Tom Riddle's Diary
Dear Diary,
This is the very first time that I am writing in this journal. I bought it from that little book store near the Orphanage with some money that I stole from the headmistress.
Her purse was a glittery pink color and her wallet had just enough pounds to buy it. The journal is maroon red and has a blank name tag on the back.
Today whilst I was showering, a young boy scrambled into the private bathroom that each room has and saw me. I was enraged. So enraged that I just lost control. I started screaming at him in a random, whispering language that I had no idea I could speak. I had just thought that I was discovering areas of my brain and that it was just a slip up.
He started to cry and sob, weeping for mercy. He said that he was scared.
But I had no mercy. I felt as though I had no privacy in this wretched orphanage, so I wanted the boy to pay. I raised my hand up, and spoke what seemed like an incantation in the same whispering, wheezing voice. The boy started levitating up and up and up, hitting his head on the short ceiling.
I squeezed my hand tighter and he grabbed his own neck, writhing in pain, screaming, "Mercy! Mercy!"
He went limp and fell to the ground.
I ran out of the bathroom and dried off in my room. The authorities came by late this afternoon to take away the declared dead body.
What is happening to me? It seems as though you are my only friend, diary, and I had just bought you today.
Tom Marvolo Riddle, 12 August, 1936