Diary Writing Novels & Stories

"Now let's see how many times I can make you come before you beg me to stop." I should be terrified. Instead, I spread my legs wider. _____ Chloe stared at the page for a long moment after finishing. Then she slowly lowered the diary to her lap. "...Okay," she whispered to the empty apartment, blinking a few times. "Wow." Her cheeks were warm, and she pressed the back of her hand against them as if that might cool them down. It didn't help much. "This girl did not come to play," she muttered under her breath. She shifted on the couch, tucking one leg under the other while her eyes drifted back to the page. The handwriting in the diary was neat, careful, but Chloe could almost imagine the per

The nigt was calm. I sat on my bed and wrote on my diary. Dear Diary, I don’t even know why I’m writing this. Maybe because if I don’t, I’ll break apart. Every time I close my eyes, I see them. Mum’s smile, Dad’s laugh… and then—blood. So much blood. I hear their screams, and I can’t do anything. I wasn’t there to save them. I should have been. Maybe if I had been home earlier… maybe if I had been stronger…

Damian, even thinking‌ his name makes somethi‌ng shift uneasily i‍nside me. I slip ou⁠t of⁠ bed and gathe‌r my journal from the sm‌all bag I brought with‌ me. It is worn a⁠t the edges, the pages slightly wr⁠inkled from being stuffed into too many‌ tigh⁠t spaces. It is the‍ one thin‌g th‍a‍t has stayed co⁠nstant⁠ throug‌h eve⁠rything. When my world spins out of control, I write, Ink is st⁠eadi‍er than thoughts and paper is m‌ore forgiving than⁠ memor‍y.

All of a sudden, Connie recalled those times when Adrian taught her to write. Every moment was still fresh in her mind as if it had just happened yesterday and all of this was a dream, and that Adrian would be back by her side once she woke up. Her diary was as simple as she was. There were only one or two rows of words written each day to concisely record her feelings. 'Adrian, where are you? You're going to be a dad soon!' 'Adrian, I've missed you…' 'Adrian.' Reading the diary, Connie couldn't help tearing up as she flipped through the notebook. Suddenly, she looked solemn upon reading one of the other files.

It did not sound too far-fetched when she remembered who he was. Still, there was something weird about this text. Etiennette just could not put her finger on it. She tossed her phone to the bed and slowly went to her suitcase to retrieve a book clasped shut with a lock. It was Etiennette's diary. She started writing when she was in her high school years as a means to destress and express her feelings. She recorded everything in here—joy, sadness, pain, the likes. [June 4th, 2019. Thursday. Sunny.

Also, the names of the characters are randomly selected and is entirely out of the blues. Welcome to Dynamic Diary of Tee. Enjoy the bumpy ride ahead!

She sat in front of the computer and tried to think of some interesting stories. However, as she thought about it, she realized that her brain wasn't working properly at all. However, there was something in her heart that she wanted to write out, something that she couldn't express normally. Bit her lips and smiled. 'Then, let's keep a diary!' 'Since when? Then start writing from the first time she saw him!' Writing her own story, she didn't even need to think about it, and she could write it out already, because that feeling was right at the bottom of her heart, lingering in her heart. She couldn't speak of it, and she couldn't speak of it to anyone else.

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 my table. After a few seconds of hesitation, I picked up my pen again.

It was completely messed up, a true-looking disaster of scribbles which he never understood what for. “I am writing. In my mind,” Xiao defended herself, “these are my writings. These are what currently residing in my mind,” she seriously said, without any hidden smile, which made the other leave a blank expression on the face, “I’m trying to write a diary. And it’s in my mind. These are currently my own thoughts,” she said once more before she looked at the notepad that’s floating on the air. It was indeed just scribbles if you take a look at them, but the truth behind, they weren’t because she was plotting something and she didn’t want anyone to know and so she hid them in her own thoughts.

It keeps telling me to listen to the…… She paused for a minute before she flipped back to the other pages she missed, she has to know what exactly happened before she saw the 'Thing' that has been hunting her. Immediately she paused, Lyon spoke "Hey, why did you stop reading?" "I have to know what she saw and when she saw the 'Thing' that has been hunting her for days" she said before she continued reading Dear Dairy, Mom says I’m obsessed with writing, not novel writing obviously but writing in you. She is worried that I’m outcasting me from others. She says it’s weird to spend a whole hour writing in a diary. And most especially she says it’s very strange that I get excited to talk to you,