Coming of Age Sad Teens & Young Adult

November 28th


I have just received this journal for my birthday, and I am not sure how to preface it. Dear Diary? That sounds childish.

Hello will get old quickly.

What about Dear Kitty? I learned about a girl a few years ago, Anne Frank, who prefaced her journal like that.

And so I shall try it.

Today is my fourteenth birthday. My mama gave me this journal. It’s grey on the cover, with my initials: MG. Mara Grace.

I live in the United States, but you probably know that, don’t you?

Anyway, our president is Ronald Stump, who lives up to his name; he is a portly fellow, a handlebar mustache he obviously waxes.Β 

My family does not like Ronald Stump.

They say he will be the end of us.

I agree.

But of course this thinking is not encouraged. Ronald Stump has a personal guard who patrols the streets. They call themselves the Patriots.

As if being a β€œpatriot” is loyalty to a man who smears jar of wax upon jar of wax onto his face every day.


November 29th

Dear Kitty,

Today I saw my friend Emma and her family being dragged out of their homes.

Emma’s father is a leader of the movement to prove everyone is equal, and Ronald Stump does not like that, no. He believes that the rich white men should be on top. Not females, not Latinos, not African Americans, not the poor or the the kind. No, it must only be those with money. Those with power, those with fair skin.

We stopped involving ourselves with the Fairness Act a while ago, out of fear of retribution. Now we see that we were cowardly to back down, it was also the right choice.

Emma will no doubt leave her nice home, her home with its fine drapes, her comfortable bed, her life entombed upon the walls, for a dark prison of sadness and hopelessness, a place of rats and lice, or stiff mattresses and very little food.

It made me wonder, what will happen if we are taken as political prisoners, just as Emma and her family were?

The camps started to appear last year, first popping up in New Mexico, then Dakota, then Maine.

These camps are known and feared by everyone. This is what Ronald Stump uses as a motivator.

Speak up, He says. Speak up against those who wish to corrupt our fine nation.

Speak up, He says. Speak up against those who will threaten our pure futures.

Speak up, He says. Speak up against those who will ruin our happiness. We will punish them. You know how.

I do know how. There is not a single person in the nation who does not know how.

They will be forced into a train car. They will be forced to endure lice and sickness and hunger on the way to the prison.

They will be forced to shower in a liquid so scalding hot it feels like acid. They will then have their head shaved, and numbers tattooed on to their skin. The letters U.S., so they will always be known, even if they manage to escape.

Oh, but the difficulty to escape. Guards armed with weapons that take less than a second to load and fire.

Over the wall-

You think you are free-


You didn’t have to do much to be put on the list for these camps. Openly LGBTQ+? Check. Person of color? Check. Left Winger or Liberal? Check.

I wish no one had to endure this. Will the other countries notice what is happening in ours? Will they fight a third World War to free the prisoners?


December 3rd

Dear Kitty,

I am sorry I have not been writing. We have been preparing.

Preparing for what, you might ask?

Preparing for hiding.

On November thirtieth, we were ripped into a frenzy after Mr Petersen, a close friend of my fathers, knocked on our door.

Rap rap rap rap.

My father opened the door and ushered him inside.

β€œI have no good news,” Mr Petersen began.Β 

He turned to me. β€œYou are on the list, Mara.”

β€œMe? On the list?” I said, shock crawling through my body.

β€œYes, Mara, and the reason?” Mr Petersen said.

I clenched my eyes shut. Mama and Papa did not know this. Only my schoolmates did. And now Mr Petersen. And soon, my mother and father.

β€œMara?” Papa said gently.

β€œThe cause space on the list said LGBTQ.” Mr Petersen said.

My mother gasped, her hand flying up to her dainty little mouth.

β€œMara,” My father said. β€œIs this true?”

β€œYes,” I said.Β 

My mother gasped again, and I swear she was going to faint.

β€œAhem,” Mr Petersen said. β€œAnyway, I have been told they will be coming for her in five days time.”

β€œThank you, Fred.” My father said, and dug around in his pockets. He finally pulled out a lump of bills and paid Mr Petersen.

And since then, we have been throwing our life into cardboard. Into the back of the family car to go somewhere else, anywhere but here.Β 

It is my fault we are leaving. Mama and Papa will not say so, but I see them sneaking looks at me, hear the whispers they exchange in the dead of the night when they think I cannot hear them.

I should leave, shouldn’t I? I should just go, so I will not be bothering my family.

I will think on this tonight.


December 4th

Dear Kitty,

It is decided.

Tomorrow, in the early hours, I will collect a change of clothes, a water bottle, cash, you, of course, and any other necessities and set out on my way. Maybe towards Canada. Or Mexico. Or New York, where I can catch a ship to Europe.

It will be hard to get to Europe from my home in Fairfield. But I will have to try.

I know where Papa hides the coffee can with two thousand dollars in it. I will go with that.

I am going to enjoy my last day with my parents.


December 7th

Dear Kitty,

Things have gotten unfathomably worse.Β 

I left the house two days ago, but I have seen more and more railcars as I cross California. Fingers stick out of the gaps in the dirty wood. Wails overpowered the thudding of the wheels against the track.

I do not go by Mara Grace anymore. No, now that the Patriots are looking for me, I have become Olivia Stanford.

I walk, but I also hitchhike. Today I will buy a plane ticket to New York.

-Mara (should I start putting Olivia here?)

December 7th (later)

At the airport, it is so busy. I am writing this from my seat on the plane.

When I first arrived, it was hard to buy a ticket with a falsified name. I had no identification for Olivia Stanford. My only identification was for Mara Grace, but I left that at home.

After navigating through ticket sales, I had to go through security.


Then I had a scare at boarding.

Two Patriots lined the ramp onto the airplane.

I gathered myself and walked towards them.

β€œName?” One of them asked.

β€œOlivia Stanford.” I said.

β€œHave you ever come in contact with Maria Lopez, Charles Rodriguez…” The list went on and on, and frankly, I zoned out until they said, β€œMara Grace.”

β€œNo.” I said perhaps a little too quickly.

β€œAre you sure?”

β€œYes, sirs.”

β€œHave a nice day.” One of them smiled at me. I wondered if he’d have smiled if he knew who I really was. If he’d have smiled or beat me repeatedly.

-Mara/Olivia (does that work?)

December 8th

Dear Kitty,

Today I landed in New York, and, oh, my.

The lights are so bright, brighter than I’ve seen in a while.

They also have a wall in Times Square, the Patriots do.

Virtual flyers with the names of those who have run from the prisons. I saw myself.

I am at the base of the Empire State Building right now, sitting on a hard curb. The bustle is so loud.

I see two Patriots.Β 

And they see me.

And they're walking over here

December 11th

Dear Kitty,

I am here.

I am at the place of grunge and stink.

I am lucky to be able to write still.

After the two Patriots arrested me in New York, I was brought here, to a prison camp in cold, cold Maine. It is called Alpine, as if a nice name can erase terror and violence.

Every day, at precisely two o’clock, the crematorium starts up.

Every day, at precisely one o’clock, the gas chambers open and Patriots force prisoners inside.

I do not know how much longer it will be before it is my turn for the gas chambers, then the crematorium.

Until then, I will do what they say, eat meager amounts of food, and write in you, of course.


December 14th

Dear Kitty,

They have posted today's death list.

And I am on it.

I mean, how long did I think it was going to be? I wasn’t going to comfortably live the rest of my life


Five years later

A girl walks the ruins of a camp in Maine. She knows, this is a camp where many people died. Five years ago, people were sent here for unfair reasons.

She knows, the British luckily caught on at the end of that December. They started a war with the United States.

Then most of Europe joined the war, and only Russia allied themselves with the U.S.

They fought a bloody war for years, until Ronald Stump was assassinated while trying to flee to Russia.

After that, the U.S. surrendered, and all the Patriots were taken into custody. Camps like these were officially shut down.

Now, as the girl walks the ruins, she finds a small object.

She unearths it and sees it is a small gray notebook with the initials MG embossed on the cover.

Curiosity creeps through the girls eyes as she picks up the dusty journal.

She flips through a few pages then hugs it tightly to her chest. She runs, careful not to trip on any loose rock, back to where her mother is waiting.

Her mother takes the book and studies it. Then she hands it back to her daughter. We’ll look at it more when we get home.

And together they drive towards home.

February 06, 2021 15:03

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TJ Squared
04:37 Feb 17, 2021

Hm. I don't know what to think of this. I saw the Ronald Stump and *cough* you know who similarities, but question: Is that how you really feel about him? The diary was greatly written, and I liked the use of details. Great job!


Thank you! And yeah, honestly I respect your opinions if you disagree with me, this story is sort of opinionated so...yeah.


TJ Squared
16:07 Feb 17, 2021

yea, everyone has their right to their opinion, so I respect that. It is the first amendment, after all (freedom of speech, freedom of press, freedom of assembly, freedom of religion, and freedom to petition).


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Kay (:
19:44 Feb 16, 2021

Can you please read my story 'Falling Wave" no one has and I worked really hard on it.


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Notes: This is not historical fiction, and this is not world war two. This is what I think world war three would look like. so in a way, its kinda dystopian. I'm sorry if it jumps around, I just kinda had this thought, so, um, here it is! enjoy!


Sia S
18:01 Feb 06, 2021

Wow! I just *had* to read this since my bday is Nov. 28th!! Okay, here's what I got .... Really good! Lived the concept and everything! Maybe you should change the ending a little, well, bit change, describe a little more, like: Curiosity crept through the girls eyes as she picked up the dusty journal. Like this . Really cool tho! Maybe change the title? It looks a little common. Maybe something like Patriotism or Patriots M.G The long, lost journal Mara Grace as Olivia Stanford These are just my 2 cents! -S


Sia S
04:49 Feb 08, 2021



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Anne frank but in the future? C R E E P Y


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Rich Conti
13:40 Feb 18, 2021

It's very well-imagined and thought out. A few of your similies are awkward but fit the style of a 14 year-old. Have you read Starhawk's novel The Fifth Sacred Thing? It's set in a future similar to the one you describe. It's old but worth reading. They were supposed to be making a movie of it but I haven't heard anything about it in a couple of years. The only thing that bothers me about your story is that the diary would probably have been taken from her when she was arrested. Ann Frank was in hiding so she could write all she wanted. Mino...


thank you! no, I haven't red that book...but i'll definetley check it out! Gosh, your right. :/ i hadn't thought of that. Thank you!


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Jasmine Chettiar
07:17 Feb 15, 2021

Dangit. No, you made me cryyy!!! OMG this is so well written, I love it so much! You are such a brilliant writer, oh my gosh!


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Sunny 🌼
17:01 Feb 12, 2021

10/10 the WORST possible way someone could ever come out- Ok now onto the story! Very good job! The whole thing kinda felt like a modernized version of the Holocaust (also Ronald Stump? Donald Trump? I noticed that...). Mara/Olivia was a very cool protagonist. Oh, and the ending was very bittersweet! Good job all around!


Thank you! (I really wasnt feeling creative when coming up with a president ahahah) Thank you so much! And I agree, that would be really embarrassing........


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Maya -
04:36 Feb 11, 2021

Reedsy-cast out! :D


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Maya -
19:45 Feb 10, 2021

If you would like to play at 3:30 EST I'm going to put the link in my bio (at the bottom XD) :)


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Mango Chutney
08:25 Feb 10, 2021

Love this format.. You have actually shown this well through the eyes of a child :)


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23:42 Feb 08, 2021

Omgsomgsomgsomgsomgs AMAZHANG!!! I love how it’s written like a diary. The epilogue is wonderful. Scenery = chef’s kiss. Actually, scratch that. This entire story = chef’s kiss And if you read my bio, saw my profile pic, or just read this comment, you would know I love the PJO universe books!! Glad that you seem to like them, too! πŸ§ƒ


Hahahahahah PJO books are my entire life! Thank you so much! ahahaha amazhang


00:38 Feb 09, 2021

Your welcome! And yes I just can't resist going for a day without using the word "amazhang" πŸ˜‚


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hi carolina! i love the diary format, it really fits your style well :) the epilogue brought everything together really well, I'm happy you included it! p.s. i posted a new story! :) ~ Amethyst/Cheshire cat


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