Capp's Diaries

I would never be able to tell them what I know. They just wouldn’t understand. My family knows who I was; they know me as that little boy with the curly red hair and missing teeth who wanted to grow up to be a doctor. They don’t know me now.
To be honest, I don’t think anyone knows the real me anymore. I don’t trust them to. But it kills me to keep everything to myself, so I decided to write it in this diary. I can be me with this book because I know it won’t judge me or betray me, and as long as I live no one will find it.
I guess I should start at the beginning, with my father. He disappeared when I was fourteen years old. The story goes that he had been walking back from work and he just didn’t make it home. No one knows whether he was abducted or if he just ran away, and the police found nothing to support either story.
I said that no one knows, but that isn’t true. I know what happened, and so do the police.


My dad wasn’t perfect, but then again, no one is. He was gone a lot when I was young, away on long trips to the city to pick up supplies for his business. Even though I never got to see him, I still idolized him. I guess that’s something all kids do, no matter what their parents are like.
I discovered last year that those trips weren’t only for work. Dad was going to Peace Meets. He would gather in secret with the rebels, rallying against our country’s war with Kinfred.
Unless you’ve been living in a cave for the last four years, you would understand the dangers of his actions. Who knows, maybe you have been living in a cave. Ever since the war started, our government has become less of a democracy and more of a dictatorship. We are shown pictures of our brave soldiers conquering enemy strongholds or posing with our superior weapons so that we will feel more patriotic. The government wants unanimous support for the war, so anyone who disagrees is destroyed like my father was.
I’ve always supported the war. My mother taught me that war was the only way to uphold justice. All of my friends support it, as do my teachers. The war is what keeps us safe living our daily lives while somewhere far away there is fighting and turmoil.


I went to a Peace Meet today. I had to trick my mother using Dad’s excuse: by telling her that I needed to pick up supplies for work. She was uncomfortable with me going to the city alone, but I reminded her that I was legally an adult and eventually she agreed. It was difficult to find where the meeting was, but after a few well placed questions to the right people I was able to figure it out.
They were passing around photographs of soldiers in my country’s uniforms with guns pointed at civilians. Some of the photos showed our men forcing Kinnish children to fight for us. Little children! There aren’t any of our children fighting in the war, only the captured Kins.


I’m scared. I hate that I’m scared, but I am. I wish I was brave like Dad was. I wish I could be more like him, but I’m not. I’m like my Mum, who does what people tell her to so she won’t stir up trouble. Everyone wants to leave things alone no matter how bad they are because they are afraid of making them worse for themselves. The thing is, I know I can’t continue like this because now I know too much. I don’t support the war anymore. I wonder if anyone could after knowing what it really is. It’s a massacre.

I’ve been going to Peace Meets every once in a while. I can’t go regularly or Mum might be suspicious, but I attend when I have extra time after picking up stuff in the city. Now that she knows I can make it there and back alive, she sends me to the city a lot.
The things the rebels show me are shocking. I can’t believe what people at war do, and I have no idea how they can live with the guilt. The soldiers’ faces in the pictures are blank, like they’ve cut off all emotion. I guess that’s the only thing they can do.
I suppose I need to lock away my emotions too, but never as much as these men do. I would never let myself become so withdrawn that I could commit such atrocities. I just need to hide my fear and anxiety. I need to learn to be strong like Dad, like the other rebels. If I’m careful I can help in the act against the war but still blend in with my mother and my friends.


They’ve been keeping a lot of secrets. Someone told me today that the rest of the world doesn’t know about the war. No one has a clue what’s going on except for us and the Kins. They’ve denied us all forms of travel across the border. Signs have been posted and laws made, stating that for our own safety we are not allowed to leave the country. The borders are guarded day and night and trespassers are shot without question. Letters and telephone calls to other countries are being intercepted, and we are reminded that this lack of communication is only temporary and that the government is doing its best to keep us safe.

Still, just like the government told us to, we act like everything’s okay. If we don’t, we’re dead. It sickens me that so many people have complied. Now that I know how ugly this war really is I can’t stand to pretend that everything’s okay, but I have to act like the others, who believe that it is okay. They don’t know the things I do, and probably never will.

I can’t take it anymore. Why can’t people stop hiding the truth? Don’t they understand that the only way to fix the problem is to confront it? We’ve been supporting a campaign to completely wipe out our neighbouring country and no one cares. We hide it like it’s no big deal, but it is. The only reason no one feels ashamed is because they don’t let themselves think about what’s going on. Out of sight, out of mind.

Well, I’m not going to let this happen. I refuse to hide the truth any longer. I will set an example for others and I can only pray that it’ll work. I have to before it’s too late.

Today is the day. I’m going to the city to meet up with some rebels in my group. They, like me, are sick of sitting around and discussing the matter. We’re going to let truth out whether they like it or not.

As soon as I’m done with this diary entry I’m going to write a letter to my mom and explain to her why I’m doing what I am. She’ll be upset at first, and then she’ll be livid, but I know she’ll understand. She loved my dad, after all.

I’ll go to the city, possibly for the last time. I’ll meet with my group and we’ll storm the news center. If we have to die in the process, so be it. As long as one of us makes it in front of the camera to declare the truth. Someone has to know what’s going on, and when they do, I hope to God they’ll be able to fix it.

This may be the last standing record of my life. If you are reading this and you have no idea that the country or Kinfred once existed, then they won. So be it. I will have died for a cause rather than lived for a lie.

Capp's Diaries


Joined January 2008

  • Artist

Artist's Description

This short story, written for my Grade 12 English class, is highly similar to George Orwell’s novel 1984. Oddly enough, I wrote this months before reading 1984.

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