Finding The Storyteller

Journal Entry #2

Sept 7, 1929

  Today as I was working I heard a whisper. "Elena...".
"Yes Pa?", I responded. "No te llamé. I didn't call you."
"Estas bien míja?" he asked. "I'm okay Daddy. Seguro. I'm sure." I responded.
Maybe it was being in the heat for a while that I was hearing voices. My dad kept an eye on me for a while but stopped after he saw me keep working without looking up for 30 minutes.
Soon it was 3 p.m and time to go home. I only work weekends since I'm still in school. I do well in school but I'm not a genius. My favorite subject is writing and I love to read. My sisters don't like school much. They love to play outside when it's raining or play with their dolls, but the main thing we love to do is cook. Our mom said we should learn to cook so when we get older and have familias of our own, we will be able to pass down the recipes to our children.
  It was getting close to dinner time when I heard the whisper again. "Elena....".
I stopped in front of the kitchen and realized it wasn't my father. "Quien es? Who are you?" I whispered back at the voice. "You will find out soon, pero primero te contare una historia. I will tell you a story. Will you listen?" he asked gently. "Si. Yes I will." I said bravely.