My writing muse has largely been absent for a while now but thought I'd give it a go and she if she would cooperate. This is the result, my long over due answer to Astronauts Riddle me this challenge.
Prompts were...incendio, distance,fingertips, curtains, evidence, pants.
August 1st 1938
Diary
I found, that is to say I acquired, this blank notebook in one of the numerous cupboards located in Matron's office. Stupid woman won't even know it's gone and I find my self in need of a way to record my thoughts while being forced to stay in this sub- standard, pathetic excuse of a prison they call Wool's Orphanage. Seemed only right that I should make use of the clean, crisp white pages to set down my musings. Drab and dreary this poor excuse of a home to shelter parentless childern has been my dwelling for nearly all of my eleven years of living . Make no mistake though, it is not my home and never will be. I am surrounded by the feeble-minded and am increasingly confident in my suspicions that Tom Riddle is not of their ilk but something else, something greater. Tom Riddle does not belong here, I am quiet convinced of that.
I might have taken pen to paper sooner, however I am hindered by absurd Orphanage regulatons and it is necessary to hide the evidence of my new aquistion. The restrictions placed upon me grate and leave a sour taste. For the most part I am left alone, this suits me well for it quickly became apparent that I am well above the intelligence level of my supposed peers. No, I find my own company far more agreeable and see nothing to be gained from the idle prattle I am inundated with almost daily. What purpose could there be in partaking in such activities as favoured by the others? Better to have others leave one to one's own council until we have some use of them. This is something I have always thought to be true and I have yet to discover evidence that would suggest otherwise.
Pulling back the old thread- bare curtains to glance out the window I notice It is still raining. Not an uncommon thing in London, rain but It hasn't been long since the Orphanage's annual trip to the sea and the confines of the Orhanage walls seem all the more constricting because of it when obliged to stay indoors due to the wretched weather. Events in those seaside caves provided an adequate deterent should one of the Orphanage boys unwisely seek to get too familiar, not that there is any danger of that, they have learnt to keep their distance.
Matron or Mrs Cole if you prefer, says that I am to have a visitor sometime tomorrow, my very first. I suspect I will find this visitor to be less than welcome and I shall have to suffer through the ordeal with as much grace as I can muster. Even with the limited understanding of those around me and my own efforts at being circumspect, it can not go unmarked that I am some -how different. I am able to do many things that I know the other children can not. My welcome in this establishment has long been strained and I assume I'm someone they would rather be well rid of. Greatness has always been vastly misunderstood. It is feasible that in their error they may want to send me away to one of those distasteful asylums filled with even more distasteful doctors.
Earlier I caught alight the edges of my best grey pants, mearly by carelessly pointing my fingers out and speaking in some dialect I have come to understand as not true english. It was a first though after all and such carelessness will not happen again. Objects around me move when they aught to stay still. Then of course there are the snakes, those serpentine creatures that seem drawn to me and like to wrap themselves around my legs. Tomorrow I will have to think on this more, until then it is getting late, I should get some rest and Matron will be on her rounds soon.