It was a short dream. My great grandmother handed me a map and told me “this is the proof that the land is ours. Fight for it. “ In my hand I held the scroll. I unwrapped it and saw that there was a large area of land.There was a sentence written on the bottom that said Landowner Santiago. I remembered that my father had spoken of land stolen from his family and according to my dream this was it.
I woke up and quickly wrote what I knew. I made a replica of the map and then started to research the ownership records. It seemed that everything back then was sealed with a handshake and there was no written record of a deed. The map was the only clue that the land had been owned by my family. What happened I did not know but I was going to find out.
I went to Puerto Rico and searched for a written record. The trail led nowhere.
A week later I had a vision in my dream. It showed a fight between my great grandfather and another person. Then, it showed this person setting fire to several small houses on the land. I saw my great grandmother once again shove the map in my hands. “It is rightfully ours. Find the Map”
I searched for written records, more specifically the map. I looked for information about the fire and the fight. Unfortunately I did not find any written records at all.
I visited my Great grandmother’s house. The old building was deserted but still standing. It still belonged to my family so I was able to go in. The house looked as if it had been abandoned. Furnishing, personal items, everything was left untouched.
I began to search. First, I went into my grandparent’s room. Nothing. I went to the library and looked for books that might hold the answer. Perhaps a book intentionally misplaced on the shelf. Then I saw it, in an old diary. I looked at the title, “The Legacy” . I pulled it half out to see the front. Written on its face was “The Legacy” , a family tragedy. I looked through it but there was a page missing. It had been torn out. I pushed it back in and went to search all the other rooms. In the study, I tripped on the living room carpet and flew across the room landing on an old desk. The draw flew open. An envelope fell from the bottom of the desk. I stood up, dusted myself off and picked up the envelope. On the face of the envelope was written, ‘the Santiago Legacy’
“This is it!” I thought and nervously opened it up. It was a piece ripped from the diary. There were two entries:
December 10,1898.
The Spanish rule is over. Papa feels it is a good thing. Don Anastasio will have to give back the land he stole.
December 16, 1898
Today papa came home angry. He grabbed the map and went into the….
That was all that was written. I went into the family bible and saw that my Great grandfather died on the same day as the last entry.
That night I stayed at the old house and read the diary. It was filled with memories of my grandmother’s childhood but nothing else. I fell asleep. Then, as the morning light peeked through the window, and the cock crowed signaling the start of a new day, I opened my eyes. There were no more clues.
I was about to leave when a thought occurred to me. I hurried back to the library and fingered the old book. The hidden page was from this book. I was sure of it. I took the book off the shelf and flipped through the pages. There was a torn sheet. I opened the book to the last written entry and unfolded the torn page. I placed it along the tear. It fitted perfectly like a puzzle piece. The hidden page was from this book. I was sure of it. “This has to be a clue,” I thought.
I looked down at the diary and saw her last entry. She had written it a couple of months after her father died.
June 1898,
I am afraid. On the day that papa died he and Don Anastasio had a big fight. They brought Papa home but he was barely alive. Mama was crying. I was told not to go into the room but I had to see him. Papa looked up and smiled at me. “This is your legacy,” he said and placed a map into my hands. “Hide it,” he whispered. Then he was gone. I held tight to the map and cried for papa to wake up. Just then Mama came in followed by Don Anastasio. I hid the map under my dress and left the room. I am writing this to my future self , the entry continued. This is proof of why Papa died.
There was no more. The torn page which was the rest of the story was in my hands. I guess my Great grandmother stopped writing in the diary. She was afraid of what Don Anastasio might do. She was never able to get justice for her papa but maybe I could.
I decided to stay longer and search for more clues. Maybe she had another diary hidden somewhere in the house. I was determined to check every nook and cranny for a secret hiding place. I had to find the map.