Anonymous Diaries Novelas e Histórias

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.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about. Just some old notes. Private shit.” Private. Yeah right. The word only made my curiosity burn hotter, mixing with the ache in my cock that hadn’t gone down one bit. While he stood up to grab another bottle of whiskey from the bar cart across the room, I leaned forward quickly and clicked on the locked file. A password prompt popped up. Fuck. I tried the obvious ones fast,his book title, his name, the date on the manuscript. Nothing. Then on a hunch I typed in a phrase from one of his filthiest scenes. The file opened.

The door to my room was suddenly pushed open without warning. My brother, Adrian Hoffman, walked in and scoffed when he saw me staring blankly at my diary. "Aren't you a little too old to be writing a diary?" Normally, I would have argued back. But this time, I didn't even lift my head or respond. Seeing my lack of reaction, he grew irritated and ran his hand through his hair before snatching my diary to take a look. On it was a single number—99.

another boy muttered, his voice barely audible. Ava felt a cold dread settle deep in her bones. This wasn’t just about her anymore. This was a systematic dismantling, a public flaying of everyone’s private lives. Mason’s jaw tightened. “They’re not stopping.” “No,” Ava breathed, her gaze fixed on the scrolling text. “They’re just getting started.” Then, the screen refreshed. A new section appeared, bolded, underlined. ***CONFIDENTIAL: DIARY ENTRY – SOPHIA***

Dear Diary, Hi. It's Gabriella. This is the first time I've kept a diary so excuse me if this turns out awkward. I decided to write because something weird happened to me last week - until now actually - and I badly needed someone to confide in since I don't have any friends.

As she passed the threshold, she heard her mom Ebele Johnson scolding her kids “You successfully hacked into someone's private chat and exposed her secret affairs?” She scolded. “We're sorry, grandma, she's a bad woman. She's also mean” Nathan replied, gazing down and fondling with his fingers. “Fine. You are sorry but her engagement has been called off. She'd been with this guy a few years already” Ebele Johnson cautioned. The two boys didn't say anything else. They simply bowed their heads showing total remorse for their deed. They saw their mummy's diary and saw where she wrote her name.

There was a small popping noise, and the diary suddenly snapped open. “April 5, 368 AI,” a cool, female voice murmured and I nearly jumped out of my skin. The diary was floating in front of Jester, the pages turning along with the voice as if there was actually someone who was reading the entries aloud. Now, I am not someone who spooks easy, but I got shivers imagining that the ghost of the previous owner—instead of a spell, as Jester soon explained—was doing that.

They were about my friends or random students I randomly pair up in my head. I was the type of person to judge a person by their looks and I would write out their perfect sex scene based off their looks or character. It sounded weird and creepy but it was my diary and I could make up whatever world I wanted in it. “No, Anna. My diary is my private business and I do not want another person’s eyes on it.” I said balantly to her face and I watched her face turn red. She was infuriated. “But why? I thought we were close friends?”

◆◆◆ Chapter 2 ◆◆◆ I spent the entire weekend hiding in my apartment, ignoring texts from classmates who suddenly found me fascinating for all the wrong reasons. The humiliation replayed on loop as my own words, my deepest, most depraved fantasies, were read aloud in front of everyone while Darian Rho watched with those unreadable dark eyes that seemed to strip me bare without ever touching me. Monday morning, I discovered my diary was missing. Tuesday afternoon, the first text arrived from an unknown number: “Page 23. The elevator fantasy. Creative use of the emergency stop button.”

Everything looks secure. But my AI is never wrong. Just as I finish my diagnostics, a new message appears on the top of the screen from an anonymous writer. Their username is blank, and their image is a dark circle. How did they get the password to this server? Angry and curious, I open the mysterious message.