Bihar Diaries Novels & Stories

MAYALINA May 14th 2018 I pick up the large sack of rubbish from the bar, fling it over my shoulder and wobble my weak butt to the back entrance where the large skip bins are. I walk through the halls and look into the rooms as I pass them by. All the doors are open except the room that used to be mine. Things have been really slow on our side of the wing lately. It's like we've all dispersed for our own painful reasons.

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!

Austin shook his head and picked up his papers again, "we'll talk about it when we get to the hotel." Marybeth didn't think they had anything to talk about. After all, her reproductive health was her decision and hers alone. But to keep the peace, she nodded and eased back in her seat, "Fine. We'll talk at the hotel then." With both father and daughter preoccupied with their projects, Marybeth got down to some work. She dug out Iris' journal from her bag and stared at the elaborate cover before plucking up the nerve to open the book. A relieved sigh spluttered through her lips when she skimmed through the first few entries—several poems written in Afrikaans, random scribblings and quotes by

Malia's heart skipped a beat as she opened the book, revealing page after page of handwritten notes. It was Bianca's diary. Malia's eyes scanned the first page and her heart broke as she read the words. Bianca had started writing in this diary when she discovered she had a brain tumor, a condition that could potentially erase all her memories. The thought sent a shiver down Malia's spine. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like for her sister to live with that fear.

he rasped, his voice like gravel. "Shut up," I hissed. I reached for my belt. I unbuckled my trousers and let them slide down my hips. I stepped out of them, standing before him in nothing but my bra and a pair of matching lace G-string. I was already soaking wet. The scent of him, the thrill of the arrest, and the memories of three years ago had me ready to burst.

I found a few notes of cash so I took out a few notes from that drawer. When I was getting money from the drawer something fell on the ground. I bent down and picked up the book from the ground. I saw that it was a diary. I opened the diary. On the first page, it was written that it solely belongs to Aaron Malhotra. Whoever reads this diary without its owner's permission will face severe consequences... I kept the diary on the bed and gave money to the maid. I told her to bring me 2-3 packets of sanitary pads.

Mia's POV I lock up the door of this old, abandoned house. Running for days because of the zombie outbreak. I find a room with bars on the windows. It looks safe, but then I hear a noise. Zeke stumbles in from the closet. He was bitten last week. His skin is gray and peeling; pus leaks from sores on his arms. He smells of rotten meat and shit. His eyes are milky white. He groans low. I retreat backward, holding my heart because it's pounding. I grab my knife but he's quick.

The attacks against us were not only physical, but most of our businesses had stopped, Basheeru, the leader of the bikers, my loyal friend was betrayed and killed, and the other bosses were already in hiding. Most of them were also betrayed by men close to them and they barely escaped assassination. Everything was crumbling around me, but that was not the worst of it. A blogger started publishing stories about us... He used different names of course, but the details were so accurate that all it needed was for anybody to pay attention and they would know who the publications were about.

It is her childhood diary. I page through the book as my eyes skip over entries about her daily chores and her quiet observations of our family. Then, my heart stops when I saw the date of the warehouse fire from our youth. I read the ink words. The diary say, ‘Leandro was unconscious under the heavy wooden beam. I tried to lift it with my bare hands, but the skin on my palms began to blister from the heat. I found a rusted iron pipe on the floor near the brick wall, using the pipe as a lever. I pushed down with all my weight until the beam shifted off his legs.

I started guessing. I typed in my date of birth—just because. And the safe clicked open. What the hell? I stood frozen for a second. That was not what I was expecting. Inside, there were no weapons—just letters and….. Diaries. Rows of them. I pulled them out one by one, hands trembling slightly. The thick scent of feminine perfume floated out—sweet, lingering, unmistakably Beatrice’s. It clung to the pages like a ghost. Whatever these diaries held, I couldn’t read them here. I had to go.