Journal of A Man of Letters

Art and Text by Petite-Madame
An BIG thank you to (in alphabetical order) Becc-j, Maichan and Quickreaver for the English beta.

¡Hola todo el mundo! Journal of a Man of Letters now exists in SPANISH!

Hi guys ^^

After a German, a French, a Chinese and I think a Russian version somewhere, (I’m not sure, I don’t have the link ^^;;), here is now Journal of a Man of Letters in SPANISH! You can find it here:

It’s patiently translated by Kai and it’s great to add this new version to the list! ♥

Espero que a ustedes les guste tanto como a mi :)

Sam Winchester’s Journal – Entry #75

There’s theory and there’s practice, you learn this with life.

About 25 years ago, my father showed me how to handle a knife for the first time. It was in a little motel in New-Jersey, the place wasn’t really crowded apart from a couple of old people who were interested in the local flower festival. I couldn’t say it was the location I would have chosen to teach my son how to throw knifes but when John Winchester told you to do something, you just did it without asking further questions.

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Sam Winchester’s Journal – Entry #74

The five-hour drive home was the kind of final journey nobody would wish on their loved ones. Dean’s corpse fell against me a couple of times, the jostling movement forcing the last bit of blood from his nose and mouth onto his jacket. The stench of dry blood and sweat made me crack a window. And the blanket insisted on falling at every bump, leaving me in constant fear that someone would notice “the dead guy on the front seat” at every traffic stop.

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Sam Winchester’s Journal – Entry #73

Since the day Mom died, Dad trained us to be prepared to face every kind of situation and to keep our cool no matter what the circumstances. That’s what being a hunter meant. And you mastered this at a young age if you wanted to make it to your eighteenth birthday. However, there were rare times in my life, where in spite of all the education I received, I was unable to keep control and stave off the panic and confusion. I can count the times on my fingers: when I was almost killed by a lake monster during my first hunt, when Dean left for Hell and later for Purgatory, and…today.

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你好! Journal of a Man of Letters has now a Chinese version


Just what the title says! Journal of a Man of Letters has been translated into Chinese by Bonnie-Penelope. Isn’t it awesome? ^^ You can find this version:


Enjoy :)

Sam Winchester’s Journal – Entry #72bis

“A thing is not necessarily true because a man dies for it.”
― Oscar Wilde

Sam Winchester’s Journal – Entry #72

Today, my brother died.

I rewrote this first line at least a hundred times, but this is the only sentence I could come up with. Just these four little words: Today my brother died.

Yes, today my brother died.

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Sam Winchester’s Journal – Entry #71

I woke up, unconscious on the floor, my head still spinning from the blow Dean gave me, right to my jaw. I was an idiot. He fooled me, but if there’s someone responsible for this whole mess, it’s me: I shouldn’t have let my guard down because Dean and I had “a moment” earlier, but you can’t blame me for wanting to believe, yes, believe that for a couple of seconds, my brother was back. I guess I’m far too sentimental, and as I’ve written so many times in this journal, family is my weak spot and will always be.

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Sam Winchester’s Journal - Entry #70

Cas and Gadreel left on their own this morning to carry out their reckless attack against Metatron. They call it a flawless strategy, I call it a suicide mission. I’m conscious I’m the kind of man who tends to often see the glass as half-empty but how would you define a plan that involved breaking into Heaven, then into Metatron’s personal office guarded by a whole garrison of angels and finally destroying the angel tablet without anybody noticing?

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Sam Winchester’s Journal - Entry #69

Dean is now locked up in our demon room.

After trashing half of the place and banging against the door for at least twenty minutes, he finally calmed down and tried to bargain his way out by saying that Cas has lost all his army and that we couldn’t take Metatron all by ourselves. He was inescapable. I wish I could say he was not making any sense but unfortunately, he was right: Dean was our only chance in this fight and he was fucking aware of it, as Cas and I were pretty irrelevant here. Seriously, what could we do?  Take the First Blade and go to Heaven to ice Metatron on our own? Without the Mark this thing was as useless as a toothpick.

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Sam Winchesters’ Journal - Entry #68

We reached the bunker after a car trip where almost no words were exchanged. I’m used to it by now. It’s not as if Dean had been particularly chatty in the last couple of months anyway. And Castiel…well poor Cas remained silent in the back seat and stared clumsily at us from time to time from the corner of his eye, certainly wishing he could have flown to the bunker instead of being trapped in the Impala with us for five hours.

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Sam Winchester’s Journal Entry #67

Cas and I cleared out the warehouse, leaving Metatron and his silly riddles behind. It was a dead end anyway, like all the leads we explored thus far. So once again, the Scribe of God had the upper hand on us.

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Sam Winchester’s Journal - Entry #66

“There will be killing till the score is paid.”
Homer, The Odyssey