Little Diary Novels & Stories

I see he is on his way to Johannesburg tomorrow morning. The diary is held open at the top with a paper clip and a smaller piece of paper. The word that first catches my attention on the piece of paper is Password. My heart skips a beat. "That's what people do," I still hear Gregory say. "They are naturally lazy when it comes to things like remembering passwords, so they write them in their diaries, or they put them in a desk drawer. Some write them on a calendar where they can find them easily." Password... But before I can lower it properly, Dale is behind me.

I took out a hair pin from my hair and picked the lock. “ What am I learning from these kids?” I sighed. Let's just say I picked it up from the twins, who knew it would come in handy? Opening the box, the diary was the first thing I spotted. I took it out and went through it which took longer than I thought and I was beginning to get bored as I wasn't seeing anything related to this. “ Hmmm, what's this?” I went back to the page I had flipped past. It was titled MY GREATEST REGRET and something about the title drew me in.

With trembling hands, I approached it, my fingers brushing against the rough wood. With a creak, I lifted the lid, revealing a treasure trove of forgotten memories. Among the yellowed pages and faded photographs, my gaze landed on a leather-bound diary. It was weathered with time, its once vibrant cover now worn and aged. I knew instinctively that this diary held the answers we had been searching for.

Dear Diary, “What a day. Honestly, I don’t even know where to start. First, I got kidnapped, i don’t even know what to say about that , i am still in shock . Then, Rue came for me like some movie hero. And now… he almost saw you. He almost saw EVERYTHING I’ve written about him. God, if he had, I’d be six feet under right now from embarrassment and it’s crazy how i am worried about that instead of my main secret , i am stupidly in love that i forget about it sometimes . .

Dear Diary; What a ridiculous thing to do! I have never kept a diary in my entire life. Why now? I will tell you why… I have too much to say and no one to say it to… so here it goes. My name is Zinnia, full name… that I will keep to myself. Thank you very much! I am still in bed, whilst writing in this stupid diary, I am worried about the day ahead. Dawn has not broken yet, and I wish it would never break.

I took out my phone, adjusted the angle, and snapped a quick picture of the certificate before restoring everything else to its original place. But the diary… I hesitated for only a moment before flipping it open. Its spine creaked like a dying whisper. The first pages were nothing—childish scribbles, mundane moments of her past. "Mom yelled at me today." "Isaac brought me ice cream." "Isaac played with me." So ordinary. So innocent. I almost laughed. She really had no idea what kind of world she belonged to now, did she?

Dear Diary, Let me introduce myself to you. I'm Alex. I'm 11-year-old. I'm sorry if you find me awkwardly just like everyone. I can't help it but I hope you'll listen. One of a kid here told me that you can be my best friend. She said you won't get irritated and will listen to all of my worries. I'm still not comfortable here. It's been a month when Sophie found me and brought me here. I have so much to talk, to say it out but I don't know where to start, I'm angry, I'm sad, I'm alone and I don't know what will happen now.

Where can I find that? I took a diary and read what was written in it. I just wanted to know and for sure that the diary I'm holding now was mine. June 6, 201* Dear Diary; Today is our first day of school and I'm excited to meet and see Bug's male friend. He told me that he was kind and handsome. What does he look like? But I hope he will be my friend too. Love, Vienna June 7, 201* Dear Diary;

They were really gone, and I was all alone. I dragged my numb body back to my room. The silence was so heavy that even the sound of my own breathing felt jarring. I opened the closet and folded a few everyday clothes into my suitcase. Passport, IDs, and bank cards—I checked them one by one. As I cleared out my drawer, a thick notebook slipped out and thudded onto the floor. It was the diary I'd started writing when I was eight. I stared at it, my fingers trembling, and was unable to stop myself from flipping it open.

Didn't she hide it properly? This diary was a mighty one, big and heavy. The cover was lilac, decorated with drawings of hearts and sparkles. The spine had been cracked over and over again, and the pages were unable to lay flat because of how many times they had been written inside. But it was mostly still intact. It was so big that I wondered when I would even complete the reading, it surely won't be today.