Diary Buku Novels & Stories

MAYALINA May 14th 2018 I pick up the large sack of rubbish from the bar, fling it over my shoulder and wobble my weak butt to the back entrance where the large skip bins are. I walk through the halls and look into the rooms as I pass them by. All the doors are open except the room that used to be mine. Things have been really slow on our side of the wing lately. It's like we've all dispersed for our own painful reasons.

But we pushed on, setting aside every paper that obliquely referenced me. “None of them say that you’re not a part of things, but that’s mostly because they don’t mention you very often,” Maya mused, nibbling on her lower lip. “Look, I’ll keep going through these papers. You should try that.” She pointed at the small, leather-bound book that had been tucked into a far corner of the hidden crevice. I nodded, although dread was curdling in my guts. The problem was that I recognised that book. I’d seen my mother and father each writing in it hundreds of times as I grew up; they claimed it was their shared diary, where they recorded their private thoughts for one another.

On the morning of the fourth day, I began the "Pilgrimage." Before I left, I went to the manor's abandoned library. It was filled with moldy books and broken furniture, and the air smelled of decaying paper. But on a shelf in the deepest corner, I found a special diary. The cover was dark brown leather, with "Book of Laments" embroidered in gold thread. I opened the first page and saw elegant handwriting. "Here are recorded the stories of every soul in this manor, their pain, their despair, and their final wishes..."

This was why he had let his Uncle keep it until he was ready. And maybe now he was ready. He knew the Bible, jotter, and diary used to be her favorite things in the world. He knew because she used to tell him so. He put down the diary and picked up the jotter. The jotter was a hardcover book with exactly 400 pages as numbered. Whenever his mom bought a notebook, she liked to number it to be sure she hadn't been cheated. It was funny to watch her put so much effort into it. And even hilarious that he had picked up the habit. None of his books went unnumbered.

I contemplated whether to check out the book, but I saw another person just leaving without even glazing at the librarian who was busy doing his own work. ~~~~~ Back in my room, I sat down on the settee and opened the book. The pages had taken a brownish hue, conveying its age. Surprisingly it was more like a diary. I frowned. Whose diary was it? The name had become smudged. Even then I carefully flipped the page. My eyes halted on the first line of the first entry. ‘Mother is scary. She doesn’t love me. She doesn’t love father. She wants to kill us….’

The book he, her old bestie had bought for her. It was a simple gift for her 14th birthday, 10 years ago. It was the last birthday he had spent with her. Or rather, the last day. He left her a small note that she noticed a few hours after his family had left. They were celebrating her birthday with her family as they were like one family. Carmen never used to like diary books and thought that they were stupid, reminding you of the reality you want to escape from.

She went and sat down on a couch her dad placed in the room. He would come into the room each time he missed their mother. At least that is what Steph thought and everyone in the house. While looking around, she saw a book hidden underneath the coach. If one was not careful, one could not have seen the book. It was a diary. Her dad’s diary. It had everything he had ever done or happened in it. Only important things or things he regretted. The book was very old. It seemed to be at least 10 years old or more.

Adrian muttered realizing what the book actually contained. After that, Adrian closed the book again, and held it. At least, only Alexis could read the contents of the book. Moreover, the book was a diary belonging to Alexis' late parents. Adrian felt that he had no right to read it completely. And besides that, Adrian hopes that maybe in this diary of Alexis' parents, he and Alexis will be able to get an important clue. Of course. Then after that, Adrian went back to the inside of the room.

Via called, "You should be using your free time to take a break from the academics. Otherwise, you'll die a nerd." "I am not studying. It is a dear diary. You should start yours too." Her friend stopped her writing to respond. Via was aware of the purpose of a daily diary; she had read several books series of the Royal Diaries from their school library. Those kinds of fictional diaries of actual female figures royalty as a child throughout history. She was well knowledgeable of the unwritten rule that they are supposed to be personal. That means it should be a secret even from their closest friends. However, Via's curiosity wanted to read the thoughts of her friend.

The sides of the pages of the diary crumble in my hands and are reduced to ashes. The sun has come out and I start to sweat. I look at the diary. It has nothing written on the cover, except the year—2010—which is faded. There is no auto in sight. I sit on the pavement and flip through the contents. It is nearly full. The handwriting is not the best, but it is neat and deliberate. The first few pages are damaged beyond recognition. The top-right corners of the pages keep crumbling into charcoal.