Novel & Cerita Anonymous Diaries

I stared at his near-lifeless corpse for a few minutes, then shimmied out of bed, cleaned myself up, threw on jeans, a t-shirt, sandals, and drove down to the local all-night coffee shop, “The Daily Grind.” Grabbing a decaf mocha with whipped cream and chocolate syrup, I sat at a corner table and flipped through a dog-eared newspaper. If someone described me then, they’d say: 21-ish blonde, long hair over my shoulders, nice D-cup breasts, cute face that looks good without makeup, good legs, and a vaguely pissed-off look.

Also, the names of the characters are randomly selected and is entirely out of the blues. Welcome to Dynamic Diary of Tee. Enjoy the bumpy ride ahead!

“I know you’re curious, anyone would be. You absolutely want to know who the person you’re eating from is. But you have to trust me that he is completely safe to be around and would do no harm. If he wanted to tell you, he would have already and it’s not my business to interpret and do so myself so don’t expect me to say anything. I will take all of my friends’ secrets to grave if they want it to stay that way.” They both grew silent as they stared into each other’s eyes. He held so many feelings in his eyes. He reminded her of a book she read called No Matter What. The main character was called Tim. Tim held the secrets of all of his friends, yet no one knew about any. He would go as far as

MY MOTHER'S BESTIE The aroma of Chardonnay filled the air in his office, seeping out into the living room like it's trying to lure me in. Five of Steven 's friends sit around in his office, glasses in their hands, ice clicking in them. They're laughing about some sweet business transaction that they had managed to get, when I walked in barefooted, carrying a fresh bottle of Chardonnay in a tray. I've been yearning for my uncle's dick for two whole months.

He knows not every deepened details relating my birth and everything. I am caroline Forbes. A nobody. A dumb omega. The bastard's child who outturns different from her packs and families expectation. The bitchy weakling omega despised by all. The weakling always threatened by death. Am nature's worst produce. Am the omega disappointment. That's my autobiography and that's who I really am. Not some powerful being suprisingly immune to his mind diving ability he mistakes me for. I hastily stare at him. His expression still awaits my response.

I unlocked it and pulled it open. It was full of A5 diaries, in numerical order, starting from 1994. I opened the first one and it was filled with my handwriting. I began to read it. It began when I was fifteen years old and it described my first teenage relationship. I skipped forward and read the last few pages. It was filled with wolf laws, training with Malachi, stories about Karani, my mother.

Ethan's mind started warning him not to open her dairy but he did not listen to his mind and opened the dairy. When he opened the diary several photographs fell on the ground and all of them are his. Ethan opened the first page of the dairy and saw his picture was attached to it. Ethan looked at Eden then started reading the diary. Hey, Dairy, I am Eden Anderson. Oh, sorry. Not Anderson. I am Eden King now. I always used to think, only happy people write dairy to store their happy moments. But, sometimes you need to store sad moments in your life too. We need to store our mistakes too so we will not repeat them again.

The room fell silent. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. Because after twenty-eight years... They had found them. --- Dani's hands trembled as she picked up the first journal. The cover felt fragile. Ancient. Important. A piece of history. A piece of truth. Slowly, she opened it. The first page contained only a date. Twenty-nine years ago. One year before Sarah disappeared. One year before everything changed. Below the date sat a handwritten entry. The ink slightly faded. Still readable. Still clear.

Andrew looked for newspapers and came back with one printed two days earlier. At a table near the fountain a man sold notebooks and pens. His face was dark from the sun, thin, with a nose that looked recently broken. He tapped a cigarette on the table while he talked. “Diaries,” he said. “Blank. Good paper.” “Old ones?” I asked. He hesitated, then reached under the table. He laid out a small book wrapped in brown paper. “One left. The rest burned.” I opened it. The first page carried a single word written neatly in blue ink: Santuzza. The rest were blank.

wrote Cynthia . "OOOOOOOOOOO" wrote Damon . "What was this OOOOOOOO for ." wrote Cynthia with a narrow eye emoji . "Nothing ." wrote Damon . "Hey do you know who Natasha Warraich is ?" asked Cynthia . "As per my knowledge there is no one in our school with this name ." wrote back Damon . "Something's wrong ." wrote Damon . " Nothing .I just found I diary in my bag that sayd this diary belongs to Natasha warraich .I thought maybe it was displaced ." wrote back Cynthia .