A page from Wednesday Addams' diary
Dear Demonic Diary,
I hope you have been bored to a painful death just waiting for me to open you up and carve words into your weak tan skin with my sharp quill.
We both know that when the clock strikes nine, and the pathetic little bird lets out its cry, the so-called "day" will be over.
I would rather refer to it as hours of deep pain and suffering for those poor nocturnal bats who are destined to be blinded by the sharp light, but of course, that would be too long a substitute for a miserable day.
Days on which acts of darkness and wickedness can take place are, in my opinion, do-able. Much to my dismay, such days are very rare. But such nights are not, which is exactly why I chose the night to carry out my devious plan.
At exactly eleven, the long corridors will be dead quiet, the ridiculous night lamps will be on- trying their tiring best to keep some of the light of the day in the night, students will be asleep and so will the teachers who unnecessarily waste their lifeless breath trying to educate students about dull facts, while immersing oneself in the realms of the art of taxidermy and preserving deceased creatures, or rituals and practices associated with witchcraft and dark magic can be more than just hauntingly captivating.
At exactly eleven, it will be time to prepare for my dangerous and terrifying plan. It is an extremely risky plan that will be carried out in the darkness of the cold night. But you know me, Dreadful Diary, I have an unholy adoration for danger and perilous risks that I will never be able to resist. And, fortunately, as you also know, I'm not afraid of the dark.
It feels like such a delight and pleasure to sit in this cold, neatly polished chair with a quill in my hand, carving all sorts of imaginative words in you that others might consider dark and treacherous. However, they are just simply providing a dangerous glimpse into my vicious plan.
Dear Twisted Diary, this is not the end.