This is just a copy of a diary - a life story. I don't promise anything, though - it might - probably - be hopelessly useless and it probably - definitely - won't be updated very often. But I hope you enjoy what there is, nonetheless - please review, lol.

And I don't know much about dates or anything, so they might be frightfully incorrect...

Disclaimer : Now if I owned them, I wouldn't be sitting here, would I??

July 17th, 1771

You know, some times I sit here and I have really no clue what I am doing, or why I am doing it. There are thousands of ideas in this world, it's cramped full with them, and yet, I find myself doing the same thing today as on every day - just writing what comes to my mind. Whether it is beautiful or gay, or ugly, or whatever else. Just writing for the sake of writing. Does that make me crazy? I- I- I think it might.

I'm going to go to sea one day, going to sail off, catch the horizon. And when I do, no-one, and I mean no-one will be able to stop me from being free. And if they try, well, they'll have the force of the gods smashing down on them.

There's a boy at Port Royal who says he's going to be a pirate when he's older. Do you think that's true? I'd like to be a pirate. I am going to be one. But I don't think he'd make a good one, personnally, not like me, he's too angelic. I swear - he has these curls on his head - no, ringlets - and they're so golden and sweet that he couldn't be a pirate, even if tried. And he's too clever. Without trying and all. It's quite amazing, actually, when you think about it. But a pirate isn't clever and that's what he wants to be, so it won't ever help him.

I don't like him though. He's a prat. That's a word - so my mother said - that regroups al kind of pathetic sins. So he's a prat, because he really is pathetic. The other day I accidentally swore at him. I know young ladies shouldn't swear, but it wasn't my fault, I tell you - he walked past me with such an air of snobbiness in him I was quite simply repulsed. Like a magnet. The butcher's boy told me about magnets. Says there devil's work. I shouldn't frequent the butcher's boy, he isn't of my class, my mother says, but I'm going to be a pirate, so I will have to get used to it, because there isn't different class pirates - only good ones and bad ones. I'm going to be the best one ever. I'm going to plunder and murder and- and- and I don't know what else.

If he becomes a pirate, I'll have to kill him first, because he thinks he's better than me, and I don't like that.

But, oh, I forgot, I saw this lovely little birdy the other day and it was so lovely and sweet that I thought my heart would just overflow with delight and joy. And when it cocked it's head...

Oh no, that reminds me of something else. I went to appologise to the Prat - his name is Holmes, but I don't think he should have a name like that, to much graveness in it, the Prat is much better for him - for having sworn at him. Pirates don't apologise, I know, but I felt that as I hadn't meant to swear at him, I owed him at least an excuse - you don't think that makes me a prat do you? And anyway he cocked his head just like the little sparrow!! He looked weird, I tell you. And the light blue eyes he's got didn't make things better. I was going to laugh out loud, but that would have been rude and my mother says you shouldn't be rude even if you are a pirate and don't know how to speak correctly. And - Oh, cripes - that's not a swear word, you know, not really - there's someone coming, I'll write back soon,
Love you to bits,

Me
xxxx

July 18th, 1771

You'll never guess what. They've caught a pirate. A real live pirate! How amazing is that? I'm going to see one for the first time ever! I wonder what it'll be like? Do you think he'll have ragtails or whatever they're called? You know, those masses of tangles. They're rather quite disgusting, I think personnally.

He's to be hung tomorrow, at midday. He'll have the sun to wash him of his sins, as Dawn said. Dawn is quite a dear. She works in the kitchen, but she'd so nice and pretty she could work anywhere and noone would know she didn't belong there. Sometimes I wish that she was my sister. I'd love to have a sister like her, instead of the pig I really do have.

Anyway, back to the pirate. I'm going to save him. I know it sounds stupid, but I have a plan - and the butcher boy always says - in his slang, of course - thur ain't notin' laik a good plan ter beat de bad uns'. So my plan is sure to work. The butchers' boy can be trusted with matters like that.

Right, the details. Well, old Ben there - the butchers' boy - is going to smash rotten eggs against the window of the Commodore - frightfully mean old man. And then I'm going to run in and save him. Just like that! (I mean the pirate, not Ben...) Then all three of us are going to run back to his ship - he must have one, because all pirates do - and Ben and me are going to beg him to let us go with him.

I've packed all my things already - there isn't much, anyway, just a locket from my granddaddy, a book of poems - Wordsworth's, they are so beautiful - from my grandmummy and a handful of sherbet lemons from the grocer who is as sweet and adorable as Dawn. They're going to get married, you know, I hope they have a lovely life, it is a frightful shame I won't be here to see their wedding - won't Dawn be upset! But don't tell anyone, because I'll be in for it.

I'll write back - oh, and I'll take you, of course, don't worry about that... Couldn't do otherwise. Nyway, see you,

Me
xxxx