Diaries Aphmau Novels & Stories

“I said stalkers were sexy but this is not what I meant. I meant li…like a hot guy in a hoodie who writes poetry, not this girl spying like a freaky creepy CIA” Maya continued scrolling despite her own fear. “Okay, okay, let’s just wait… what’s this?” She held the phone closer. A new app icon sat quietly on the screen, something I’d never seen before brownish, simple, no name. Just a small notebook symbol. “It’s a diary app,” Maya breathed. She tapped it. A password screen flashed up immediately. Locked. “Of course it’s locked,” Sienna groaned. “The universe refuses to give me any peace.”

I locked the door behind me. The diaries sat on my desk where I'd left them—three leather-bound volumes, edges worn soft from years of handling. Her diary was labeled simply Alice. Every good Luna kept one. Her journals. After her reign, they were kept in the libraries and taught to the pack pups to instill wisdom, humility, and compassion toward fellow pack members. Not a pack requirement, just good politics. After this was all over, anything that wasn't confidential I would turn over to the pack libraries.

He had no idea Ayla kept one of these. He really shouldn’t… He opened it. Lucas flipped to the first page, noting the date was set about a year ago. That must have been when she decided to start journaling. He read the first entry. Dear DiryDiary Not sure what to write but my therapist said this would be therapeutic or whatever. Kinda lame but I guess it’s a place to write down my thoughts. Today was boring, but Lucas was an absolute doll! Got… Lucas turned the page. He didn’t need to read entry after entry of Ayla talking about him. He rolled his eyes, quickly flipping through more pages, and about to close the journal all together when he noticed it.

Those thoughts filled her mind. So today, she would finally do something about it. She had bought a brand new diary from the store. It was a special one. With leather on it and a strange P monogrammed on the cover. It was far fancier than anything the Dollar Tree should be selling. Finding it was a score that had Kristen grinning. She was enamored with her new diary. She was eager to get started on it. The diary was thick, too. She could write so many of her naughty ideas in them.

“Look at this desk.” I walked over to a metal terminal covered in a thick crust of grime and dead wires. A leather-bound logbook sat open on the rusted surface, its paper yellowed and damp. I carefully flipped through the brittle pages using the tip of my scalpel, stopping when my light caught a formal header stamped across the top of a summary page. “Project Apex,” I read aloud, tracing the black ink. “What is Project Apex?” Amelia asked, leaning closer to read over my forearm.

By Thursday afternoon, the high arched windows near the ceiling only let in pale, angled shafts of dust-mote filled light, leaving the deeper rows of metal shelves completely swallowed by twilight. Mira sat at a secluded corner desk, surrounded by a stack of heavy, uncataloged historical journals from the region's founding decades. Her laptop screen cast a harsh, blue glow across her face. She had been pulling at the threads for forty-eight hours straight. She had started exactly where her midnight conversation with Caelith had stopped tracking the specific references to the old bloodline lineages and the early architectural drafts of the financial sector.

As if she never saw such sight in those months. It has been a long time, since she arrived there and got enclosed in that home of his where she was never able to witness the environment outside the walls for months. And it all felt so awkwardly strange. A hand came forward from inside the window. Before she could speak or even utter a word, the thing which came in view froze her. It was Amber's hand but it did not surprised her. The thing which shook her was in her hand. That journal. Samantha's diary, her mother's last belonging. She couldn't even blink her eyes for moment, just staring as if it meant nothing to the pain she had right now. As if this only added to her current pain.

The diary, a vessel of memories, became a bridge that connected the present to a past brimming with hope, love, and the indomitable spirit of a woman who had left an indelible mark on their hearts. The room was cloaked in a poignant silence as Larry continued to turn the pages of Sophia's diary. Margaret, Sandra, and Abigail sat huddled together, their eyes fixed on the weathered parchment that held the remnants of Sophia's dreams. The air seemed to echo with the weight of unspoken emotions, the collective sorrow of dreams left unfulfilled.

It gets lonely when no one that knows who you are doesn’t want to hook up because your Dad is a fucking mafia, lord of the gangsters. Even though my age mates I know around my school and area acts all dumb and stupid. However, my perspective changed when I crossed path with this clumsy curly hair. She bumped into me at one of the beluga whale exhibits at mystic Aquarium Connecticut during one of my Dad’s business trip he forced me to come along. I reached out the the one magic book that brought me to her. Her diary.

Pieces she’d been struggling to keep together. Amelia reached into her satchel and pulled out her diary. A diary she’d kept ever since losing her parents. A diary that she poured her heart and soul into. A diary that knew all of her secrets and pain. Dear Diary, time can’t heal my wounds. My mind finds no rest. I keep coming back to the spot where she went missing, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, but she’s never here. She hasn’t returned and I doubt that she ever will. If only I knew what happened to her, then I could get closure and find a way to carry on. But life doesn’t seem that simple and I doubt that I’ll ever find the answers I’m looking for. Chat later, A.