Dear Diary Book Novels & Stories

I open the book again and flip back to the first page of the book deciding to read the inscription handwritten there in neat small letters; "This diary belongs to Jennifer Bennet, beginning 21st February 1975" I glance at Thomas, who has been watching me as I inspected the book, and I see he looks just as shocked as I am. I am currently holding the previous Luna's personal diary. Her son, our current Alpha, is sharing this most personal possession of his mother's with me? Encouraging me to read her private thoughts and feelings? I admit, I was intrigued before but now I am torn. Do I read the Ex-Lunas diary? Can I really do that? Diaries are so intensely personal and private.

I jotted back a quick thank you. I walked into the living room. The wall opposite the kitchen was entirely shelved with books and journals, old diaries collecting dust. Classics, contemporary… you could read a new book the entire year without repeating. My fingertips grazed over old, embroidered leather covers and brilliantly decorative dust jackets. Here, I could stay in this room forever, lounging below the wide cabin window like a lazy house cat near the heat of the crackling fire. I opened a random book to a dog-eared page which was folded to an entry dated, November 5th.

I can only conclude because this is not written in the diary either. "Does Duna actually know what a diary is?" I complained. After storing the ID Card and mercenary ID in the drawer, I took some packets of cookies from the cupboard and read the diary again. If I look again, the first few pages have been torn. Maybe Duna used to write a diary, but suddenly made this book into a notebook. Starting from the Xenobeast category, mercenary system, base system, to how to use guns and laser swords. January 27, 3043

She said. "Smart." I laughed. She opened the book and took a black diary from it. On the cover the name 'Rosalina' was engraved.

My mouthwatering from the site. Walking back over to me, Angela hands me the book. It was black. Soft leather with nothing on the cover to signal what it was. Explaining to me that it was a diary. Before explaining to me that I should write down everything that goes on with me, so I don't have to bottle up my feelings.

*** The hard cover book stared at him as he contemplated writing on it. He needed someone to hear his thoughts, if not someone, something. He gently opened the book and flipped pages after pages that he had written when he was sober and other times when he wasn't, his words were crude and blunt. Dear diary, I realized something too late, and it is the fact that I don't want to move on. I want to continue to love her and her, me. Every happy moments should be with me Clarissa, and not someone else....

“Hello, I’m Mariana, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Please don’t be mad at Marylin, she’s been nothing but an angel to me, if it weren’t for her, I’m not sure I would have been able to return home.” “No problem,” Dana said. “I can never be mad at her for helping you.” “Thank you!” Mariana went in again and returned shortly with a small book in her hand. She gave it to me and before I knew it, the little book began to expand and increase in size until it was just the right fit for me. It had the words ‘DIARY’ written in front of it. “It’s a magic diary,” she told me. “I’m sorry,” I told her. “I’m going to have to refuse this, I could never keep track or even keep a diary.”

“Choked on air.” Aislen smirked. Their turn came and the receptionist looked up expectantly as they leaned over the counter. “Baby Book?” “There’s a book?” Aislen blinked. “I have a book,” Heath said, frowning. “About babies.” “The one your GP gives you,” the receptionist was patient. “Your GP did give you a Baby Book didn’t they?” Aislen shook her head. The receptionist nodded wearily and reached under the desk producing a blue diary. “This your first appointment?” She asked opening the diary.

The old sketch book and the old diary. “I think that has all the answers you need….or at least some of it.” My throat grew both numb and painful at the same time, my fingers trembled as a tear drop stained the worn cover of the diary. The dust covered it lightly after I wiped it off, but I could see the old pink color and the long ropes attached to the book. I pulled it apart and watched as the book fell open. My breath caught in my throat when I started the first page. It wasn’t filled with words, but tiny doodles and drawings all around. Flowers, socks, books, stars, little hearts, and right in the center of the page were three names written over and over again;

Something inside caught my eye. Curiosity stirred, subtle but undeniable. I pulled the drawer open. Inside, among scattered papers and pens, lay a book. I reached for it, my movements slower now, more deliberate. On its cover, faint but unmistakable, was a single word. A word that made something deep in my chest tighten. Diary. And for reasons I could not fully explain, I already knew. Whatever was written inside… Would change everything.