Notebook Novels & Stories

These snippets of introspection and self-discovery were like tiny seeds, planted in the fertile ground of shared human experience. Yam hadn’t intended the notebook to become a project. It was meant to be a personal outlet, a place to pour out thoughts and feelings that had been bottled up for too long. But as the pages began to fill, people started to notice. They would approach Yam with curiosity and a gentle request: “Can we reply?” “Can we leave something for someone specific?” The notebook had become a beacon, drawing in those who were seeking connection, understanding, or simply a place to leave their own mark.

A plan that, if executed correctly, would change everything. Back in her cell, Isabella sat down on the bed and opened a hidden compartment in the floor. Inside was a small notebook, its pages filled with her carefully scribbled notes. She had been tracking everything—names, contacts, dates, potential allies. The details were crucial, each line of writing a small piece of a much larger puzzle. She flicked through the pages, each entry a reminder of how far she had come. The notebook held her only connection to the outside world, her lifeline in the midst of the prison walls.

“I stared at the girl who enticed me deeply. Though her clothes were wet because of the water that dripped from the clay pot on her head, she looked so beautiful. She resembles my dear late Nana, of whom I first saw the beauty of a black woman. She looked like a black angel. She had a portion of her plaited hair bound by a red ribbon, while the rest, fell about her arms, and even reached her waist. I have never seen a black woman with such an abundance of fine hair in my lifetime. She walked like a cat. I admire her more than any damsel I have ever seen. As fate happens, she turned around, and stared back at me. Our eyes met, her hazel-coloured eyes left me entranced, so I fell. Her pot of

“Looks like you’ve been busy today.” “Yeah. I ran out of data. I’ll have to start going to the library more,” Renee sighed. Jesse looked down at the things in his lap. There were crude sketches of what looked like tables. He moved that aside and found a notebook underneath. It had figures on it. He skimmed over it thinking that it was for the wedding until he noticed a repeat of Uber. Then there was internet with a question mark and library beside it. He noticed the total at the bottom. It was a big sum.

The boy chewed his mouth, moving a little closer to Daisy. One of his feet kicked out of the blanket, put on Daisy's hips, and continued to sleep. The man held Daisy’s backpack sitting on a chair. Open the backpack, take the phone in his hand. “An antique phone? This type of phone was manufactured about ten years ago. How did she use it? It still looks quite new, even though it doesn't use cases, tempered glass, scratch-resistant, colorful like young people. Just press the power button. The phone interface immediately appears. Image of a fat lazy cat, stretching out to bask in the sun.

Her mind leaned toward the second scenario, which wetted her panties even further. She controlled herself-barely. She tried to focus on what they showed her, from the solar panels and wind turbines that provided all their electrical needs to the composting and garden areas. But while she noted all the eco-friendly changes and increased number of homes, she just couldn't concentrate. Every so often familiar faces would come up to say hello, and she'd snap out of her self-imposed torture to exchange hellos and hugs. But all too soon, they'd pass on, and she'd return to her coiled state of sexual readiness. After a while, even her state of mind couldn't hide the fact that she noticed more new f

"Hey? So I have a perpetual lack of an attention span. And unfortunately its run out, bye." °°° "So... Tell me about yourself." Zack whispers. "Why?" The technical equipment smothers my body. Making it slightly more time consuming to move, I've got the basics; knives, mini soldering iron, pliers, copper wire. Just some essentials. A small computer was too much for me to carry as well, so Cole has it for me. Along with all the other ammunition Cole and Zack carry, it's probably heavier on his body than it would have been in mine. But he doesn't seem too affected.

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She pulled the weathered black notebook into the exact center of the morning light. The cardboard cover was scuffed at the corners, the edges frayed from the damp weeks she had spent hiding it inside the lining of her coat while relegated to the secondary quarters. This wasn't a sleek piece of aluminum hardware synced to a corporate cloud. It carried no network cards. It had no biometric bypasses that a machine-learning script could mimic or manipulate. It was a completely analog fortress of raw truth.