Observation Diary Novels & Stories

I fold her blanket with the same creases she always put in it and I smooth the top flat and I do not let myself stand there with my hand on it this time. I sit down and I open the only thing I have that functions as a notebook, a folded piece of paper I bartered for two weeks ago under the guise of needing it for the sewing workshop. I look at the marks I've made on it. The rotation diagram. The times. The eastern dock sketch I've been refining from memory, guard positions, gate mechanism, the water beyond. I add what I observed yesterday.

Except for the book, which he carried out to take a proper look at it. Joe jumped on the bed and placed the book before him to rest on the bed. He opened the first page gently. The book wrote dear diary on its first page. Joe adjusted his sitting position to lay on the bed to enjoy the content. “I never thought I would also be writing a diary of my own, well, I guess I am now” the next line of the diary stated. “The first experience I would like to write about on this day being the second day in the month of November 2021 is that…

**Racehal's Breath: A Journey of Determination** In the dimly lit room, Racehal sat at her desk, her eyes fixed on the worn pages of her diary. The soft rustle of paper filled the air as she turned the pages, each one filled with her aspirations and dreams. It was a ritual she had come to cherish, a moment of quiet reflection before the chaos of the day unfolded.

I got dressed in my blue nightwear and walked to the window, looking out of it as usual into the empty streets, before pulling the curtains down and walking into the room. It has been my routine for the past three years to ensure our safety and that no one was secretly watching us. I grabbed the torch I usually keep by the bed and took out a diary with a black cover from the drawer before moving to sit at the table opposite the bed. Glancing at April one last time, I picked up a bed and opened the diary, flipping through the pages before arriving at a blank page. *Day 1101*

Nodding my head a bit, I fluttered open my eyes and took further steps. Diary writing is no less than a meditation for me to which I look forward to every night. Even now that's all I want to do. Just reach back home and write all these feelings in there. It's like I write a part of my heart in there and then just close it forever for no one to ever know about it. Sighing, It's a dark and cold night. As I took steps ahead, the creepy sense of being watched by someone suddenly fogged my mind.

But that very move alone was what prompted yet another discovery. A more sudden and nerve racking discovery that paused me on my feet. My eyes zeroing in on it. Hidden in all the mess… a notepad. A red notepad, strangely familiar the longer I spent staring at it. “What’s this?” I reached for it, eyebrows furrowed. Feeling the smooth surface before flipping it open. And what I saw… it just stopped my heart for a minute. Breath hanging as i read the words; “Day 2; I met a sad boy, dear diary. A sad boy who doesn’t cry.”

The words written under it were in a language I couldn't understand. Turning to the next page, I see the picture of a small newborn laying near a river bank with Thunder striking the sky. I turn more pages to see a tree in the centre with women surrounding it, and kneeling in front of it. These pictures...what were these? What are they trying to say? "What is this?" I ask him , looking confused at all the pictures and descriptions. "It's a diary I have made by collecting all the information I can on the death wolf." . .

After hesitating for a while, he flipped open the diary to take a peek. It was a typical diary with many scribbles and writings. Gently flipping through the pages, he read the first few lines on the first page of the diary. 12-10-2020 So the doctor asked me to try to keep a journal and write down my personal feelings. Don’t know how that’s going to help but here goes nothing. Getting confused, Alex flipped through the pages, skimming through similar scribbles of how his day went and how his life was going in general. One thing was constant through the pages and it was how he kept on mentioning Alex.

She was feeling amazing and excited because for the very first time, Thyago finally notices and known her existence. When she got home after class, she went straight through her bedroom. Feeling happy and inspired, she decided to make a diary of her own. Not necessarily a typical diary where she'll write about her daily living, it was more like a journal where she will write down all the kept emotions and feelings she has for Thyago. She planned to chronicle all her interactions and emotions she had for Thyago. Something inside her wanted to write and savor this feeling of happiness she has for him because if not, her heart will explode in too much excitement and joy. And there into her bedr

Instead, she shifted gears, asking, "What were you reading?" I snapped my fingers, and my journal reappeared in my hand. It was a treasured possession, filled with entries spanning the past 100 years. I had amassed a collection of these journals, each one a testament to my love of recording every detail of my life. I wrote about experiences, adventures, thoughts, plans, and ideas - nothing was left unrecorded.