Anonymous Diaries Novels & Stories

I had already imagined Dylan in my arms. "Hey, How did this girl pass every test? I heard she went through the psychological tests set up by the Weber family and she cleared everything well. Give every other answer." I asked her, Vini threw a giant diary at me. I opened it and found it belonged to Ashley. "Crazy people write diaries. They think it's cool. But they had no idea that they were sharing their life's secrets with everyone who reads it." Vini taunted. Each and every detail of her life was written in it.

If she was Korean, I might still have the chance but hello! It's a good thing Senior didn't write her diary in Japanese, she gives me the vibe of being an otaku because she has the same title and name of a famous romance anime! I could help but silently face palm my forehead. Senior, what were you thinking... I could help but be lampooned. I took a breath and started reading the diary. It was a total of three pages.

Blakely Two months had passed since the news of Jacob’s death began circulating and the authorities still had no leads. They wouldn’t find any. I was initially a suspect, but Isaac managed to place me at the movies at the time of death. Witnesses even corroborated my alibi. Jacob’s decapitated and charred remains were discovered among the ash of our burnt down home. I didn’t know how, but I managed to be okay with this situation. I should have been losing my mind. I should have been a total wreck, but I wasn’t. I was almost perfectly fine. A distant voice told me I should report everything to the cops, but I ignored it. Instead I focused on Damon. There was something about him; something tha

I grumbled, putting the journal in the nightstand. “Aw, look, Darren, he’s all embarrassed for having a diary. It’s okay, Tie. I keep one too. Granted, since I was old enough to start having sex, it’s been more of a sex diary. My personal Kama Sutra, if you will.” André giggled. “André, I think that’s enough. We said we’d sit with your sister till Tiberius arrived. He has, and so we should leave them alone.” Darren sighed with an apologetic look at me.

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.

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.

June 13,2024 Dear Reader, If you’ve found this diary, then fate has strange plans for you. This isn’t a story of heroes, or even of the living. What you’re about to read isn’t fiction — not entirely. These pages carry the weight of things unseen, unheard, and often misunderstood. So before you turn another page, ask yourself: Are you ready to see the world through the eyes of someone who walks among both the living and the dead? If not, close this now.

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

It is old but seems to be well cared for. “Diary? Who uses a diary now? ” I whispered to myself as I hurried to open it. I was not mistaken. It was indeed a diary. Stoney isn’t a pure stone at all. He’s a softie. Funny that there were still drawings around the notebook cover back then. This is really it. I can already feel the MMK-like story of Cormac. . . the story that will win us over to AFA 2020. The first entry in that diary came to me. It was dated sixteen years ago. March 21, 2004.