Chapter 1: August 18th‚ Dear Diary‚ I had the dream again tonight. It was the same one as last night. Except this time I got a glimpse of the man’s eyes when we got close.They were gray‚ like nothing. It was as if he was empty inside. That was the only thing i could capture before somebody
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My Dearest Diary‚ It is hard to fathom the fact that Mrs. Fullerton’s house will be demolished by tomorrow. Danny and I had grown quite accustomed to the sight of chickens running astray amongst her apple and cherry trees. Nonetheless‚ the community members believe it is for the best…everyone is clearly excited about resale values increasing. Personally‚ I am disgusted that a vibrant old lady such as Mrs. Fullerton has to uproot her entire life due to the fact her existence is seen as an “eyesore”
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Dear Diary‚ It’s not fair! It’s just not fair! What was Dumby’s fault? Why him? Why does god always have to punish the good? I understand that Dumby was wrong by breaking into the pub‚ but it’s not his fault. He was upset because he didn’t get the McRae medal for best on ground‚ and his stupid cousin took advantage of that. Couldn’t Big Mac see that it was Dumby? Dumby doesn’t deserve to die like this. He was good from the heart. He was the one who helped me the time when our team was playing
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1800 B.C. (the harvesting season) Dear diary I can’t believe my luck today I just brought some melon seeds from the markets I just hopefully that boost how much my crops are worth. When I get home I reach my new house that I got last month when dad gave me the farm I’m just so lucky that my dad didn’t end up giving the farm to stern (my younger brother) because if he had that would have meant that I would have had to ether join the army or become a peasant and I didn’t want any of those things to
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lived in the small town I’d come too searching for him. I didn’t and couldn’t believe them at the time. I had screamed his name all night through the holes on the window of my cell door until the nurses were forced to sedate me. Six years ago my wife left me without a word. It was devastating. One day I saw her walking down the street with another man. I couldn’t believe it. Weeks past and she slowly began to fade from my mind. Then one day‚ exactly six years
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Dear Diary‚ As I write this‚ I have two things on my mind. One‚ I am a murderer. Two‚ the war changes you‚ and not for the better. As I look back at my journey to go home to my family and a special woman of my life‚ this is one of the moments that stands out the most and I feel the need to share it with you. Earlier‚ I had been hosed down and dressed in black and grey prison clothing‚ before being shackled and thrown into a German staff car. I was starved‚ only being fed some bread an
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I pry my eyes open after yet another restless night. For a fleeting moment‚ I feel peaceful as my body lays completely still and my thoughts are silenced; unfortunately‚ the brief moment of serenity quickly fades‚ leaving in its place a sense of gut wrenching guilt. These days‚ it seems to be the only emotion that I am capable of feeling. Images of Duncan’s bloodied body appear in my mind and I feel a wave of nausea hit me. My fingers instinctively wrap around the candle by my bedside. I let out
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General Macarthur’s Diary Day 4992‚ Afternoon Good Afternoon‚ friend‚ Finally on my journey to Soldier Island now. Everything is refreshing and relaxing except for this damn old train I am currently in‚ shaky like a rocking chair and slow as a tortoise . For God sake‚ my destination is really no distance at all as the crow flies‚ I wish I could get off now and start travelling on foot. It had been 30 years since I had a proper chat with them‚ my old crony mates. I wonder who exactly is coming
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April 27‚ 1984 Dear Diary‚ Today I was eagerly waiting for Patrick to return home from work. I counted the minutes as they passed‚ and as always‚ at 5:00‚ I heard the crunching of the gravel outside the slam of the car door and the key unlocking the door. I got up and went to greet him. I placed a kiss on his head and went to make drinks for us‚ a strong one for him and a weak one for me. I continued knitting‚ knowing he doesn’t like to speak until the first drink is over. He finished his drink and
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Journal entry May 15‚ 1898 After much debate and many arguments between the family members‚ we had decided to forget the woeful life we lived here in Italy and move to America. Our wages were low here in this country. We are mainly farmers‚ and our grape and other crops had been damaged by disease. Most of us live here in poverty‚ barely making enough money to feed our families and ourselves. When we heard about the opportunity in the Americas‚ I ran home immediately to tell my family
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