First of all, this was originally a Humanities assignment, but I tweaked it a little and here you have a fanfiction from Sam's POV on the Galveston Storm. I ought to warn you, though, this is in diary format. Please understand that this is the reason for short chapters and no dialoge. If you do not have any interest in diary-formatted stories, you may leave now or consider yourself warned. Also, please note that this story IS taking place in the 1900s, and Sam will be very much the same, but everyone wil be going by their full first name. (ex: Samantha, Daniel, Jasmine, etc.)

Okay, I bet that this will be confusing, so here's some background info for those unfamiliar with The Galveston Storm. (history bits, if you're just reading for the story, skip this part-just know that it could be VERY confusing if you do.) The Galveston Storm was actually a hurricane and happened from evening until early morning, starting on September 8, 1900. At this time, they didn't call hurricanes hurricanes, just simply storms. Thus we do not know the level of hurricane, though it was very powerful. They had weather-predictors then, not weathermen or women, and Isaac Cline was the most trusted. It was a rumor then that he never made mistakes, and that rumor was mostly true.

Until the Galveston Storm. Cline did not see the signs of a large storm until it was far too late. He was either ignoring them, or actually overlooked them. By the time Galvestonians knew it was no ordinary overflow (much like a minature flood), there was no way off the little island. Many people died in the storm and the survivors usually lost many they held dear.

That said, I do not own Danny Phantom. I own nobody in this fic (that I name) and I do accept flames as long as you tell me why you didn't like it/why you think it sucked. Now read and enjoy! (you will hopefully have learned something by the end of this story)

-here'syourstoryhopeyoulikeit-

September 7th, 1900

Dear Diary,

Today I have decided to start keeping a record of my life- you. I feel the need to express my individuality somehow, and Mother said that the only way to go about this ambition properly was to start a Diary. Since this is but my first entry, it shall be rather long- longer than any of a normal day. Such being said, I will now tell you more about me.

I am fourteen years old, to be fifteen come December. My name is Samantha Anastasia Manson. It's rather long, but beautiful all the same- unless you must write it out almost fifty times in the same day. So I simply go by Samantha- rather normal, but my mother is always insisting on calling me Samantha Anastasia. I must say, it can get irritating at times. But I'm rambling on like the elderly now.

My friends are Jasmine Fenton, Daniel Fenton, and Tucker Foley. I know- I've more boys in the group than you'd expect of the average person. But I'm not your average girl. I do not like even being considered your average girl. It's too normal. I can't stand normal, which makes it a rather good thing that Father makes enough money to keep us fed and in fashion. Sometimes we're even ahead- not necessarily a bad thing or a good one. In any case, none of my friends are particularly normal either.

Jasmine and Daniel's father is a weather-predictor. He is more of a repairman than a predictor, though. But he is very able when it comes to fixing machines and the like. Their mother died at sea one day- at least, that's what they assume. All they really know is that she left for a trip to visit her parents somewhere, I've forgotten exactly where, and was never heard from again. There are some stories that she was kidnapped, but I don't find those very convincing. And if she was, she's dead by now- she was accounted for as dead about seven years ago, when Jasmine was ten and Daniel seven. They were sad for a while, and sometimes Jasmine still is. Daniel can't really remember his mother.

Tucker has an odd obsession with weather-predicting. Any and every time some poor person brings the subject up, he's got some interesting tidbit of information to share about it. His role model is unsurprisingly Isaac Cline. According to Tucker, Isaac Cline is incapable of making a mistake, no matter how small. Tucker will never get the chance to be a weather-predictor, though, for he is African. He and his father are always working hard, so I really don't get to see him. Oddly enough, he has no mother either- she died while giving birth. But I am rambling again.

It's been very hot lately- so hot that I am tempted to think that the heat has gotten to my brain. I almost fell asleep during church last Sunday. I'd thought I was under my covers in bed at home until Jasmine, who'd been sitting next to me, nudged me. Many times I wish I didn't have to wear such cumbersome dresses, but Mother will not have me wear anything else. So every chance I get I go to the beach with Jasmine and Daniel, not that it's much better. The sun is affecting everything- making it hot to the touch. I actually have a considerable amount of spare time. I don't have any chores because I'm a girl and Father has others do the work. I say others because I don't really know a better word for it.

Because I have so much excess time is another reason for the starting of this record. And I don't really get punished often, just talked sternly to every once in a blue moon. Grandpa says Father's too easy on me- at least, he used to. Grandpa died two years ago of the yellow fever. Miraculously, no one else in this house got the sickness. Grandma hasn't stopped wearing black since; Mother hasn't stopped wearing her black jewel necklace since she came out of mourning three or so months ago.

Goodness! I must go now; I got a bit carried away and didn't notice the time. But first, I name you Lilith. It just seems more natural to me if you have a name.

Most Sincerely,

Samantha