Anonymous Diaries Novels & Stories

I never doubted her, not for a second. The man in this diary, however, had no malice about him. A diary was a sacred thing. It wasn’t like other pieces of media where people were trying to lie or convince or persuade people to their side, a diary was someone’s only outlet and the closest to the truth they could share because it was with themselves. Alpha Aaron had written this diary for himself, not intending for anyone else to see his truth and his shame. He’d have no reason to lie to himself, and even if he did, it would not be in such a sad, pitiful way.

But the notification preview was visible before I could turn the screen over and the name on it made my stomach drop straight through the floor. It was the academy's official student forum account. And beneath it, already with forty-seven reactions in the thirty seconds it had been live, was the first page of my diary. Posted for the entire academy to read. I couldn't move. It read, 'I am sure everyone has heard of this popular diary. The real person behind these unhinged confessions is none other than Cassie Hale.'

I was having a rage rant, but I couldn't help it, I was just so fucking tired, so damn tired of the stares, the whispers, and people constantly walking on egg shells around me My chair scraped across the tiles as I stood "Do you know that they whisper about me? They stare and whisper as I walk past them, I once heard someone ask "isn't she the one who almost unalived herself?" "What? who said that?" My mum asked "what does it matter? Even in church that's meant to be judgement free, they gossip when they see me, I try to pretend like I can't feel them staring at me, I swear even the priests stare at me and gossip, what is wrong with me? Do I have a problem?"

It was an address written in delicate cursive handwriting, accompanied by the words “Visit after work.” . It belonged to Annie, and its pages revealed a terrifying truth. Annie had been conducting research on a rare and elusive species of creatures, ones with animal-like claws and a taste for human flesh. Annie’s research had led me deeper into the woods, and I had discovered the creatures’ lair. I had been documenting their attacks on unsuspecting victims, trying to find a way to protect the town from the growing threat. My heart raced as I realized the danger that lurked in the woods, and I knew that I had to put an end to it. The diary also had an address that I could not fully recognize.

As she searched through them, her fingers touched something hard. She pulled it out. A small brown diary. Ann stared at it. She had bought it years ago, before she married Daniel. She remembered writing in it during her younger days. Dreams. Plans. Little secrets. Things she couldn't tell anyone. She smiled sadly. She hadn't written in it since her wedding. She sat down and opened the first empty page. For several seconds, she held the pen without writing. Then she finally wrote. Dear Diary, She stopped. The words suddenly felt strange. Then she continued.

Nick picked up a blue diary. He desperately opened it and turned to the first page. That wasn’t it. Nick tossed it aside and found the black journal. He turned to the first page. He exhaled when he realized that it was a continuation of the red one he had read. Nick sat Indian style and zoomed in on the entry.

“I'm so sorry you had to go through this. I had no idea losing my phone would cause something like this. How did the person even get access to all these? My diary was locked and—” “Diary?” Annabel interrupted him. Carson sighed and nodded. Annabel pulled away from the hug and looked at him. “It's an online diary where I write whatever happens to me. Remember when I lied to Roland that we were engaged, I stated it in the diary that he stole you away from me, and I was going to tell him we were engaged, and you were my fiancée. Maybe the person must have seen it and used it to cause a commotion, but my question is, how did the person unlock my phone and what took him or her there?” He question

I think that is how someone like Adrian wins—he finds people whose shame is heavier than their pride and he pushes. I slid the screenshots of the two anonymous texts from my phone—Don’t get involved. and Seriously. Don’t.—out of the printer tray (the machine complained, as if unused to being called into moral emergencies) and stapled them to the second page. The paper felt heavier in my hand, weighted with proof. I wrote:

Dear Diary, It's been a few days since I last wrote to you. Nothing special happens on my day so I can't tell you anything. Only now can I write to you again because what happened to me last night was so good and satisfying. I killed Rhiza even though she did not do anything bad to me. Maybe I was angry with her for what her girlfriend Clarisse did to me. I promised myself that Clarisse will be the one I will kill next so that they will be together in hell after all, that's where they belong. We will also meet there but it will be a long time before I die. I will just kill my classmates first because they deserve it.

I don't care about their judgements and what anyone thinks the world could perish for all I care. I slipped my flip flops and stretched my tired limbs. I had the best sleep in months. Who wouldn't? My plans are close to actualization. I walked to my drawer and picked my sacred diary, diary of sins and ran my fingers on the surface before spreading the first page and his name popped up. "ADRIAN CUBAN." In bold letters and a hot tear rolled down my left cheek.