Louise Carmen Notebook Novels & Stories

“Yes. And I do not meddle much in her affairs. I believe what she says.. I do not question her whereabouts.” “Well be a good lad then and mind your business.” Said Nicholas, walking off. Alex rolled his eyes, then began to prepare dinner. Carmen arrived an hour later. Nicholas had long left by then. She rushed to her room. Alex followed after her. “My lady sorry to intrude, but are you alright?” He asked. “I am fine! I only need to prepare myself. Its going to be a long, cold night.” said Carmen. “What is happening tonight?” “Tonight is the start of my newly found freedom. I am meeting the prophets and finally do what we were supposed to have done a long time ago.” said Carmen. She walked ab

The notebook's cover is a half blue and half pink and there's a bold lettering for the word 'mommy'. 'Is this a dairy?' He smiled again and took the notebook out. He sat on the floor and began to flip the pages. At first, it is just only an introduction of who is the owner and what she feels at first. 'She wanted to talk about something with me but she can't utter a single word when she has changed to speak.' He scanned every page of the notebook but found that some pages have torn. Meaning, some important notes and has a critical truth about how Sandra feels has been missing.

Her relationship with Heitor. It opened again to the first page: - Here is after... She was already pregnant. Mention ultrasound. - There have to be more of these notebooks around here - I went to the closet, throwing everything on the floor. Each pile of clothes contained several notebooks underneath. As I found it, Ben was picking them up and organizing them by date. At the end, we gathered 15 small brochure notebooks, written in full. It was dark and we hadn't even turned on the lights in the other rooms in the house or closed the windows. We were completely excited and involved in it.

The thought alone that he was about to lose his best friend was suffocating; if I were in his position, guilt would have consumed me until I confessed. As if on cue, Harrison caught my gaze. We locked eyes momentarily, and I quickly put on a blank expression, diverting my attention to my cereal. He, too, turned away, scratching his face awkwardly, Then I focused on the magazine in front of me, filled with trivial gossip I had no interest in. Carmen lay on a rug, laptop on her lap, deeply immersed in a movie through her headphones. Beside her lay a notebook and pen, where she periodically scribbled her thoughts. She'd pause, rewind, or fast-forward through scenes, grimacing in boredom, lament

Immediately, everyone saw Lucille holding a notebook, which looked the same as Sabrina's. The crowd was left speechless. Lucille didn't just take one notebook out. She took out a second one, then a third and fourth… Then, Lucille slowly said, "I'm sorry, Ms. Johnson. I forgot to tell you the perfumery formula notebook you have in your hands is just one volume of a whole collection." She smiled and added, "All these years you've had that book, didn't you notice an index number on each formula?" Lucille slightly lifted her chin. "That notebook in your hand contains the first 15 formulas."

Bingo. It was tucked in the back, nearly forgotten, soft leather worn and cracked at the spine. An old contacts notebook. Her brother still used it,.one of his paranoid habits. No digital footprint, no traceable text. Just names and numbers in his sharp handwriting, organized by territory, by favor, by danger. She flipped through quickly, fingers trembling, heart pounding like it wanted out of her chest. And then she saw it. Lombardi, R. Just an initial and the number burned into the yellowing paper in crisp black ink.

"Oh god, it's gone." Cale was sitting on the chaise lounge, staring at a patch of sunlight on the carpet. He looked calm, but it was the eerie, vacant calm of a machine in standby mode. "What is gone?" Cale asked without looking up. "The notebook," Elion hissed, dropping to his knees to check under the bed. "My journal. The one with the list. The Anomalies. The Hypotheses. Everything." Cale slowly turned his head. His eyes were clear, but the processing speed seemed... lagged.

"I was twenty-nine and I had met someone on the night bus and had a series of conversations that stayed with me when the person was gone. And I wrote it down the only way I could." Daniel looked at the dark blue notebook on the table. He thought about the twenty-nine year old Adrian and the four months on the night bus and the composition written in the year of it. He thought about all the years between twenty-nine and the rainy night, the nine years of the carrying, and the composition in the notebook all that time — the inside view of the recognition, preserved. He thought: the notebook is not February. The notebook is the kept thing. The thing held in the honest container, not hidden, not

Opened the notebook. Kept going.