Dear Diary
Revelations in 100 words
She shivered. The musky dampness of the boathouse felt as forbidden as ever. Maybe more so since their mother was no longer alive to countermand her inviolable instruction. ‘Never EVER disturb me in my studio’. They never had. Her fingers trembled as she unlocked the Edwardian desk, catching the tumbling sheaf of vellum papers.
It was embossed ‘1989’ the year father left. The crimson ribbon was frayed where it marked the page that fell open. Her mother’s elegant cursive script blurred through unexpected tears. “Dear Diary, it is not nearly as hard to kill a man as you might imagine”.
That was good. The ending is perfectly dark.
Oooof. This is good. So good I put my hand up to cover my mouth on reading that last sentence. Like I’ve just been told a shocking secret which I must not speak of. Love this.
I decided a long time ago that I’d like to write a book but didn’t have the skills or stylistic presence to write an entire novel (or the patience) and found that this format exactly suits that. None of mine are this good yet though. What a joy.