Style Oneshots - Catlala47

📜 The Diary of an Elf 📜

Stan: 9-14
Kyle: 9-14
(Based on their birthdays and what time the story was set in.)

Word count: 6891

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"The words we don't say are often the ones that matter the most."
                                                   -Unknown

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(This story is set in 1852-1857 and also I failed History so don't expect everything to be accurate, thanks.)

Dear diary,

My name is Kyle Broflovski. I was born a rare breed, one a lot of people dislike. Me and my family are elves, see, and for some reason I've been called names, yelled at, and disregarded by humans throughout my younger years of life because of it.

Though it's not all bad. After my family was forced to move away from civilization, we made our own home deep in the forest. It's a cozy home, big enough for our family of four and small enough to be hidden.

We live right by a river. It's pretty thin, but I grew up having picnics by it and lazily floating down it. It's where I found this book, actually. All of the books we own are filled with words that my parents call useful knowledge, so when I found this blank paged book down by the river I decided to secretly take it home with me.

It's a pretty book. A plain black leather cover with yellow, worn down pages. It's beautiful. It's almost like it was made for me to pour my heart and soul into using words.

And I would like to keep talking, empty book, but my mother is calling my name.

Sincerely, Kyle.
7/12/52

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"Yeah, ma?!" Kyle yelled back. He sat in their backyard, it wasn't surrounded by fencing but that never seemed to stop them from calling it theirs. He lay on his stomach, his newly found book in front of him in his hands.

"Could you take Ike to the field? He keeps saying he wants to go, but won't let your father take him!" Sheila, Kyle's mother, yelled back. She stood inside their cottage, hands on her hips, staring at her youngest, Ike. He wasn't their biological son, he had been dropped off at their house back when they still lived with civilization with a note that said "this beast should be with its own kind." They took Ike in, his elf ears and all. They try not to think about his life before he wound up on their doorstep.

"Oh, sure, ma!" Kyle said. He burst through the back door, one they built out of sticks and moss. It usually hurts Sheila, seeing her kids grow up here. It reminded her a lot of her childhood. But Kyle always reassured her and told her he was happy. He wished he was.

Kyle quickly ran to his room, one him and Ike shared, and grabbed a coat big enough for him to hide his book and writing coal inside.

When he came back to their conjoined kitchen and living room, Sheila eyed him. "What's with the coat? It's a little big for this summer weather, honey."

"Really? I could've sworn it was winter, I'm freezing." Kyle lied. Sheila knew all too well what her son looked like when he lied, but let it slide anyway.

"Alright, you two." She said, plopping a small brown ushanka on top of Ike's black hair, causing him to groan. The family rule was that you had to wear a ushanka whenever you left the house, in case someone saw you. The hats covered their ears. "Have fun. Don't stray too far from each other, okay? You two boys need to keep each other safe."