Phoebe's Diary Journal of Awesome Happenings and Random Thoughts
~Dear Diary,
Wait. No, this is not a diary. Diaries are for sissies. I know it says "Diary" on the front of it, but this is a JOURNAL. A journal that will be filled with AWESOME.
All right. Now that that's all clarified, I should write something about my day. That's just what you do in journals and such. Only problem is I can't think of anything. Nothing cool happened today except for when I set the toaster on fire this morning. That seems to be a reccuring problem with me; Setting things ablaze... Well then. I'll write something later, I guess.
-- Pyromaniac Phoebe
~Dear Journal That is Most Definately Not a Diary,
Tonight was eventful. Went for a run in the woods earlier around 8-ish and found a dead kid. Alarming, right? I assumed she was murdered, if the cuts, bruises, and slashed throat were anything to judge by. If there's anything that really ticks me off, it's murder. Especially when kids are involved. So I called the cops and phased back into a wolf, intending to track down the killer(s). I caught the scent immediately and ran off after them. (Not the smartest idea when the cops were already on the way, I know. I probably shouldn't have left the crime scene right then, but I was angry.)
Fortunately for the killers, they got in a car and drove away. Cars are pretty much impossible to track. They all smell the same on a road where other cars have been. So i headed back in bitter defeat to wait for the fuzz. After they arrived I had to answer many questions, assure them that I haven't touched the crime scene, give them my info, blah blah blah... All that stuff you see on CSI. Then one of the nice officers offered me a ride home since it was so late, and I really had no choice but to say yes. I'm an 18 year old girl, what was I supposed to say? "No thanks! I'd much rather walk home alone in the dark woods with a psycho killer on the loose. Night, fellas!" Not sure that would have gone well.
Anyway. I hope they find whoever killed that girl and string him up by his toes... or something cruel like that. Me? I'd probably rip his head off or something. I remember their smell, so they'd better hope they never cross me.
-- Pheo-be-angry (<-- see what I did there? Clever.)
~Dear Identity Confused Book I'm Writing In,
What's up? Nothing? Yeah. Me too, journal, me too. There isn't much to do in this tiny excuse for a town I live in. It's really more like a village or a hamlet. Tiny, tiny, tiny... I suppose that's a good thing though. I don't do well in cities. I'm a tiny bit claustrophobic... I went to Chicago once and almost hyperventilated in a parking garage because I got lost. Like I said, a tiny bit claustrophobic.
Trying to not think about the other day. It'll just upset me. Benvolio's been extra cuddly lately, which leads me to believe he knows what's up. Animals are sensitive like that.
-- Phe, fi, fo, fum...
~Dear Whatever,
News of the little girl I found is all over the place. I'm not putting her name and age in here yet because I dont feel like I should. Shush, Diary/Journal... I don't have to explain myself to you.
I'm glad I told those cops not to release my name to anyone. They refer to me as "The Runner" when they bring me up. Kind of a cool nickname. The Runner... Kind of reminds me of the roadrunner in that cartoon who's always getting chased by that coyote. Hmm... Not sure I like the name anymore. I don't like the idea of being chased by coyotes. Not that they would be much of a threat, I just don't like being chased. Im in charge of all the chasing around here, thank you very much.
--Phe the Great
~Dear Not-diary
It's been about 2 to 3 weeks since I've last written here. Or maybe 4... Not sure. Figured an update was in order.
Turns out they found the guy. That was fast. Well, not really. But fast enough I suppose. I've learned not to expect much from people. I estimated up to a month or two, depending on how smart the guy was. He wasn't very smart. He's been spotted hanging around that girl's school before and people have reported him. One of the girl's classmates came out and said she'd seen the man talking to the girl before, asking her if she'd like to go somewhere fun, like the mall or a toy store. Aparently, this kid's never watched any of those detective/CSI shows on USA before, because one day she finally said yes and got in his creeper van. (Isn't that something all parents teach their kids? To stay away from creepy guys with vans?) You already know how the rest of the story went. Long story short, the guy had a history of stuff like this before and the cops suspected him.
Now I feel like I can put her name. It was Kathrine and she was 8. Isn't that terrible? EIGHT. Not even a decade old! Not even in the double digits! That's why I do what I do. Get the bad guys, I mean. If I'm gonna have this power, I'm gonna use it to help others. Yup. Like a superhero. All I need is the cape. Just the cape though. I refuse to wear underwear over my pants. (Tights?) Whatever. Wish I could have caught the guy myself to let him know what a slashed throat feels like himself, but i guess I'll just have to settle with knowing that he'll probably be in jail for the rest of his life. I'm not even going to give him the esteemed honor of having his name in my journal. He shall forever remain nameless and anonymous, because I say so.
--PhoeNIX
~Dear Not-as-random-and-cool-as-I-wanted-you-to-be Diary Journal,
You didn't quite turn out how I wanted you to be, journal... I think I might rip out your last few pages. Why? I already have a notebook full of depressing stuff. (Sad poems and such. I call it my Gloomy Day book... Everybody gets sad sometimes. Some cry about it. I write about it.) I wanted this particular notebook to be happy and full of the strange ideas i sometimes have but have nothing to write them down in. My room is a mess and the first notebook I saw to write in about my day was this one. I ruined it with my own messiness. I really gotta clean my room. So... yeah. These pages are going in the GD book. I guess that's the end of it then. ... Yup.
~Dear Diary,
Wait. No, this is not a diary. Diaries are for sissies. I know it says "Diary" on the front of it, but this is a JOURNAL. A journal that will be filled with AWESOME.
All right. Now that that's all clarified, I should write something about my day. That's just what you do in journals and such. Only problem is I can't think of anything. Nothing cool happened today except for when I set the toaster on fire this morning. That seems to be a reccuring problem with me; Setting things ablaze... Well then. I'll write something later, I guess.
-- Pyromaniac Phoebe
~Dear Journal That is Most Definately Not a Diary,
Tonight was eventful. Went for a run in the woods earlier around 8-ish and found a dead kid. Alarming, right? I assumed she was murdered, if the cuts, bruises, and slashed throat were anything to judge by. If there's anything that really ticks me off, it's murder. Especially when kids are involved. So I called the cops and phased back into a wolf, intending to track down the killer(s). I caught the scent immediately and ran off after them. (Not the smartest idea when the cops were already on the way, I know. I probably shouldn't have left the crime scene right then, but I was angry.)
Fortunately for the killers, they got in a car and drove away. Cars are pretty much impossible to track. They all smell the same on a road where other cars have been. So i headed back in bitter defeat to wait for the fuzz. After they arrived I had to answer many questions, assure them that I haven't touched the crime scene, give them my info, blah blah blah... All that stuff you see on CSI. Then one of the nice officers offered me a ride home since it was so late, and I really had no choice but to say yes. I'm an 18 year old girl, what was I supposed to say? "No thanks! I'd much rather walk home alone in the dark woods with a psycho killer on the loose. Night, fellas!" Not sure that would have gone well.
Anyway. I hope they find whoever killed that girl and string him up by his toes... or something cruel like that. Me? I'd probably rip his head off or something. I remember their smell, so they'd better hope they never cross me.
-- Pheo-be-angry (<-- see what I did there? Clever.)
~Dear Identity Confused Book I'm Writing In,
What's up? Nothing? Yeah. Me too, journal, me too. There isn't much to do in this tiny excuse for a town I live in. It's really more like a village or a hamlet. Tiny, tiny, tiny... I suppose that's a good thing though. I don't do well in cities. I'm a tiny bit claustrophobic... I went to Chicago once and almost hyperventilated in a parking garage because I got lost. Like I said, a tiny bit claustrophobic.
Trying to not think about the other day. It'll just upset me. Benvolio's been extra cuddly lately, which leads me to believe he knows what's up. Animals are sensitive like that.
-- Phe, fi, fo, fum...
~Dear Whatever,
News of the little girl I found is all over the place. I'm not putting her name and age in here yet because I dont feel like I should. Shush, Diary/Journal... I don't have to explain myself to you.
I'm glad I told those cops not to release my name to anyone. They refer to me as "The Runner" when they bring me up. Kind of a cool nickname. The Runner... Kind of reminds me of the roadrunner in that cartoon who's always getting chased by that coyote. Hmm... Not sure I like the name anymore. I don't like the idea of being chased by coyotes. Not that they would be much of a threat, I just don't like being chased. Im in charge of all the chasing around here, thank you very much.
--Phe the Great
~Dear Not-diary
It's been about 2 to 3 weeks since I've last written here. Or maybe 4... Not sure. Figured an update was in order.
Turns out they found the guy. That was fast. Well, not really. But fast enough I suppose. I've learned not to expect much from people. I estimated up to a month or two, depending on how smart the guy was. He wasn't very smart. He's been spotted hanging around that girl's school before and people have reported him. One of the girl's classmates came out and said she'd seen the man talking to the girl before, asking her if she'd like to go somewhere fun, like the mall or a toy store. Aparently, this kid's never watched any of those detective/CSI shows on USA before, because one day she finally said yes and got in his creeper van. (Isn't that something all parents teach their kids? To stay away from creepy guys with vans?) You already know how the rest of the story went. Long story short, the guy had a history of stuff like this before and the cops suspected him.
Now I feel like I can put her name. It was Kathrine and she was 8. Isn't that terrible? EIGHT. Not even a decade old! Not even in the double digits! That's why I do what I do. Get the bad guys, I mean. If I'm gonna have this power, I'm gonna use it to help others. Yup. Like a superhero. All I need is the cape. Just the cape though. I refuse to wear underwear over my pants. (Tights?) Whatever. Wish I could have caught the guy myself to let him know what a slashed throat feels like himself, but i guess I'll just have to settle with knowing that he'll probably be in jail for the rest of his life. I'm not even going to give him the esteemed honor of having his name in my journal. He shall forever remain nameless and anonymous, because I say so.
--PhoeNIX
~Dear Not-as-random-and-cool-as-I-wanted-you-to-be Diary Journal,
You didn't quite turn out how I wanted you to be, journal... I think I might rip out your last few pages. Why? I already have a notebook full of depressing stuff. (Sad poems and such. I call it my Gloomy Day book... Everybody gets sad sometimes. Some cry about it. I write about it.) I wanted this particular notebook to be happy and full of the strange ideas i sometimes have but have nothing to write them down in. My room is a mess and the first notebook I saw to write in about my day was this one. I ruined it with my own messiness. I really gotta clean my room. So... yeah. These pages are going in the GD book. I guess that's the end of it then. ... Yup.
Fair winds,
-- Phoebe