I remember my brother taking my little electric diary thing and stomping on it over and over again. Then I remember I was crying and brought it to my dad and somehow he got it to work. Before that (under my aunt's request) I was going through my cousin's jacket and taking out all of the harmful stuff. Like pins and knives and weird stuff. Setting: At my house. Characters: My brother was my brother, my dad was my dad. My aunt was my aunt. My cousin was my cousin. Feelings and Thoughts: Sad, hate, guilty. Well, I was sad and I hated my brother when he stomped on my magic diary. I felt guilty when I was going through my cousin's pockets.