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// Entry #008 
// Story: Silent: Windy Chyme's Story 
// by Phoenix Heart 27 
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Dear Diary,

Of all the things! So you’ll never believe this, but I got my cutie-mark recently. Normally this would be awesome, but as to what it is and why well….that’s something else entirely! It’s a pair of boxing gloves and a quill. Now that sounds cool right? But guess what it means. Two things actually: I am a very creative writer and I’m a boxing prodigy. I know what you might be thinking and yes, Stormy was just as confused by it as I was. Apparently in two days the following story occured.

Okay so remember when I told you about when dad took me to the gym? Well...apparently he took me there to teach me how to box. Now something you should know about my dad is that despite his name being Breeze, his cutie-mark is that of a red and blue boxing ring. Now I must have been inspired by his teachings because a month later, I was asked to write a report on “Something That You’ve Done that was Good”. In that--very detailed report, I went on and explained how I was gettin’ bullied and the day I finally stood up for myself and fought back. I wrote how daddy first took me to the gym and how I felt when I first put on those boxing gloves. How my first sparring match went. It was all so...so…(big word for the day) exhilarating (which means feeling really happy)! Guess what? I got an “A+”!! I tried to show daddy the paper, but he had went to work again. So, I showed my neighbor, old Mrs. Brownstone. She was so happy, that her and her grown daughter who’s a lot older than me (maybe the same age as my cousin Angie), went and took me and two friends out to eat. That was fun, but I was sad that my dad wasn’t able to see my paper. He could’ve at least left a note saying he was gonna be gone this time! He normally does! I swear that just burns my biscuits! You’d think I’d be over that. Oh how wrong you’d be. I guess he’ll see later. I gotta go now, Stormy wants to show me something.
Love,
Wind Chyme (age 7)

P.S.: We did in fact, fix Bubby. He’s recovering in my “toy hospital” (a.k.a my shelf above my dresser.) in my room.