Dear Diary... | Teen Ink

Dear Diary...

November 11, 2010
By Arachnophobia BRONZE, Park Falls, Wisconsin
Arachnophobia BRONZE, Park Falls, Wisconsin
1 article 0 photos 2 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.” -Stephen King

June 28th, 2014

Dear diary,

Hey there diary! My parents bought you for me on my birthday, which just happened to be a few days ago. I never got around to writing in you, we've been so busy. But anyway, hiya! My name is Cassandra Linette. Everyone just calls me Casey though. I think I'll give you a nickname. Later though, it's time to introduce the family.

I already introduced myself, but that's not the whole family, of course. My father is a really nice man. He works too much though, so he's almost never at home. My mom is a true sweetheart; her name's. I also have a little (and annoying) brother.

If you must know, I am 13 years old. So my writing might get a little bit more sloppy than you might be used to. You are a professional date planner after all. Black leather, at least 200 pages, and a nice fancy book-clasp on the front, to keep intruders out. ...You're beautiful. But you already know that, don't you? You're a pretty little book. But, unfortunately, I must go. It's bed time, and dad still hasn't gotten home from work yet. I'm used to it though. Night diary! See you in the mornin'!

Yours truly, Casey

June 29th, 2014, 10:00 A.M.

Dear diary,

Hey again diary. Dad still isn't home from work yet. But I'm still not worried; this wont be the first time he's spent all day and all night at the lab. He's probably coming up with a cure for the common cold or something. =)

A bunch of loud noises came from Mrs. Rose's house early this morning. I think she might have been robbed. Mom says to not go over to her house; there might be broken glass. Ugh, it's not the last time someone in our neighborhood has gotten robbed. Nor is it the first. I just hope Mrs. Rose wasn't hurt; she always brought us cookies and milk on hot summer days.

I have to go again. Mom says we have to clean the house, and she has to go grocery shopping later. See you in a while! I'll put you back on your usual spot on the shelf.

Yours truly, Casey

June 29th, 2014, 4:30 P.M.

Dear diary,

Hey little sister. Like my new nickname for you? Its the only thing I can come up with at the moment, so that is what you will be called from now on. You will be my little sister; I've always wanted one. All I had was my little brother.

Mom went grocery shopping a few hours ago. The nice lady on the TV set said that there was an accident at Daddy's work. She said it's minor, but we're not supposed to go outside. The cable went out just after she said that. I don't care if we're not supposed to worry, I'm scared. Will Dad be alright? What about Mom? We haven't heard from Mrs. Rose, either. What happened to her? Its nearly dark now, and mom still isn't back. Little brother got hungry, so I gave him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He's screaming for Mommy's lasagna, which she was supposed to make tonight. Sis, you wouldn't happen to be a cookbook, would you?

I have to go, it's nearly bedtime; I must get little brother ready for bed.

Yours truly, Casey

July 1st, 2014, 8:00 A.M.

Dear little Sister,

Hey sis. Me again. Dad still isn't home from work, and we're all a little worried around here. Mom came home late last night, and wasn't feeling very well. She thinks she caught a small flu.

Cable is back on. The news lady on the TV said that there's an epidemic going around, which is causing Mommy's flu. The lady said we can't go near her, or we might get sick too. We couldn't even get a goodnight kiss from her. We think Mrs. Rose is dead. Mom said there was nobody there when she came home from the store, but the front door was open and the windows were broken.

I'm so scared, sis. Mommy says Daddy can't come home anymore. We can't talk to him either. I think he's dead. Sis, I'm scared. I'm so, so scared.

Yours truly, Casey

July 1st, 2014. 6:00 P.M.

Dear little Sister,

Hey again Sis. Mom is still in her room, but the lady on the TV said we still can't go near her. It's a good thing that she has a bathroom in her own bedroom, she is throwing up a lot now. She tries to blow everything off - to say it's nothing serious - but I think we all know this is bad. Very, very bad.

We know Mrs. Rose is dead for sure now. The ambulance finally came, and took her body away. They think it was some sort of animal who did it. Her body was all bloody and torn to pieces. I hope she's happy wherever she is.

We don't know much about Daddy yet. The news lady says that nobody escaped his lab alive, but who's to say he isn't alive inside the lab still? We can hope, can't we? Can't we?! I'm still so scared, little Sis.

Little brother is screaming with hunger, and we're running out of bread for sandwiches. I wish I could go down to the supermarket and get some food, but us kids have no money. And Mommy isn't really up for moving, much less driving to the market again.

I have to find some sort of food for little brother and Mommy. She seems fine with cans of soup, but I know that she can't keep it down very well. I wish we had some bread or crackers for her.

Yours truly, Casey.

p.s. Some scary guy came knocking at our door. He was covered in blood, and was begging to be let in. We didn't let him in... I think he killed Mrs. Rose.

July 2nd, 2014. 10:00 A.M.

Dear little Sister,

Just woke up. The news is on every channel now. I had to pull out a bunch of DVDs for little brother to watch. I found some old fruit snacks for him. There's a full box, but even I know those won't last long. I hope this thing ends soon.

The people on the TV are saying to board up the house, and not go outside. We locked the doors, and pulled the shades. That's the best we can do for now. Mom's too sick to even move now, she's throwing up all over herself. She's stopped joking; the vomit must be wearing away at her throat. I think I heard her say something about a tooth falling out.

The normal news lady is dead. She was attacked in the street by some of the people who were unlucky enough to be sick like Mommy. The camera man couldn't run away fast enough. Even after dropping his camera, they were still too fast. The news company couldn't turn off his camera either, so channel 12 is constantly showing the dead body of the news lady, who is slowly being eaten by the sick people.

Another person was at the door when I woke up. He wasn't begging to be let in, he was just pounding on the door. I think it was my first grade teacher. I can't tell through all of the blood that's on his face.

I have to go, its nearly lunch time and I have to find some chicken in the freezer for Mommy. Last night, I had to make nearly the whole bag for her. She just ate the breading/skin off of it, not even touching the chicken itself. Little brother was tempted to eat the actual chicken, but i tossed them out the window.

Yours truly, Casey.

p.s. Mom finally stopped throwing up. She's actually walking around in her room now. I can hear it, even through the closed doors.
p.s.s. In better news, the news lady is feeling better. She got up and started walking around, but she must have been tired because she couldn't walk that well, and she wasn't talking any real words; just moans.

July 2nd, 2014. 10:00 P.M.

Dear little Sister,

My pen is running out of ink. I can't find any pencils or pens anywhere.

Mom is still wandering around, banging on the walls and doors of her room. Little brother keeps telling me to let her out, but I won't let him. I can't help but think that she is ending up like the people who keep coming to our doors (and windows recently) every once and a while.

I found out that little brother snuck one chicken strip away from the plate that mom had before I could throw it away, and ate it. He is getting sick now too. Mom isn't making noise in her room anymore. I think she's dead. But I'm too scared to go in and check. Little brother volunteered though. What a brave little trooper.

He went in, and we both realized too late that she was not, in fact, dead. She was faking or something. Little brother screamed and ran, and got out of there pretty quickly.

He didn't tell me until a few minutes ago that she bit him. He bled all over the linoleum in the kitchen. There's a big puddle. I locked him in his room. I think he will turn into one of those...things like Mommy. Daddy isn't home yet either. I'm pretty sure he's dead now, too.

They finally took channel 12 off the air. A little late, considering the sick people had finished the news lady about five hours before the camera ran out of battery. All the other channels are still on, but there's no more people on the street broadcasting. Its all through plated-glass windows and helicopters.

The president declared it a national emergency; we aren't allowed to leave the country anymore. People are already sick in Canada though.

Its spreading.

Yours truly, Casey.

p.s. I...I think little brother is dead. He's not throwing up, and he's not making any more noises - none at all. I'm not going to check on him. It's my fault he went in. My fault. My fault. It's all my fault.

July 3rd, 2014. 5:00 P.M.

Dear little Sister,

My pen did run out of ink. Good thing I finally found a pencil underneath the couch.

The infection is still spreading. The president met with other World Leaders and they declared a global epidemic. We still can't leave the country, and we're not even supposed to leave our homes anymore.

The helicopters have stopped taking videos of this whole mess. They've started shooting the infected instead. Not even sick people anymore; evidently they're not classified as human. Infected, doesn't that sound so...grisly?

Mom is dead now. I'm sure of it. I can smell her body; I think it's decomposing faster than a normal person would. Brother is dead now too. Or at least I think he is. It (that thing is not my brother anymore) might still be waiting for me to check on "him".

I think I'm starting to run out of food. Mom should have a bunch of groceries out in her car, wouldn't she? She did go to the supermarket afterall. But there are infected people out there. And the helicopters who might think I'm one of the infected. And maybe Mommy got sick before she could even get to the supermarket? It's a risk I have to take.

I want chicken. I want food. I want my old life back.

Yours truly, Casey.

July 4th, 2014. 11:00 P.M.

Dear little Sister,

I'm so hungry.

Little brother broke out of his room; he wasn't dead. I ran to the basement, but all I could grab in time was you, a pen, and the sandwich I had in my hand.

It's dark in here, but there's one small little bulb. It's old, and it could go out any second. So that's why I'm writing to you now. You see, I can still hear the television from down here. I had left it on while I was still up there.

The President, our leader, has declared that the U.S. Army is to launch a nuclear warhead at our own country. It's a good thing that I won't even be here when the bomb hits, because Little Brother bit me.

I tried eating the sandwich, but it just doesn't taste right anymore. I need meat.

Dear god, I'm so hungry. You don't taste enough like skin.

Yours truly, Casey.

The author's comments:
As a challenge to myself, I tried to write from the view point of a young girl.

Set in a fictional town in Wisconsin, it is a recollection of Cassandra Linette's encounters during an outbreak of a deadly infection.

I tried to take the classic story The Diary of Anne Frank and add a twist to it. In this case -- zombies.

Just a warning, this story may not be appropriate for the younger readers, as it contains some violence and gore, which some may find disturbing.

It also might be a little long than what the editors of the magazine might like. If that is the case, then you do not need to publish it.

I hope this thing has an 'edit' button, I want to see if italics and such will work.

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