Dear Diary 4

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
short story from year 9.

Submitted: July 19, 2012

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Submitted: July 19, 2012




Dear Diary,

The doors in my house keep on slamming.  I hear shouts and screams, I just want them to love each other.  I don’t want to hear the yelling, the shouting, the constant worry about if anyone is listening or if anyone is home to see them.  My ears are red-hot with their voices, the tips burning with fear.  I see cobwebs and designs that I had never noticed before, just to avoid the obvious.  I hear their voices, I know that they don’t want me to see them.

I can’t see them.

For all I know, the doors are slamming because of the wind, but I live in a house with no windows.  The shouts could just be my imagination, the hushed whispers, the constant low voices are just a murmur of my head.  I wonder what they look like right now.

I don’t want to see them.

Diary, I’m afraid.  Under my bed, trying to become invisible.  I don’t want anything to break.  I don’t want them to know that I can hear them, that I know that they’re here.  I’m shaking with fear, with fright.  

I hear threats, of knives, of guns, of fists.  I hear tales of past injuries inflicted.  I hear all of these; the air grows more and more tense and the carpet under my elbows turns them tender and red.  I hold back tears in hopes that it will all turn out alright, that the voices will stop shouting and the things will stop making loud noises, the throwing of glasses, the hurling of my things.  I can’t stop them, they have power over me.  They have knives and guns.

The doors in my house keep on slamming.

Diary, I live alone.

© Copyright 2018 Kathryn Thorne. All rights reserved.

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