The Diary of Sue Chancellor | Teen Ink

The Diary of Sue Chancellor

March 4, 2009
By l3eyond GOLD, Northfield, Minnesota
l3eyond GOLD, Northfield, Minnesota
14 articles 2 photos 0 comments

Scared little Lida Lord was clutchin onto this blank and battered book in the basement while we
were hidin'from the far away sounds of guns firin'durin'one of those attacks. She was so
scared; she didn't notice me slip it out of her hands. I have always wanted to have a diary.
Everybody in this big house of fourteen has their own problems, so there really ain't no one to
talk to, so I figure copin'by writin'it all down outta do the trick. Mother always tells me
not to go complainin'anyway, especially with the war goin'on. Everybody you lay eyes on has
problems. Everybody is sufferin'in their own way and there ain't nothin'you can do 'bout
it. But yet, I still want to escape to a place where bein'happy don't feel like a sin. Where
when you smile at someone, their face don't harden like a rock. Well, that's all this world is
to me anyway. Rock.

Dear diary,

I keep wanderin'off to that place I was talkin''bout earlier and wonder if I'll ever see
the day when the rock goes disappearin'and the sun comes a-shinin'right into my eyes.
Wouldn't that be j'st gorgeous? The other children in the house always are askin'why I sit
here and don't do nothin', so I tell 'em 'bout my place inside my head, but they j'st
don't understand. People think I'm crazy, but what do they know? I'm the only one around here
who has hope and hope is what makes people keep on livin'. Maybe I'll be the only one left after
this mess is over. Who knows'. Anyway, them gunshots j'st keep gettin'closer and closer
everyday. It's makin'all the women and children jumpy. I've started growin'accustomed to
livin'in the basement 'cause of how often the fightin'gets. Nobody lets me eat any of the
stale bread, but it's all right 'cause I don't got no appetite anyway. To keep the spirit up,
I try to make light of it, but everybody j'st goes talkin'behind my back 'bout how nobody
outta listen to little Sue. Mother keeps tellin'me to 'shut my mouth or daddy will come back
from the dead and bring you back to the ground with him.'I think I know better. I ain't no
prissy girl, j'st a fifteen year old woman that's bound and determined to fight through this
without any harm done, if that's even at all possible. It's worth a shot. I figure there has to
be at least one crazy, hopeful, and reckless person in each household; I might as well be that
person in mine since I already got the title.

Dear diary,

Today was the first time I had heard Mother laugh in 'bout a year. She laughed at my face for
standin'up for myself. But right then, I was spared by someone bangin'on the door. Mother ran
upstairs and I followed. It was like my mental self came crawlin'into our back door in physical
form, 'cause the young man that spread across the floor was broken into pieces, but somehow alive,
the hope burned on his face. Now, that same soldier restin'in front of me slept with his eyes
open, starin'at my every move. I didn't mind. He was the first of many, though. The big house
was soon full of wounded soldiers and citizens. Doctors came in. The operatin'room that once was
our sittin'room had whimperin'people in it, and the amputatin'table that was once the piano
bench had dried blood on the seat. The surgeons gave Mother a small bottle of whisky and told her
that she needed to drink some and so must the rest of her family. Mother drank it happily and we
followed. They brought more of the wounded upstairs and we could hear their cries from the basement.
I never thought I would ever experience such horrors. We hid downstairs that night, hopin'to
distance ourselves from the vile smell of blood, gunpowder, and fear.

Dear diary,

Right now I fear for my life, for they are battlin'so close to our home. As the shells shook the
ground, little Lida Lord began to cry and it broke my heart. Her mother, hopin'to calm her, said,
'Don't cry my darlin', God will protect us.''But Mamma,'sobbed Lida, 'I's so
afraid God's killed too!'Everyone heard her, and more sobs arose. I saw the two strangers in
our basement crowd closer in the corner. I sat in the middle of the room, alone. I cried silently,
not wantin'anyone to know that Sue Chancellor, the girl of hope, had given up, too.

Dear diary,

As the sounds subsided, I was the first to go wanderin'upstairs. In passin'the upper porch, I
could see the chairs riddled of bullets, the piles of amputated arms and legs, and the rows of dead
bodies covered with canvas. The other fifteen started climbin'up the stairs like it was a
mountain. There was no shock, j'st recognition. I wondered how this could be my home, the one I
had lived in for fifteen years. That's when I suddenly caught wind of somethin'in the air.
Smoke. I remember Father tellin'me 'bout how shells burst and could make things catch on fire.
I started screamin'for everyone to get out, but they j'st glanced at me and went back to
starin'at the blood stained canvas-covered ground. So I j'st walked out, and I was happy to
hear footsteps follow me. I turned around to wait for the rest of the people to smell the smoke,
seein'that it was my five sisters that had followed me out, but the house was already engulfed in
flames. The terrified woman and children stumbled out of the buildin'as the old wooden pillars
collapsed. I held my siblings close as they cried. Mother rolled out of the smoke, coughin'. She
stared at me, knowin'that I had been right all along. 'Bout everythin'. My mother, my five
young sisters, and I are now homeless refugees.

Dear diary,

We got nowhere to go. Nothin'to eat but rock. This is not the world I had hoped to have. Mother
always said that you can't always get what you want. I guess she was right. Because we got no
wagon or horses, we been walkin'for what has seemed like forever. I dunno where Mother is
takin'us, and I dunno if she knows, either. At this point, I do believe God really has been
killed. My bones feel brittle. I am becomin'weak and I know that the rest of my family is
feelin'worse than I. I know that we most likely ain't gonna survive. Gunshots keep explodin'
around us, and we will either die from starvation or from bein'shot. Hope has done nothin'for
me. I mind and body have given up, and there is no way out of this terrible world 'cept for the

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This article has 1 comment.

on Aug. 2 2010 at 12:58 pm
kielymarie SILVER, Sandy Hook, Connecticut
6 articles 0 photos 85 comments

Favorite Quote:
"When you do dance, I wish you a wave 'o the sea, that you might never do nothing but that." -William Shakespeare

This was great! You really captured the personality. I was just wondering which war this is set during... there aren't any clues to tell the reader.