The Seasonal Construct Cup

April Prompt #15

The old schoolmaster's desk
sat solidly in the corner
Since the day I had inherited it
waiting for my exploration
Nooks and crannies
tiny sections
one after another
Skeletons of memories past
seep from the hidden crevices
The lowest drawer calls to me
enticing me to look deeper
False bottom lifts up
inviting my curiosity
There, covered in dust
a black journal lay
I gingerly lift it from it's hiding place
brushing it off with gentle touch
The journal almost creaked
as I carefully opened it
The pages yellowed
faded by time
Yet the ink still visible
so dark and strong
I start reading
getting lost within his words
Relating so much
it scares me
He wrote of the voices
the good and the bad
He wrote about feeling
like he never had control
My heart pounded in my ears
someone that understood
Never met but bonded as one
First feeling up
then crashing down
He hid it from all
for it was taboo
Yet he had to somehow
let evil spew forth
Onto these pages
in front of me now
Knowing my uncle
whom I've never met
Had the same problems as me
made me feel not so alone
With the turning of each page
I felt newfound hope
Must be the strength
these pages hold