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The Diary Of A Scotsman [WIP]

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*Opens Diary, the familiar smell of a book is unmissable and reminds one of a time long gone. The first page is an eerie, empty white with a few bruises of dirt.*

*A small blunt pencil is withdrawn from an inside pocket and is placed on the page, breaking the virginity of the page with a solid line of grey*

The Diary Of A Scotsman

8th September 2012:

Well hello I guess? I don't really know for whom I'm writing this but I just feet that I cannot keep to myself what I have witnessed in the past month. Perhaps no one will ever read this yet somehow I feel someone must and even if not. It's a way to keep my sanity in this ever growing silence.

It all started in summer. I can remember the day like it was yesterday, a warm summer's day, a real busy one ya keen, there was something in the air that day everyone was feeling it, the place was buzzing. I remember I had to get up early that morning to help ma mam with the wain as he had been crying all night. He wasn't my mam's baby he was my aunt's but my mam was looking after him cause my aunt had gone to Gibraltar for the weekend. I hated that little shit. Anyway I remember catching the 9 o'clock news that morning. That's the day we first heard of it. That's the day it started.

Before I knew it I had been assigned to some ship coming straight out of the Glasgow shipyard. Ya see, I had never served anywhere before this, of course I had spent a lot of my time in the TA (Territorial Army) but I had never actually shot a gun at another human being with the intent to kill. The reason I was picked was because they thought this would be a simple mission with no actual combat. That's why so many young people were on the ship that day and that's why what was to come was so horrific.

We set foot on soil on the 30th of July. I remember feeling alone even though the whole troop was around me. It just felt as though something was truly wrong here and that I had been kept in the dark. We arrived into the international camp late that evening, so after setting up the tents and the usual fight over the top bunk, we lay down in our sleeping bags. That night was when I first heard it, there was no wind, no animals, no snoring or rustling from the men around me, only silence was present.

We awoke to a fury of orders, chaos was everywhere. Apparently that night had seen some of the heaviest fighting yet and we were next in line. That morning was the first time we saw them and for many it was their last. My first sighting was a young boy, couldn't have been older than 9. His complexion was a pasty white with dark red smeared across his entire body. His eyes seemed to stare right through you and his small childish hands were down by his side.

That is the last solid memory I have, the rest are just sort of flashes. Running - a lot of running, fear, chaos, blood, most things words cannot describe. Yet nothing compares to now. Most people would probably imagine that those days were the worst but they are all wrong. What came after is what I believe killed most people.

There was nothing, the sound of vehicles had gone, footsteps had long deserted my ears, wildlife seemed to no longer exist. All that was left was the silence.

It's been around a month since all of this and a daily routine has seemed to once again establish itself in my life. Perhaps I will write again perhaps not, yet writing this down somehow feels like a victory.


Dougie MacCafferty

*Looks down at the page, scribbles seem to have overcome the purity of the page in a tide of chaos. The diary is then shut and the pencil is returned to its previous habitat.*

*There is movement from the body, it arranges itself in a standing position. It is ready to once more face the silence.*

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