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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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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Dear‚ Journal I can’t believe that awful‚ no good man‚ John Proctor. He had the nerve to pick that whining wife over me. I am far better than that low life Goody Proctor. We have vastly different traits; we are like day night. She is a naive‚ simple woman. I on the other hand‚ am an adventurer. I am smart‚ healthy‚ and certainly far from simple. Why‚ any man would be lucky to have me as their wife. Elizabeth is a old hag who should just disappear off our land. I am a beautiful‚ young‚ healthy woman
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Entry 1 I’ve returned from the dreadful war in which entrapped me. I’m set free and life has resumed. But it’s still has been miserable. I had high hopes and was ready to return to normalcy. Anything but that happened. My wife had our third child‚ a girl‚ who was the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen. But it wasn’t the right time. The flu had been sweeping the streets and I’d hear about another death each day. I tried so hard to keep her safe‚ to keep her healthy. But eventually it spread to our
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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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Diary Entry 1 I could tell Tai’s grieving period would be considerable‚ unless I found someone to take Elton’s place right away. The next day in class a new guy named Christian came into my class and he was hot. Okay‚ okay I know I said I would find a guy for Tai‚ but I suppose there’s no harm in finding one for myself also. During the next few weeks I did what any normal girl would do. I sent myself love letters‚ flowers and candy. Just so he’d see how desired I was. Just in case he didn’t already
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April 26th 1915 There isn’t much to be seen from the ships as we are so far out‚ but from what was coming back from the landing‚ not much was to be imagined. Wounded men were pouring off the sets of rowboats being pulled by the steamboats. Many of the soldiers were unrecognisable. My thoughts went out to my little brother who had been so excited to enlist‚ but it wasn’t the case anymore. I had heard one of the captains talking about the thousands of men who had already lost their lives to the
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Dear Journal‚ My name is Hernan Cortes and I want to be a conquistador. I was born of Christian faith in Medellin Spain in 1485 but I’m not exactly sure what my exact date of birth is. I am a son of a well-known noble Spanish family; my mother‚ Catalina Pizarro Altamirano and my father‚ Martin Cortes. When I turned 19 I moved to Hispaniola as part of the Cuba conquest. I attended Salamanca University studying law when I was 14 as this is what my parents wanted but I could never concentrate on my
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