| [13 September 1996] |
[02 Aug 2009|04:47pm] |
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I'm getting out of here. Tonight. The next time that pathetic excuse of a guard struts by, his wand is mine. Consider yourselves warned.
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| [September 1st] |
[21 Jul 2009|10:58am] |
How generous of them to supply me with a quill and refilling ink. I'm ready to be out of this shit-hole, though I must add that with the dementors seeming to abandon their post, it's a bit more bearable. I'm not too sure how many of us are in here. I remember Lucius getting caught, though most of the others scattered. Can't say I blame them. I'm not sure how the Dark Lord will respond to their actions. If it were me, I'd be pleased to have as many followers at my side instead of cooped up in a prison where they obviously are no longer of use. It's torture to know I must be content in knowing I'm merely alive when I could be out there doing what I was called to do. You'd think after fifteen years in this hell I'd be a bit more accustomed to it. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you never get there. At least I haven't.
Jocelyn. I hope she's alright. If only these bloody pieces were connected to other journals. If only I had a way to reach her. The post isn't as reliable these days. Owls are too easily intercepted by the Ministry. I'd hate to know that I was the cause of any further pains on her part. The Ministry has meddled in her life enough because of me. Hang in there, Lyn. I'll be out of here soon, I give you my word. These walls are getting weaker, I can feel it.
August Rookwood
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