants (best books to read for young adults txt) 📗

thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! --- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

Poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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October 17, 1859

I have been waiting for Isaac every day for the past eight years and not once did I reconsider my decision or falter in my promise. Life became a burden and I wanted time to pass as quickly as possible-anything to see him again. His ghost had become an obsession to me and all I wanted to do was to hear his voice one more time and I felt I would be happy forever. My devotion is overwhelming. I don’t really know what I’m doing or why I’m doing it, but the spontaneity feels good. This feels right. I finally get to be away from it all, I finally get what I want. I need to run out to town for a few hours for Paul, I will write more tonight.
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It’s true what they say; that one mans decisions can affect your life forever. For me, on this day, that man is John Brown. Brown is an abolitionist of epic proportions, determined to destroy slavery at all costs. He decided that America needed a bit of revolution to change the way things were for slaves and gained monetary support from abolitionists in the North who wanted to see him succeed.
Last night, he gathered 21 men, white and black, to start an upraising in Harper’s Ferry, Virginia. He wanted to take the federal armory over, give those weapons taken to nearby slaves, and start a revolution. He kept sixty townspeople captive in hopes that their slaves would join him in his quest…but not a single one did. Local officials came instead and killed ten of Brown’s rebels and Brown himself was captured. His plan failed quite miserably.
When I first heard of this rebellion when I went to town, I instinctively tried to push it out of my mind, as racial uprising made me think of Isaac. Plus, there was nothing I could do about it but mourn the loss of the dead. But suddenly, the situation became all too personal. I heard the name “Isaac” among the gossipy townswomen discussing the matter and suddenly I felt all too much inclined to listen in and catch pieces of their conversation.
“Isn’t the one boy, Isaac, that runaway slave boy of the Adams family?”
“Such a shame…I wonder if they know…”
“Terrible way to die really. Oh well, at least he was just a nigger.”
My heart froze in that moment. I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe it. In a fit of pure desperation for the truth I strode up to the women. Asked them what was going on. My suspicions had been clarified. Isaac had been killed by one of the troops, fighting for liberty. Isaac was gone.
In that moment everything was hazy. Then my life became amazingly clear to me. I looked at the women, nodded in a controlled manner, then turned to leave. Before I could do so though, they started talking about the insignificance of the slave deaths. I couldn’t take it anymore. I turned back around and I yelled at those women like I never had before. I told them how sick I was of racism and how could they honestly stand there and say the death of a person didn’t matter. I don’t even know what I said exactly; all I know is that everything I had bottled up my whole life came out to these random women. And they just stood there, silently, not quite sure what to make of me. When I turned to leave, they remained silent. I felt liberated. I felt overwhelmed. I felt doomed. I felt everything around me go black.
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The Death of Lovers

We shall have beds full of subtle perfumes,
Divans as deep as graves, and on the shelves
Will be strange flowers that blossomed for us
Under more beautiful heavens.

Using their dying flames emulously,
Our two hearts will be two immense torches
Which will reflect their double light
In our two souls, those twin mirrors.

Some evening made of rose and of mystical blue
A single flash will pass between us
Like a long sob, charged with farewells;

And later an Angel, setting the doors ajar,
Faithful and joyous, will come to revive
The tarnished mirrors, the extinguished flames.

Poem by Charles Baudelaire
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October 18, 1859

Isaac is dead. All my years of waiting, all my dangerous daydreams, everything has been anticlimactic. He is gone and this time, there is no point in pretending he is coming back. He’s gone. Gone. Gone…
I feel numb. And cold, so cold. I live for him, I breathe for him, and for a moment or two, I consider dying to be with him. Then, I stop to realize that I have a battle to fight. I can’t just give up-Isaac is depending on me still. He died fighting for a cause we both believed in-he died for freedom and justice. The only way he can continue fighting and make his mark on this earth is through me. I’m his last hope of salvation.
I confessed everything to Paul. I told him of my undying love for Isaac. I told him that I knew he was going to run away and I had received letters from him in the North. I told him that I hated his thoughts and opinions and that, for once, I was going to speak what was on my mind-racism is not right. I told him I had never loved him as I loved Isaac and I never would. Then I ran.
I have run as far as I possibly can and I am now sitting under a large tree, shivering its multi-colored leaves off in the bitter wind. I don’t know what I will do now or where I will go, but all I know is that I am free now. I am free to express my thoughts to anyone and everyone. I am free to become a conductor on the Underground Railroad. I am free to move north and express my abolitionism with those who sympathize with me. I am free to live.
I received this letter addressed from Isaac this morning and upon reading it, I decided to confess to Paul. Isaac took half of my heart with him when he died, but replaced it with something much better-a reason to keep going. I think about him every moment of every day and I wonder if I could have done something differently-but I realize I wouldn’t change anything for the world. Fear is a terrible enemy, but love conquers all. I’ll still remember the smile in his eyes on my deathbed. I’ll still feel the warmth of his body against mine as I march to save lives. I’ll still hear the sound of his voice, calling me his rosebud and loving me with all his heart.
Never again will I be afraid to speak up and I speak the truth when I say that I am a changed woman. Isaac is my inspiration and my dream. He says I saved his life, but he saved mine. He held the keys to the truth I didn’t know was locked away. With him resting safely now, I can live to the fullest knowing I am serving him in doing so. At last, I can save the world.
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Isabelle-

I am here in Virginia. A man by the name of James Brown has offered me the chance of a lifetime-the opportunity to fight side by side with Negroes and whites for liberty and justice. He wants to start a slave uprising and I feel as though this is my calling. I’ve always wanted the chance to make a difference, and now I can. I will fight for this cause with all that I am and, when I am done, I will come and find you. I am anxious to see you again and my love for you pulses stronger just knowing we are close together. Fear not for me during the uprising, for I am ready to die. Just knowing I have loved you and have done something to change the world…that’s all anyone could ever ask for. If I don’t live to see you again, just know that no one can tell you what to do. You have to choose your own path and don’t let anybody or any emotion hold you down. Don’t live your life for me, but live life how you feel you should. I eagerly anticipate our reunion and I love you with all my heart.

Most Sincerely,
Isaac
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Publication Date: 12-17-2010

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