Anonymous Diaries Novelas e Histórias

My subconscious told me my secrets were already out in the open and everyone I walked past was staring at me, even when they weren't. I'd received a total of three notes from an anonymous sender claiming to be with my diary. During lunch I sat alone by a corner, perhaps if I blended well enough, no one would care enough to potentially ruin my life. I heard the clink of hells on the marbled floor and then the voice I'd already learnt to dread in just the few days I'd been in Crimson Claw. “Hello, Anaya. I hope you're doing well today?” Her voice made me want to throw up. I felt like I'd get diabetes just from listening too long.

Aria Vance never wanted a new family. After her mother marries a billionaire businessman Richard Hayes, eighteen-year-old Aria is forced to leave behind the life she knew and move into the enormous Hayes estate. But there is only one problem. Richard already has a son, Jaxon Hayes. And Jaxon immediately hates Aria. To him, Aria and her mother are outsiders who have invaded his home, his family, and potentially his inheritance. He makes Aria’s first year at Crestwood College miserable, constantly reminding her that she doesn't belong. But Aria has one secret, Blake Reed, Crestwood’s golden-boy hockey captain. She's admired him from afar for months but lacks the confidence to approach h

"Dear Diary: Since it's the first time that I write, I will introduce myself. My name is Annabelle Archer and I'm a British young woman, and I'm going to die soon. My heart is very weak and the doctors say I have a rare condition that was supposed to kill me before my twentieth birthday, but I have passed that mark already. My father keeps looking for more second opinions, that are no longer second, but maybe a hundredth. My mother keeps the house together, and our family together. She acts like nothing is happening most of the time, but I know better.

This room will never be inhabited again. Ayden's eyes caught a worn, blue diary lying lifeless on the floor. The man stepped his leg closer to the diary and picked it up. There was the name Cheryl in front of it. Cheryl Anastasia. The man opened it before he kissed the diary first. The adult male's body trembled as if he could feel Cheryl's presence in front of him. My name is Cheryl, not a cherry, not a cherry blossom, but a strawberry🍓🍓. I like strawberries 🤗🤗🤗

Monday is four fucking days away. "I don't know... " She looks away, tapping her nails against the metal door handle. "Look up who Amar Diamandis is and maybe next time when you decide to approach him you'll keep your damn trap shut knowing he has the power to make you disappear in a blink of an eye." She says rudely as she looks back at me. "I honestly couldn't care less if the man was a hotshot assassin. I answer to nobody. This club will burn without me!" I threaten her.

I take the paper in my hands and slowly unfold it . It's addressed to me , so I take a breath and start reading it. ' My dearest Ana, By the time you read this, you would have reached where you are supposed to be . I know you must be sad and overwhelmed but trust me , it will get better with time. I have faith in you. Stop worrying about us , about Drew , we have your back. I am going to handle everything , so stop troubling yourself with that and move on. I understand why it must have been so hard for you to go through all of it at such a young age. You lost your parents and your aunt, you just discovered that you are a vampire and that you have a family who thought you were dead. It's too

Port in the Storm Dear Diary, I know I’m probably too old for this, but my best friend is on digital detox and I hate almost everyone at work enough not to engage them in my silly misadventures. I would have probably told my mother by her grave, but somehow writing this down feels right and more real. It feels like I am telling a supernatural spiritual being, perhaps an angel? Who knows? They might be real after all.

Aaron was confident the game was made for him, and that is what led him to accept a blind game which eventually brought him to where he was. He had been scrolling on his phone in his I*******m account. Being a well-known player, he had so many fans, and he never had the time to respond to all the messages sent on his DM. On that Thursday afternoon, a message from an anonymous person caught his attention. He went through the profile, which was full of illustrations of one playing mortal combat.

Whitmore stands gaping at my diary. "Oh, wow! I didn't know you were a fan of Miss.OG, Ms. Sanders." He said turning the pages and reading my oh-so-difficulty collected handiwork. I sighed in relief. Good, the jerk hasn't figured it out yet. So I decided to play along. "Yes Sir. I'm a really big fan of hers. Well, you know hormonal teenagers, exam and college stress and all that..." I trailed off, laughing nervously. He frowned, thinking. And I took the opportunity to grab a hold of my diary and make a run for it. I snatched the diary from his hands and turned tail.

I opened the diary to the year where I met Pietro. February 27, 2001. I closed my eyes and tried recalling his face. Whitney sat down while looking at me, she waits patiently. I closed the door and hugged the opened diary. I knelt down and started thinking of that year. Slowly, I started chanting To thee I bestow my soul, salvage my bane life back in time. I beseech thy salvation. I bestow my forlorn life to eternity. Grant me your benediction