Little Diary Novels & Stories

The old sketch book and the old diary. “I think that has all the answers you need….or at least some of it.” My throat grew both numb and painful at the same time, my fingers trembled as a tear drop stained the worn cover of the diary. The dust covered it lightly after I wiped it off, but I could see the old pink color and the long ropes attached to the book. I pulled it apart and watched as the book fell open. My breath caught in my throat when I started the first page. It wasn’t filled with words, but tiny doodles and drawings all around. Flowers, socks, books, stars, little hearts, and right in the center of the page were three names written over and over again;

She entered Linda's room and found Linda sitting quietly on the bed, staring blankly out the window, almost as if life had left her body. Beside her was a small diary that Linda had been using since her hospitalization, writing in it every day. Emily had known about it all along, even buying her the pink diary. "Linda, what are you writing?" Emily asked, picking up the open diary. A black pen lay on top, and a string of verses caught her eye. Here, desolate, not a blade of grass grows. Later, you came here. Miraculously, everything came to life. This is my heart.

🖱️Victor🖱️ The moment Sammy and Jane left the room with Jayden, the room felt different nAnd somehow more dangerous. I reached inside my coat and pulled out the diary. My mother’s diary. The one that only answers when it wants to. The one that showed me fragments of what was coming before I even understood them. My fingers tightened around it before I opened it. The pages that had been blank before now shimmered faintly. Then slowly, like ink bleeding through water, words began to appear.

- Sierra - Out - I sign all of my little diary entries like that. It's a habit I picked up when I started doing them. It was mainly so I could get my feelings across, rant about things. Discuss my day and hopes and dreams but nearly 6 weeks have gone by and I'm starting to feel like I'm trapped again.

Chapter 2 Alex’s POV “What’s that one?” I asked again, my finger still hovering near his on the trackpad, heart pounding from more than just the way his hand gripped my thigh. “Real Story? Come on Damien, you can’t drop something like that and expect me not to wonder.” Damien’s eyes narrowed but that hungry look stayed locked on me. He pulled his hand back slowly, fingers dragging along my leg like he hated letting go. “It’s nothing for you to worry about. Just some old notes. Private shit.”

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.*

she curiously asked. “Uhm... That was a journal, baby. Your personal diary... I mean, if you grow old someday, you will realize things... Things that you couldn’t ask to another person because you will be afraid or scared to make them think that you are weird or something... So if ever that you have some questions about yourself and you don’t know whom to ask it, you can write it down in here...” “Really? Will I be able to find the answer then?” “Maybe... As time passes by, if you read the first pages of this diary, you will finally be able to answer that question all by yourself. It’s because you already experienced it... That’s when you realize that you finally grow a lot over the long per

I had my journal in my hand, somehow I felt a new need to hold on to it everywhere I went. I was with Damien, though I was bruised all over, it was easy to hide the pain. Besides, I was used to being flogged. We were talking about something that made me laugh so hard. It was actually a comedy skit we watched. I almost lost balance, my journal scattered on the ground. I was embarrassed, more embarrassed because the name "Annabelle Steele" was written boldly on its front page.

"Jackpot." I grinned. What better way to know a person's deep, dark secret than through their diary? And with how hidden this one was, there had to be some dirty little secrets. Some recent dirty secrets because the last date was just a few months ago. I sat down on the floor and began reading the first entry. Some minutes and some pages later, I was already getting bored out of my mind. It was just the usual stuff of how her day went and what somebody did to hurt her. Boring drama but no juicy story.

July 2nd, 1943- First Diary Entry. I hate writing and I don't know why granny gave me a diary for my birthday I mean it's a book, I can't even eat it and it's not even cute. Anyway, granny said I would know what to write about when it was time but I think the crazy is getting to her.