Little Diary Novels & Stories

LESLIE’S JOURNAL ENTRIES 001 ******* Dear Diary, Scratch that. Dear Journal? Well, you’re sort of pink, handmade and gotten from the roadside stall of a little girl working on some class project so maybe you're really a diary. However, I am going to pretend this is a journal and this is the beginning of me journaling my new life in a new city. I read somewhere online that it’s a therapeutic practice. For me, it’s an escape. The only way I can express myself in a world where I feel more alone than I have ever been.

It was the first step towards her survival plan. Her hands fell to the top draw, where she pulled out the paper sanctuary. Her diary was covered in navy blue velvet, the sensation under her fingers always giving her a warm feeling inside. Mia used her diary in the conventional sense, i.e. writing out her thoughts and feelings, but she also used it to make lists. She loved lists. September 8th

I was in disbelief that Henry could actually have a thing for literature. Checking through the books, I noticed a black diary which laid under the books and it got me curious. I don't know why, but having to read Henry's diary became an urge that I could not resist. I picked up the book and flipped it's pages opened. All the stuff he wrote bored the hell out of me and I was about giving up on the diary when I saw a recent write up and it had my name written. Dear Diary It's been long since I last opened you. I guess life issues could actually make one forget a friend. Anyways, lots have happened over the past few months. I have hit my ninety nine mark on the register of girls I will fuck bef

I jumped out of bed quickly and headed straight to my desk, picking my diary up out of the drawer. This diary was invaluable in managing my day-to-day life. I recorded my mood daily and a summary of the events of the day, I also kept track of official functions and pack-related affairs in there so I didn't forget a single thing. Every morning I wrote a list of the things that I needed to do that day. I turned to the page that should have held the list that I clearly remembered writing as soon as I woke up on the eve of my anniversary, but the page was blank.

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.”

“They found out I have the code. I don’t know how, but… I’ve seen them watching me. I’ve been followed. Two nights ago, someone tried to break into my place. I have to disappear, Lexi.” My voice trembled. “So what do you want me to do?” He handed her a single page—a torn scrap filled with symbols, numbers, and scribbled lines. It looked like chaos. “I need you to write this down. Copy it—exactly. Keep it somewhere safe. Somewhere no one would look. I’m burning this journal tonight. You’ll be the only person left with this.” I stared at the paper. My hands shook as I took it. “Pastor Dav…”

As she searched through them, her fingers touched something hard. She pulled it out. A small brown diary. Ann stared at it. She had bought it years ago, before she married Daniel. She remembered writing in it during her younger days. Dreams. Plans. Little secrets. Things she couldn't tell anyone. She smiled sadly. She hadn't written in it since her wedding. She sat down and opened the first empty page. For several seconds, she held the pen without writing. Then she finally wrote. Dear Diary, She stopped. The words suddenly felt strange. Then she continued.

Our bedroom became a place to rest instead of a place to brace ourselves. I bought a journal in March at a bookstore near the foundation offices. Nothing fancy, just a simple leather-bound notebook. That night after the kids were asleep, I sat at the kitchen table and wrote about our life. The mundane, ordinary moments that felt like gifts. Monte is losing his first tooth and putting it under his pillow with such ceremony. Sophia refused to wear anything but her princess costume for three days straight. Four burning pancakes on Saturday morning and Monte telling him it was okay because they tasted good anyway.

But as I held the book in my hands, something inside me kept whispering. Just open it. Just one look. She can’t possibly be hiding anything serious… right? Curiosity slowly took over my thoughts. Before I could change my mind, I opened the diary. The first few pages seemed completely normal. Just simple entries about her daily life. She wrote about going to school, small arguments with classmates, random thoughts about things that annoyed her, and even little complaints about assignments. It all looked very ordinary. Just a normal girl writing about her normal life. I flipped through more pages slowly.

But the more I looked, the colder I felt. Some were faded. Some had red marks across them, thin lines that slashed through their faces. I picked one up with shaking hands. The girl in it was smiling, holding a glass in her hand. On the back, Calder had written a date. Nothing else. I put it down quickly, my fingers trembling, and looked at the diary. Against every thought in my head telling me to stop, I opened it. The first page was neat, his handwriting smooth. At first, it looked like normal notes, records of dinners, meetings, private thoughts. Then the words darkened.