Notebook Novels & Stories

"The fourth notebook is not a continuation of the third. It is a different kind of record. The third notebook documents what was done to people. The fourth notebook documents how people describe what was done to them. Those are not the same document. One is evidence. The other is testimony. Both matter. Only one belongs entirely to the person who gives it." She buys the fourth notebook on a Thursday at the stationery supply on Silver Hollow's commercial street, which is an ordinary shop that sells pens and paper and notebooks to a cit

The electric fence hissed, alive with power. From here, the building didn’t look like much. Just steel walls sunk into the earth, a boxy shell with floodlights and watchtowers. But she knew the truth: most of it was underground. A labyrinth of labs and cells, reinforced doors and biometric locks. A prison for things the world wasn’t ready to face. And somewhere inside was Cerebus. Her best friend. Her only friend. Ellie tightened the straps on her backpack. She reached up and touched the collar dangling from it — Alpha, Beta, Gamma. The brass tags clinked softly, like the chiming of a promise.

How fitting. I turned the flashlight on my phone on and looked around. I wondered how much this cost to arrange, but it wasn’t like it would hurt me. I noticed something taped to the coffin with my name on it. I opened the envelope, which held directions to what looked like a cabin. A note inside said the cabin was set up so it wouldn’t allow light in, but I could do what I needed to my specifications. It looked like it was within running distance of Dominique’s place.

I state and she nods while typing, but as she enters my rank and name a beep sounds. "Captain it looks like there is an active note on your file. Council member Hik has requested a meeting with you," she says and my stomach leaps as I hear the name of the council member who handles retirement. "Is he available," I ask trying to keep my voice even and she nods. "He is. I will beep him. Give me a moment," she replies before pressing another button. "Councilman Hik, Captian Cull from planet Shikaz is here," she states and the clear button flashes green.

"That is a good phrase." Don looked at him. "You have been writing in the journal," he said. "The journal is also a record. The journal is the mind's record, not the body's. The journal organizes. It narrates. It makes sense of things. The notebook is different. The notebook is the body's record. The notebook does not organize. It collects."

After hanging up the phone, Arielle took out her notebook and took it to the bathroom. Sitting on the toilet, she opened her notebook. This is a heavy-looking notebook. Compared with the thin and light ones, it is not beautiful at all. It looks like an old antique. Anyone who looks at it will think it is worthless. But, otherwise, this notebook works extremely fast, and it contains some things that ordinary people have never seen before.

The first thing I noticed was the notebook. Soft leather. Ivory-colored. Elegant but simple. My fingers brushed across the cover, and my heart skipped when I saw the gold foil lettering pressed perfectly into the surface. A.D. My initials. How were they able to do that! I slowly opened it, running my thumb along the thick cream pages. The paper felt expensive…smooth, almost silky. The kind of notebook you wouldn’t want to ruin with messy sketches. The kind that made you want to draw something worthy of it.

It seems to be something quite important to her. “Yay! Here it is!!! I finally found it.” Anna took a notebook with a black cover. The outside was covered with a leather cloth, and although the edge of the cover was worn but visible, this notebook was very well preserved. Flipping the first few pages, Anna happily read the contents of the notebook written by hand. At a glance, all seemed to be formulas and some sample solutions for math. Anna put the old notebook on the table, took the pink paper that had been straightened, and read the topic on it again.

And like that, we were in front of my quarters at the east end of the long walkway. “Let’s get in,” he said. “Wow, a huge flat screen television, and is that a game console?” he asked, with a hint of excitement. “Yeah, it is a Playbox series R pro infinity edition” “What the heck is that!? What type of naming sense is that?” he replied, laughing hysterically. “Okay now, let’s get to class”. Then he said; “System, take us to the realm of infinity.”