Old Journal Entries

I recently found an old journal of mine from when I was growing up. I kept it fairly regularly, but occasionally skipped a few days. I'll upload them here for you guys and gals to read.

Entry 1 (Please excuse the spelling errors, as I was four when I began writing this).

Hi! I am Ne Nina Kulteritch. I'm four yeers old and I live on the Island le of Berk. I am writing in a journal so I can remember stuff easier. Well that's all fer now. Bi!
-Ne Nina

Entry 2

Hi again! We had a dragin atak last night. I turned five today, and my Daddy taught me how to shoot a bow and arrow. I like shooting things and Chief Stoick said I was a good shot for someone my age. I think that's a compl compli, a good thing. My first kill, Daddy said, had to be burned to thank the gods for a successful hunt. He said it's a hunters tradishon that's been passed down for generations. My first kill was a bunny. We burned it and thanked the gods for a good hunt.
-Nina

Entry 3 (A few days later. I vaguely recall something about non-stop dragon attacks, and a certain raid that scarred me for life.)

Sorry for not writing these past couple days. Things have been so busy with target practice and keeping the dragons from stealing all our food. They've gotten really good at it, having three hundred years of stealing food under their pruverbeeul belt. Some day, I'm gonna kill a dragon and become the greatest Viking ever! The gods will talk about me long after I'm in Valhalla. I almost went to Valhalla yesterday. A dragon picked me up and almost carried me off. I was trying to get inside and had my bow and arrow set as I was running. Someone throo something at it and it dropped me.
-Nina

Entry 4 (I stopped writing for some reason and began again a few years later.)

It's been a while. I'm nine now, and getting ready to test my wilderness survival skills. I'll be spending the next week in the forest, hunting and fishing for myself. If I'm lucky, I'll be able to bring back a dragon's skull in victory. Killing dragons is everything here, though I wonder why no one has ever tried befriending them. Nadders would at least get me noticed. Gronckles would get me a date when I'm older, Zipplebacks have two heads, so I'd be hailed a hero. Monstrous Nightmares are vicious, dangerous beasts. Only the toughest Vikings go after them as they can set themselves on fire.
Anyways, I'm almost done packing, just need to throw my journal and a frying pan into my bag. I have an ax, an animal skin for shelter and warmth. My father taught me to sleep in a tree when I have no fire or other means of staying safe.

Entry 5 (The same day as Entry 4.)

I think I'm going to be sick. My hands are shaking horribly, but I have a Terrible Terror curled up on my lap, somewhat relaxed. I just accidentally killed a dragon. I'm never doing that again. EVER. Most dragons aren't the vicious beasts we think they are. I would take what I now know back to the village, but no one would believe me. Mom told me that Chief Stoick's wife, Valka, believed that peace was possible, that we didn't have to kill them. She's right, and I wish I could confide in her, but alas, she was killed during a dragon raid one night. Oh! If only I had someone I could talk to about my thoughts! Maybe I'll tell my Terrors about that. Hmm...I like the sound of that. "My Terrors." It sounds nice. I can't show anyone or tell anyone about them, though. I'd be either banished, or forced to watch as they were killed. Someday the Dragon War will end. It might not be in my lifetime. But it will end.
-Nina

Entry 6

I set up a snare for a rabbit, and wound up catching a boar. I had no choice but to jump in with a knife. I slit its throat and jumped off nimbly. The Terrors, my Terrors, slept around me last night in a little pile, keeping me warm. I feel safe around them, like they'd never hurt me. I decided to name the oldest Terror, the one who fell asleep on my lap, Herby, like "Here-be dragons." That sounded funnier in my head. Oh well, the boar is almost cooked. Er...sort of. It's more like it's lightly scorched on the outside, but probably bleeding like crazy on the inside. I've turned it slowly for an hour and a half, sprinkling a little bit of salt for flavor.
-Nina

Entry 7 (Again, for some reason I stopped writing for a while. I pick up again when I'm 10.)

A few days ago life for me as I knew it ended. My parents are dead gone. They went with Stoick on a search for the Nest and didn't return. I'm moving into an underground bunker I made after I returned to the village. My Terrors will be staying there and I'll return to Berk when my breath doesn't catch in my throat whenever I step onto the street I grew up on. I'm ten now. I can't rely on anyone else, only me. I'll share some of my daily kills with the village as a way of saying "thanks for raising me and being so kind to my parents when they were alive."
-Nina