Diaries Aphmau Novels & Stories

🖱️Victor🖱️ The moment Sammy and Jane left the room with Jayden, the room felt different nAnd somehow more dangerous. I reached inside my coat and pulled out the diary. My mother’s diary. The one that only answers when it wants to. The one that showed me fragments of what was coming before I even understood them. My fingers tightened around it before I opened it. The pages that had been blank before now shimmered faintly. Then slowly, like ink bleeding through water, words began to appear.

He then set it gently on the table, which is close to Raphael. “My mother was the waitress who served Seraphina Farrington back then. This is her diary. At that time… I had leukemia, and we were drowning in desperation. My mother accepted the money even though her heart fought against it. She allowed someone to take Seraphina away.” “She carried the guilt all her life. Before she died, she made me promise to bring this diary to Gamma Raphael. But I… I am nobody. I'm just a small soul in a world run by powerful wolves. I never had the chance to approach Gamma Raphael. But I guarded the diary. I protected it all these years.”

I pulled my hand away and took a step back, locking eyes with him. "No. It's not that you didn't notice me. You just never thought I was worth your attention. "When we landed in Svalmere, I was pale and clearly unwell, but instead of caring, you were more worried about Madison being alone at the hotel. "And when I got back after being buried in snow for hours, all I wanted was to sleep, but you brought me a bowl of mutton stew, even though you knew I hated mutton, and tried to force me to eat it. To you, what I need or want doesn't matter.

I am aware that some are already asleep by this time but sleepiness is not approaching me. I decided to get my diary and write what happened on my day. Dear diary, It is undeniably a long and tiring day yet I am still awake. I am not just physically tired but also mentally and emotionally. I’m drained and I don’t know how to get back. I badly want to be alone but I know... I just really want to be found. Save me... those were the words I wanted to shout yet I know, no one is willing to save me. They would not save me. I am lost. Please... hear me. Yet many are deaf. Please... look at me but they were all blind.

Dylan stayed buried, groaning through his orgasm, filling him up. When it was over, we all collapsed. Sweaty. Shaking. Stuck together. Aiden was still whimpering into the pillow when I rolled onto my back, legs open, soaked and aching. "Someone's still hungry," Dylan murmured, eyes dark as he leaned over me. His gaze dropped to where I was dripping. "She's shaking," he whispered to Aiden. "Look at her. All that moaning got her all soaked and needy for more.” Aiden crawled closer, still flushed, his hair a mess. "Dammn, she didn't even touch herself, did she?”

My beautiful babies. My aunt had children? I had never known that. What had happened to them? What had the family done? I sat there on the couch, rocking slightly, breathing too fast. The diary felt like poison in my hands. I had to hide it again. I had to pretend I hadn’t seen it. But I couldn’t unsee it. I couldn’t unhear the desperate repetition. My babies. My beautiful babies. I stood up on shaky legs and put the diary back behind the books.

Today I finally get to study the ancient civilizations and forgotten myths I've spent years researching in secret. After years of dreaming about it, I am finally leaving Ashbrook. I stand too fast, and the room spins around me. I grab the edge of my desk until everything settles. My diary lies open on the desk, exactly where I left it last night. Its pages are soft and worn from years of use. Inside are dates, rumors about vanished civilizations, sketches of symbols no historian could explain and myths dismissed as superstition. I pick up my pen and turn to a fresh page. In my neat handwriting, I write:

It is old but seems to be well cared for. “Diary? Who uses a diary now? ” I whispered to myself as I hurried to open it. I was not mistaken. It was indeed a diary. Stoney isn’t a pure stone at all. He’s a softie. Funny that there were still drawings around the notebook cover back then. This is really it. I can already feel the MMK-like story of Cormac. . . the story that will win us over to AFA 2020. The first entry in that diary came to me. It was dated sixteen years ago. March 21, 2004.

"You're home for old man Badmus's funeral then. I never knew there were any of you guys left. The story says most of your family perished mysteriously. I only knew of the old man and his son." "Stories are wrong all the time, Qayah," I smiled. "Qayah? My name is Adeezah." "Oh, I'm sorry. Miss Adeezah." "I think what you need is a good meal and a change of clothing. I'll get you some coffee and eggs." But as she left to get the food Ramotta emerged from the back door, looking angry. "You need to leave now, vampire, or we are going to have a problem," she whispered. I stood up and walked out of the diner. Outside, I looked at the wall and saw flyers of three missing people pasted on the wall o

Humphrey then suggested her to write it down and gave her this diary. She has been writing everything she has been feeling in this diary…related to... everything that happened that day. She has written about her nightmares… her version of truth of that day…her worries for her uncle and the Grisham’s…. about how grateful was she to the people here….how she was doubtful if she would live or not…about how she missed her mother whom she never met…everything. Everything….except one thing….