Disclaimer: As you've probably guessed, I do not own The Scarlet Letter. I just wrote this for school and decided to post it because hey, why not? Let me know what you think in a review, please!

Hester had no fancy journal, with a hard protective cover and carefully-cut, even, smooth white pages. No beautiful blank white sheets of paper were hers to write upon. Her diary, of sorts, was made slowly and over time out of paper-scraps and bits of her life. The leafs inside were a dull yellow and rough around the edges, forming jagged waves Hester would absentmindedly trace with her finger as she wrote. The cover was no more than simple, worn scraps of fabric, carefully hand-sewn with the greatest detail and worry. The stitches marched down the center of the book in a neat line, like little soldiers made of thread keeping the pages in order. Every time more paper was to be added, whenever her writing surface ran out and she had to find more paper-scraps, another neat row of stitches was added with the greatest care. The fabric was stained, the pages were crumbling, but this book was Hester's treasure and she saw the faults as proof of strength. Through all she had been through, the water-stains and blemishes on her own cover, she has remained strong and still held together.

As a candle flickered on a starless night, Hester carefully dipped her pen into the inkwell and held it to an empty page. Her hand moved faster and faster as the ink flowed out of the pen, telling her story in the way only she could. For only Hester Prynne knew Hester Prynne's troubles, and the battles she often fought deep inside herself. No tears fell to blemish the page and make the ink run, but inside she wept for who she used to be. Gone, now, was her innocence. As she wrote, she told a true tale that no one, besides herself, would ever read. And knowing that, she withheld nothing.

~ Hester Prynne's Journal ~

A Day Which Shall Not Be Named

Today I felt as through I would break for the weight of my troubles upon my shoulders. Standing out for everyone to see, with that letter standing for my shame telling the world I had committed sin, I have never truly had such a test of my courage. Onlookers could mock me, try to get information, but I would not reveal the slightest thing. My secrets are mine, and mine alone. My burdens must be carried for as long as I live, with no one – no, not even Pearl! For I couldn't possibly tell her- to share them to. This is a path I walk alone, speckled by shadows of doubt and loneliness. I have to believe I am strong enough, for if I don't, I surely will not be.

While this letter sewn of scarlet cloth tells the world what I have done, I dearly hope that these challenges will only make me stronger. For the opposite of strong is weak, and that is one thing I hope I never become.

As the candle grows dim, so do my thoughts. I know tomorrow my head will be full of them- doubts and fears and worries and wishes of all kinds! But for now, I must put away my ink, blow out the candle, and close this little journal until it is needed again. I fear it is my closest friend in these dark times.