Novel & Cerita Diary A Novel

I asked no one in particular but the dusty jewelleries stared back at me giving me my answer. I turned to move but my leg hit the vanity drawer and I heard a small plop, “Ouch!” I winced in pain as I rubbed my toes, bending down to pick what had fallen, it was a book and it was dusty. Dusting it off made me cough repeatedly and I stared at the book turning the page open but every page as well was covered in dust although preserved. I dusted a few pages off and the crisp but clean handwriting stared back at me. I read the first page and Immediately closed it. It was Jonathan’s mom’s diary.I flipped through the book and realized that she had written a lot and even almost used up the book. I wa

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

“Hate me all you want, little doll. It makes your pu**y taste sweeter.” He pulled me tighter against him. I could feel him pressing hard against me through his pants. My breath came faster. “Dante… this is wrong,” I whispered. “Wrong feels good, doesn’t it?” He turned my face to his and kissed me roughly. His tongue pushed into my mouth, claiming, demanding. I tried to pull back but he held my jaw and deepened the kiss until I was moaning into his mouth. When he broke the kiss, I was panting. He stood up, lifting me easily, and carried me to the wide leather couch. He laid me down and knelt between my legs, pushing the red dress up to my waist. “Look at these pretty p**nties,”

"Why did Zayden have to hide this book from me? He should have given it to me so I could remember it," Olivia muttered. Olivia was seated in the corner of her room, the dim light from the table lamp highlighting the tattered diary. She began to open the diary, page after page, filled with her own handwriting that now felt so foreign. In her head, every word and story contained a fragment of a long-lost memory.

She marvelled at her erratic heart beats and wondered if they would ever get normal in his presence. As she searched her bag for the comb, she found the small handpocket sized diary that she bought in a thrift store a long time back. She opened it and skimmed through the enty pages of the book when a crazy creative idea popped up. Smiling to herself, she picked a pen from the nearby table as she decided to write about all the beautiful memories she had with Ronan the previous day. This way, she can relive them whenever she wanted without missing out on even the smallest details. Excerpts from Anya's Diary:

It was a call from my editor – sharing the good news that the interview I had with IBS-CON network ranked number one in talk shows and that my book was once again sold out in a well-known bookstore. Elated I was, I ran inside my room and wrote about it in my journal. And while I was happily writing the news about my success, I caught a glimpse of an old notebook – stuck in between my two other novels. I pulled it out, and in an instant, the memories I had written in that diary rushed over me. I felt the urge to open it – which I did, and there I read what seems to happen like yesterday... ******************* Dear Diary, I'VE BEEN BULLIED AGAIN!

“Thank you.” “It’s all good.” She got up and went over to the counter kept at a corner. Bringing a notebook, she gave it to me. “I know that I can’t remember much after a few hours. Most days, I—I can’t even remember that I can’t. So, I started writing everything down as much as I could. I want you to take this.” I took the pink diary and flipped through the pages—it was at least fifty pages, all filled completely. “But, uh,” I chuckled. “Isn’t this kind of personal?”

I said,my voice firm. She nods, her hands on her thighs for balance. I watch her face tighten with effort. A second passes, Then I hear the first trickle. Warm golden piss hits my chest, Splashing against my skin. It's hot, like liquid heat spreading out. The stream is stronger, hitting me right in the center of my chest. running down in rivulets over my nipples and stomach. The smell hits me—sharp, musky, all her. I love it. My chest gets soaked fast.

Dear Diary, I’ve decided to keep a book recording all my days here at High Hill, should make pleasant reading in the future! Well, let’s start with the basics. I’m Gabriel; surname’s irrelevant as I’d rather not link myself to my parents. I’m 15; average height, wavy mousey brown hair, hazel brown eyes, and I’ve just arrived on my first day here. My parents sent me here because apparently public school isn’t good enough for me. But the reason they don’t know is that my parents would rather not have a son like me around them, snobbish twats. I’m just not good enough for them because I’m gay... Oh yes, did I not mention, I’m gay...and single... and full of a house with lots of boys in it. Oh b

Enjoy the journey ............. Emily POv : I was rearranging my cupboard, sorting through the piles of clothes and forgotten items, my fingers brushed against something unexpected—a diary. My diary. I paused, feeling a rush of memories flood back at the sight of the worn, weathered cover. It had been so long since I last laid eyes on it, tucked away amidst the clutter of my belongings. With curiosity, I retrieved the diary from its hiding place, feeling the weight of years past in my hands. As I flipped through its pages, the familiar scrawl of my own handwriting greeted me, each entry a window into moments long gone but not forgotten.