Diario 1 Novels & Stories

I think I need to buy more because what is happening is so exciting for me. In just one day, I use two pages just to tell what happened in my day and how I narrate about what happened when I killed one of my classmates. My diary is literally my friend. He knows a lot about me rathe than a person who doesn’t know even a single fact about me. Even my family does not know the real me. Dear Diary,

I walked over and picked it up and Adrian made a noise like he was going to stop me but I opened it anyway. The first page had Sophia's name and a date from three years ago and the pages were filled with her handwriting, paragraphs of tiny neat words. "This is her diary," I said. "That's not—" Adrian stopped. "I thought that was a work journal." "It's her diary." I flipped through and saw they were all dated, all personal entries about her life and thoughts. I turned to the last entry and my blood went cold when I saw the date. The day before she died.

______ From tomorrow it's a chapter daily with the exception of Sunday which no updates still appears. Please bear with me. This is a work in progress and I'm yet to complete it. I'm trying to balance writing and my daily life. Thanks for understanding

It’s a diary. For several seconds, he simply stares at it. She forgot her diary? Carefully, he picks it up. The cover is worn around the edges, used often. Very often. Opening the front cover, his eyes drop to the first page. This diary belongs to: TROY SUMMERS Summers? He didn't even know her surname. Back then, it didn't matter. They were just two starving children trying to survive another winter. His thumb lingers over the page, then he shuts the diary immediately. He sets it on the bedside table with force and intention.

I stared at his near-lifeless corpse for a few minutes, then shimmied out of bed, cleaned myself up, threw on jeans, a t-shirt, sandals, and drove down to the local all-night coffee shop, “The Daily Grind.” Grabbing a decaf mocha with whipped cream and chocolate syrup, I sat at a corner table and flipped through a dog-eared newspaper. If someone described me then, they’d say: 21-ish blonde, long hair over my shoulders, nice D-cup breasts, cute face that looks good without makeup, good legs, and a vaguely pissed-off look.

Is this what I'm thinking it is? My mind went back to the moment I had picked the diary up from the floor of Crown's Lunch Cafe. The reason I had taken it with me was because of the name I saw in it. I saw the name ZORI, written on the first page of the diary with capital letters when it fell open on the floor. Could it be her? Is the diary hers? PRESENTLY; If this belonged to her, I might as well return it quickly before she sees it with me one day and misunderstands.

I murmured, resuming the drive, my knuckles whitening around the steering wheel. My mind raced as I replayed the words in the diary. She was supposedly dead in August 2019… but her diaryentries were dated all the way to January 2020. That didn’t add up. At all. Now this is weird and Mad unsettling!

I cussed, holding my forehead. "This can't be it! There has got to be more!" I couldn't wrap my head around why anyone would lock a series of books inside a heavy safe and bury it. Frustrated, I picked up a hardback notebook, snapped the straps, and opened it. A cursive handwriting came into view. There were dates on each page of the book. I read the first page. "October 19, 1999. Entry for Research 16." "Dear diary,

We have our plan… --------------- Dear Diary… The time I am alone is the hardest. Time to think of Tate and what he might be doing. Is he finding being apart as hard as me? Has he accepted the things I asked or is he fighting them and trying to think of ways to come and save me? Is that what I want?... In truth, I don’t know. I miss him desperately. And I am scared. I think the only one who could help me is him, so maybe… ----------------

"Maybe this diary holds the key to uncovering more about my past." Sonia sat alone in her room, engrossed in the contents of Frank's diary and records spread out in front of her. With meticulous care, she arranged them in chronological order based on the dates inscribed on each page. Deeply curious, she decided to begin with the entry that coincided with her own birth year.