Short stories!

Sinking

It is the year 1912 and the unsinkable ship the Titanic has set sail. A young boy on board is keeping a diary of the events.

                                                                                                      April 10th 1912

Dear diary,

I could not have been more excited for this trip! We are aboard the Titanic and earlier on today, I hard mother call it unsinkable and the greatest ship ever built. I get all shivery just by thinking about it- I'm on a ship that will go down in history!

I am sitting on my bed as I write in my new journal that Father gave me for my eleventh birthday. I was so happy to finally have ne of my own- I had always loved writing. Faintly, I can hear my younger brother Edward crying in distance, and my mother trying to comfort him. If I am honest, I couldn't care much- Edward was annoying and cried all the time.

The only reason we had boarded the Titanic was because my parents were sick of Southampton and decided going to Ney York City would benefit us all. Because my father was an engineer, we had enough money to be in first class. I have never been so grateful for my father before: I aould hate to be in third class: they are more likely to drown if ever we sink- we probably won't though.

I have to go now- I can hear mother calling me to take care of Ed for a while.

Signing off for now,

James F. Hawthorne

April 14th 1912

Dear diary,

I don't think this trip is going as well as we expected. Already there have been some huge waves and icebergs and I overheard one of the crew talking to my dad and mentioning, "Over six iceberg warnings so far." 

I am confused now: if there were over six icebergs warnings, why aren't we turning around? Surely it's safer that way? But when I told my father my thoughts, he simply sighed and told me I was too young for these kind of things, and I shouldn't have been listening anyway. That's the good thing about my father- he never shouted or hit me but only gave us stern warnings and lectures on why we shouldn't do a certain thing.

Even as I sit here, I can feel occasional spine-chilling bumps, as if we were sailing over mountains instead of water. Something tells me that it will not got better from here.

Suddenly, there is a huge crash, and mother lets out a shrill scream. I think we have hit an iceberg finally. I must leave now though: father is calling ms, and his voice sounds urgent and firm.

I have a feeling this may be the last time I write. If so, I just want to say: I loved this life and I want this ship to be remembered.

Signing off (perhaps forever),

James F. Hawthorne

You reader, might know what happened next. The Titanic, that was once the greatest ship of her time, sank beneath the waters of the North. Only 706 people out of 2,240-  either from the extreme cold of the water or from drowning. By 1984, there were only a few survivors of the Titanic still alive. One of them was James...

January 22nd 1984

Dear diary,

I never thought I would see this again, but an old friend of mine came across it and returned it to me. As soon as I had gotten it, I checked to see the last date: April 14th 1912. So it has been 72 years since I last wrote, when I was a young boy of eleven.

I have survived quite a lot, now that I think about it: the fall of the Titanic, World War One, World War Two and many other things. I remember each thing like it was yesterday, as if each thing had happened recently.

Sometimes, I wonder what my younger self would think of me now. As a child, I had always hated young children, and then I went on to have both children and grand-children, and I had become an engineer just like my father had been. Sadly, both my parents died in the Titanic.

One thing that makes me truly happy is that I noa have prove that I kept a diary; my wife couldn't believe it when I told her I wrote a diary on the Titanic. Then again, I have changed quite a bit over the past seven decades. Hmm. It sounds quite ridiculous when you put it like that.

Fortunately, I am not the only survivor of these things. My younger brother Ed is still alive too; some people joke that our family is indestructable. The only thing bothering me is that while I have changed, Ed still finds great amusement in harrassing me endlessly.

I am now reaching the end of my time here on Earth. Everyone says so. Because of this, I know this will be the very last time I write in this diary.

Signing off now and forever,

James F. Hawthorne