Diary Buku Novels & Stories

Something inside caught my eye. Curiosity stirred, subtle but undeniable. I pulled the drawer open. Inside, among scattered papers and pens, lay a book. I reached for it, my movements slower now, more deliberate. On its cover, faint but unmistakable, was a single word. A word that made something deep in my chest tighten. Diary. And for reasons I could not fully explain, I already knew. Whatever was written inside… Would change everything.

Shayla understood her and didn’t say any words. When Bria was gathering all her belongings inside her drawer, a not familiar book caught her attention. It was in the corner of her drawer and it has a purple and pink cover. She got curious about what’s inside, so she flipped the book and realized it was a diary. And it belongs to her mom. “Journey with my little Gummy bear, Sabria Verone.” was written on the cover. At that moment, she felt the presence of her mom. She turned the page led her to the very first day her mom wrote on the dairy.

The first image nearly knocks the air out of my lungs. A woman. Beautiful. Fierce. Eyes sharp with intelligence and sorrow. Blue fire dancing effortlessly in her hands like it belongs there. And in her arms. A baby. My breath goes shallow. That is not a legend. That is a memory. I turn the page. And freeze. This is not a history book. It’s a diary. Handwritten entries. Personal notes. Dates. Emotions bleeding through ink. Why would a woman’s diary be locked away in the forbidden section of the academy library.

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,

After hesitating for a while, he flipped open the diary to take a peek. It was a typical diary with many scribbles and writings. Gently flipping through the pages, he read the first few lines on the first page of the diary. 12-10-2020 So the doctor asked me to try to keep a journal and write down my personal feelings. Don’t know how that’s going to help but here goes nothing. Getting confused, Alex flipped through the pages, skimming through similar scribbles of how his day went and how his life was going in general. One thing was constant through the pages and it was how he kept on mentioning Alex.

Once we settle in and she seems more calm, I give her a gentle reminder that she and I still need to talk about what happened the previous night. She sets her burger down and brushes the crumbs off of her fingers. “Hold on, let me get my book.” She climbs off the stool and hops off to her room. She comes back quickly with a ragged, thick blue book with bits and pieces of papers sticking out of it and climbs back onto the stool, facing me. “I'm so glad Mom put this in my bag. She remembered how important it is to me. This isn’t just a notebook, Keller. It’s kind of like a diary, I guess, or a journal? I’ve been trying to figure out the difference. And depending on the website you refer to, I

July 2nd, 1943- First Diary Entry. I hate writing and I don't know why granny gave me a diary for my birthday I mean it's a book, I can't even eat it and it's not even cute. Anyway, granny said I would know what to write about when it was time but I think the crazy is getting to her.

When he opened the front cover, I gasped. “This was her diary.” His hand slipped over the black cursive writing with the name. “Judith.” I looked at him and noticed the tears in his eyes. “Were you her gamma?” I tilted my head to one side and he nodded and I could see him swallowing hard. “She purchased the book at a fair one year. She wrote in it every day.” He started to page through it as his fingertips slipped over the pages and pages of cursive writing. “She always said that this way nobody would ever know she kept a diary and nobody would want to read it.” He laughed. “I mean, who wants to read old financial journal entries!” He reached the first empty page. “She had hoped that she wou

he ignored my question and called the server. “Do you have anything spicy here?” “Um...like what?” “Never mind, Do you have French fries?” “Yes.” “I will bring it.” When the server left, he turned to me. “Then what’s that note? Any study stuffs.” “It’s my diary. I will write about myself and my daily life. But I don’t feel like writing it anymore” “Why?” he said without taking his eyes off me. “Cause nothing good happens in my life, so why should I have one. I want life to be happy, interesting with a little of passion, adventure, love which I never found.”

I stopped fidgeting with the suitcase and studied my dad. “Open it.” He handed it to me and as my fingers touched the paper, I could already feel what was inside. I opened it. As I turned it over, I noted my name in silver cursive letters on a beautiful blue velvet cover. “It’s a diary. When I went on my backpacker’s trip, my father gave me one. He told me to write all my thoughts and feelings down when I felt like there was nobody around to listen. It became my only friend at times.” I ran into my father’s arms and hugged him tightly.