Dear Journal,
My name is Thomas Malahide. I am afraid I cannot share too much about myself, for my time is limited. For you see… I am writing this journal as a final account of my life.
The date (if I am not mistaken) is the 8th of October, 1738 Anno Domini. I am currently locked aboard the brig of a ship that departed from port ten days ago, which is now leading me towards my final destination. When I arrive, I will be imprisoned for the rest of my days, at which I have been assured will be very short… I have been granted this Journal as a last request before my ”caging”, and eventual execution. I will not share with you the crimes I’ve committed that have earned such a fate, for you would hate and despise me at first glance for good reason. Instead of writing of such things which can never be undone, I shall write of my current despair, whether it be for your dread or satisfaction.
Since I have now informed you of the intent of this journal, I must cease writing, and seek rest, for I am very weak from lack of food. I will write again soon, but until then, I bid you farewell.
-Thomas
