Diary Of A Young Naturalist นิยาย & เรื่องราว

What is clear, I want to get away from these two people. "Oh yeah, do you want to have lunch with me and Liza?" “Emm… today I'm on a diet. Sorry," I lied. “Pfftt… are you on a diet? It sounds very strange," sneered Alexi, who then went first to class. I had no intention of following her and letting her get away from me. After all, why go after a strange girl who mocks me? Wasting time. ** "Tam, want to go to the cafeteria?" asked Sandra who had stood up from her seat.

I’m not one of those girls that has kept a little black book. I do have a pink holographic book with a flamingo on it. I got it during a wildlife excursion in year 11, buying it was the highlight of the trip for me. It may make me sound like a loser, but after five hours of observing animals and birds, I’m unapologetic. At least they had a shop. I went home with a tea cup, pencil case, and my little pink book. I was happy.

The journal's pages had become her obsession, she sat curled in the window seat of the cabin's main room, Nikolai Voss's leather-bound diary spread across her lap like a puzzle missing half its pieces. It had been three days since she’d discovered Nikolai Voss's meticulous documentation of his youngest son's torment, and she couldn't shake the images it had painted. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw a seven-year-old boy scrambling through dark woods while his siblings hunted him like prey. She pictured small hands mixing pine sap with creek water to mask his scent, clever mind already learning that survival meant being three steps ahead of everyone else.

“Not the best. - Not so much. All those wonderful affairs with Aunt Maideh . The gossip and gossip, the way women worked to get what they wanted from men. Do you have a diary? “I have ten. I started collecting them when I was seven. She reached under the bedclothes and pulled out a leather-bound notebook. “It's weird that you tell me to write about my childhood. I was reading one of my journals right before you came in. Read it and tell me what you think. Fleur took the notebook and stretched out on a lounge chair. Nizéa wrote in scribbles, but soon the interest in reading was greater than the difficulty of deciphering it. Here was the life of a wonderful girl, on the verge of maturity, reme

“We're all pawns, Shannon. But we choose what king we serve.” “But there's so little I can do, Samael.” I looked at the Redmont woods, their beautiful autumn colors fading in the twilight. I remembered my journals at home: filled with sketches of the wild and notes on the forest's ecosystem. How I'd met him, following the flight of a crow. Now they were furious collections of the world I'd been thrown into: guides to what went bump in the night. I'd gone from naturalist to supernaturalist in the blink of an eye.

"No. We should apologize instead." We held each other and broke down in tears. Leonard was still in a critical stage. Meanwhile, the content of his diary was published on the Internet. The diary recorded every moment we had spent together. I sat on the bench outside the ICU, and my phone kept vibrating. "Liv, have you seen the news? Leonard's diary has gone viral on the Internet!" "Oh my God! You guys had such great memories together!" "He loves you so much…" I tapped on my phone. The topic at the top of the trending list read, "high school memories of Leonard Burton."

I went over to the desk and started ripping papers writing years down. The oldest recollection I had was before the barrier was erected but that was just in passing memory. This Diary starts out with the night of the barrier being created. It’s by far the oldest and at fifteen hundred years old I put that one first on the shelf taking care to place the others on the floor. There were nearly a hundred diaries each from a different person but whatever reason Dimitris had them here I didn’t know. I just knew that time was flying by as I continued looking up dates and marking down years. A few times I’d get caught up in reading until I was brought back to the task on hand. Maybe making it throug

I unlocked it and pulled it open. It was full of A5 diaries, in numerical order, starting from 1994. I opened the first one and it was filled with my handwriting. I began to read it. It began when I was fifteen years old and it described my first teenage relationship. I skipped forward and read the last few pages. It was filled with wolf laws, training with Malachi, stories about Karani, my mother.

“Well, look at that. Our little rat goes to our school.” I flipped through a spiral notebook. The handwriting was tiny, meticulous and loopy.. definitely a girl. I dug deeper into the bag, my fingers brushing against something soft and pulled it out. It was a small notebook bound in worn faux leather but it didn’t look like a textbook. “What is that?” Jasper asked, finally pulling his gaze away from the window. “I think,” I said, tapping the cover playfully, “we just found a diary.” Silas paused with his glass halfway to his mouth. “Read it.”

Episode 49 – The Confessional Diary The attic smelled of dust and forgotten things. Ophelia’s fingers traced the spine of a leather-bound journal, its surface cool and smooth, tucked away in a cedar chest that had belonged to her grandmother. She hadn’t been looking for secrets; she’d been looking for old photo albums. But the moment she lifted the diary’s cover and saw the elegant, looping script, her own script, from years ago, a peculiar heat bloomed in her chest.