Notebook Novels & Stories

a spiral-bound notebook? With exaggerated care, as if handling some priceless artifact, Caleb set the notebook on the table before her. Lila recognized it instantly - the very same journal he'd commandeered during their last confrontation, now being returned of his own volition. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, darting between the proffered item and Caleb's unreadable expression as she tried to divine the trap surely hidden within this unexpected olive branch. But Caleb merely nudged the notebook closer, then withdrew a pen from his jacket pocket. With deliberate movements, he flipped open to a bla

Nicko asked, lifting his chin at Mr Al Hameed. The man with thick hair just shook his head, but the look on his face didn’t say that. Not only did the notebook have a beautiful crocodile skin cover, but its contents were very important. Even though the era is modern, and all digital, it turns out that Yaseer Al Hameed still relies on a notebook to record his personal schedule. According to him, noting that cellphones are very vulnerable to hacking, and if the cellphone is damaged, has no signal or runs out of power will be very inconvenient.

=b+e+d:(c+=e.length,e=b.indexOf("&",c),d=0{document.addEventListener&&q(document,"click",a=>{S=a},ba)},oa=()=>{const a=S;return a?Q||R?!1:(a.preventDefault?a.preventDefault():a.returnValue=!1,!0):!1},pa=()=>{q(document,"mousedown",()=>{Q=!0});q(document,"keydown",()=>{R=!0});na()};var qa=(a,b=17)=>{if(0>b||parseInt(b,10)!==b)b=17;T(a,b)},ra=(a,b)=>{T(a,b||1)},sa=a=>{T(a,2)},ta=(a,b)=>{T(a,b||0)};let U={},V=!0;var T=(a,b)=>{var c;if(c=V)void 0===U[a]&&(U[a]=[]),(c=U[a][b])||(U[a][b]=!0);c||P(document.getElementById(a),a,"nb",b,V)};function W(a,b,c){const d=a.id||"";P(a,d,"nx",b);P(a,d,"

But the question arises, how do I go to choose , do I take a pen to him to draw on, or speak to it, the notebook might be alive, try to talk it first. "I choose earthly level weirdness." When hearing my words, the notebook seemed to come to life, as if it was entwined with black mist, while also constantly turning over on its own, the temperature in the room also at this time became a few points colder, and finally the notebook still stopped at the first page, at which point the notebook appeared in a different handwriting from the beginning and the same as the robo

“I think it’s an information spell. I think it’s giving her the information in the books in one go. Like she is having a super speed reading in one go. Maybe some kind of defence mechanism? When there are times of trouble maybe it will give all the information it holds to one source to keep as well as the books themselves?” Tilly touches the air around Nova as it crackles and hums. “It would make sense. This is a shield so that no one can interrupt the information transfer. Curious. I’ve heard about this once before but never seen it. Look at the way her eyes are moving where her brain is processing information at such a rapid rate.” “Yeah, fascinating” I say sarcastically, “Is she okay thou

This office that has always felt safe now felt like a crime scene. My fingers drifted across the bookshelf, across the neat rows of accounting textbooks. I stopped when I noticed there was no dust on one part of the shelf. Something roughly the size of a notebook has been sitting there. Dad kept dozens of notebooks because he always wrote down everything. Meeting notes, ideas, random thoughts. He always trusted paper more than computers. Then why is one missing? Someone must have removed that notebook. The question is, who?

He was watching them too. Then he looked at me. I looked back at my notebook. Very normal. Very fine. "You always carry that thing everywhere?" he asked. I looked up. He was still looking at me. "The notebook?" He nodded once. "Pretty much," I said. "What do you write in it?" I blinked. That wasn't a question I expected. "Notes," I said carefully. "For class mostly. And sometimes other things." "Like what?" "Just… thoughts." He looked at the notebook for a second.

Head down, pen moving, the focused absorption of a woman with too much to do and the capacity to do all of it. On the corner of her desk, slightly apart from the working documents, her notebook. Closed. The pen she had been using rested across the cover. I kept walking.

She pulled out her small notebook computer and unzipped the cover. "Oh no!" Lauren frowned at Clint's notebook inside the protective case. In her rush to get away from him, she'd picked up his black notebook instead of her red one. Since their cases were the same shape, color, and size, it wasn't such an impossible mistake, but she was bothered by the idea of him having his grubby hands on her computer. She shrugged her shoulders. E-mail was e-mail regardless of the computer she used to access it, so she opened it up, turned it on, and waited for it to boot up.

There were three shelves. The top shelf h⁠ad a stack of flat, serious‌ looking h‍ard drives. The middle shel‍f had a‌ row of‍ notebooks, all bound in the same gray leat‌her. The bott⁠om shelf had a bulky sa‍tel‍l‍ite phon‌e⁠ and a⁠ small, heavy lockbox. I reached for the notebook in⁠ the middle, the on‌e⁠ tha‍t looked most used. I opened⁠ it.