Diary Novels & Stories

"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.

My first memoir in a new diary. My old diary was filled with stories and stories of girls I've fucked and turned but after this incident that happened on 23/4/2027 I had to start a new diary. So... I was angry that mum was remarrying. I really hate the thought that she couldn't keep her pussy at check after dad's death and jumped into another man's arms. However, she kept reassuring me that it's going to be fine but I hate it as hell.

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.

I'm sure you'll know it's him when you cross parts with him* *If you find a girl or a boy(hopefully it's a girl hopefully she's lovable enough for you. You know what I mean) with the frequency, she will need the journal. Not this one. There's another journal. She probably won't be able to read it until she's ready, but when she is, the Harland collection has a companion text that describes the process. The companion text is called the Respondent. If the man has the collection, he may have the Respondent too.*

The kind you’d expect from a bored, spoiled girl. But then on the fifth page of one of the older journals—I found something. Something that sent a chill down my spine. “Dear diary, Today is March, 2012. I will see him again. I’ve only seen him once before, but he’s the kind of person I know I can’t be with. I’m writing this down so maybe one day I’ll remember because I forget things so easily. Oh, I forget things so easily. But the one thing I can’t forget… are his eyes.

Yet, there was an unmistakable presence that lingered behind. My eyes immediately landed on the disarray of belongings scattered around—a half-folded sweater draped over a chair, a pen precariously close to rolling off the edge of the desk, and a small leather book shoved clumsily behind a lamp. As I stepped closer, curiosity got the best of me. I pulled the book out, brushing away a thin layer of dust that had settled on top. It was a diary—Reya's diary. My heart dropped. I opened it carefully, flipping through the pages filled with notes from class, doodles of flowers and strange symbols, and the margins packed with her though

I wrote about how we grew to love each other, how he had awkwardly confessed to me, how we dated while studying in university, how we started a business, built a company, and how Zach made it bigger and better… I wrote a lot for each entry. As I read through them, I smiled. However, the entries grew shorter the further I got into the diary. Then, in the last entry, I only wrote one sentence. [He’s not back today again.] I took a look at the date. It was dated a few years ago. From that day on, I no longer had the habit of writing in my diary. The diary itself was also forgotten. I sat in front of

Sweat gathered at my temples and Cobwebs clung to my sleeves. The air smelled of cardboard and time. I pushed aside old picture frames, college notebooks, and broken electronics. “Where is it?” I whispered to myself. Box after box, I searched. My fingers were sore and my back ached but then I found it. A navy-blue leather cover…Worn at the corners. The pages sticking out a little from the sides. My diary. I sat on the cold floor, back against the wall, and opened the first page. It was mostly silly things at first.

Like You gave me mine. Dear Diary, Thank you for accompanying me this far. Thank you for being willing to accept all my complaints. And thank you for accompanying the lonely years of my life. (You can read Abigail's story in the book titled "Wedding Agreement")

Dear Diary, Hi. It's Gabriella. This is the first time I've kept a diary so excuse me if this turns out awkward. I decided to write because something weird happened to me last week - until now actually - and I badly needed someone to confide in since I don't have any friends.