Story of a Farmer’s Daughter:

Dear Diary,

My name is Alisha Walker and in the past month, my life has been crazy. I’m going to record it all down so if I ever regret turning vegetarian, if I ever become tempted, I can read this and settle myself again.

I am thirteen years old. I live on a farm. It was the last day of school before the Summer Holidays and I had told my Dad this morning that we were let out an hour earlier, so he knew to finish the farm things up before I got home. But he couldn’t of been listening. Or if he was, he forgot. I saw him. I swung open the gate, waved goodbye to my friends at the end of the lane, who were partly obscured by the wildflowers growing like confetti down the path. I ducked through the orchard, catching a falling apple as I went. It’s sour-sweet taste exploded on my tongue. I hung my bag up and raced down to the farm to see my sister. But instead I saw Dad. Dad killing the livestock. In horror I watched the blood and the bleats of the terrified sheep. He turned around and saw me standing.

“Oh yes.”

He remembered I was meant to be coming home early. But too late. I’d already been scarred. For days I was haunted by the images, which appeared all the time, never fading. I merely poked at the meat on my plate, immersing myself in the mash potato and vegetables instead. My Mum became impatient, and soon asked the inevitable question. Why wasn’t I eating my meat? I told her everything. She didn’t understand.

Soon my friends asked me the same question. The didn’t understand either. They didn’t see it. Mum said I need to live with it. My friends saw meat is to good to give up. My Biology Teacher says it’s always been that way, before sarcastically reminding me of the thing called a Food Chain. The only one who understands is my Dad, surprisingly. When he was the one who- because of his forgetfulness- caused all this. A month had gone by with only one person understanding in my life. And as I write this, swinging my legs on the front porch and gazing at the setting sun, I’m thankful to my Dad that I saw the true life. What really happens. So now I’m a vegetarian and as the sun fades into the horizon, while the images never will, my story doesn’t end. But to your knowledge it does.



  1. Boutcher Primary School Boutcher Primary School

    Wow! If I saw a sheep being killed I might become vegetarian too. The thought of being a lamb and have your Mum being taken away never to be seen again is horrible!! PurpleDolphin2020

  2. This is a fantastic story catmad, well done for using your storytelling skills and showing empathy. I would be interested to read the diary entry from the Dad for this day – can someone be open-minded and consider what the experience was like from his point of view? Olivia

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