Observation Diary Novels & Stories

I couldn't have been more thankful that it wasn't that busy here today-- these people would have shot anyone and everyone. I couldn't tell you how, but I had managed to create a fake sense of calm in order to remain motionless. I kept my eyes only slightly open, trying not to blink much even as the rain poured into my eyes. I made notes of everything I could see about the shooters— their cars, guns, facial features, clothes; you name it, I took note.

June said quite angrily. We came out in the woods. It was my first time ever out in the woods. Since I was weak, my father would never let me pass the border. It was so deep that even though it was almost noon, the sun rays were not even touching the ground. It was so dark everywhere. "What are we doing here? I can't even see any traces of flowers except for the orchids hanging from here and there," June yelled low key in an annoyed tone. "Don't touch them. Some of them can be very poisonous," I said.

There's still a lot to do today in preparation for your third wedding anniversary tomorrow with Lobo, not to mention the preparations that need to be made for the banquet. Wait, what?" Do you mean to say that the banquet is tomorrow? "Well, yes, don't you remember?" The dagger had pierced my chest so forcefully that I reached up and placed my palm there, but there was no visible damage. Maybe everything that had happened was just a dream. I promptly hopped out of bed and went directly to my desk, pulling my diary from the drawer. This journal helped me immensely with day-to-day life management. I kept track of official events and pack-related activities in there, as well as my mood and a sum

He didn't know what is a diary. "Diary is a book in which a person keeps his or her daily record of events and experiences," Suzy answered Tubby. Erella looked at her tiny friend with awe. She didn't expect that Suzy has a lot of knowledge in her. No wonder she was always the one who was sensible between the three of them. "So it was your father's life in that book?" Eddy asked. She nodded her head. "I want to listen. I want to listen."Tubby said with excitement.

"No, I'll just tell him I found the note on the floor." I touched Wendy's shoulder, "thank you for telling me." When we finally get to the open country, which was only an hour from Walker's Inc. I could see the damages done to our windmills and a few pipe lines. "Mr Walker." A man greeted my father. "Joe." My Father nodded at one of his longtime and trusted worker. He had a bandage over his eye, and was walking with a limp as he came over to us. "Can you please show us the video? I know my daughter can work her magic and make the resolution of it better."

My quiet life was a thing of the past, everything around me seemed to be falling apart without knowing what to do. It was around eight o'clock at night, all the lights in my house were off and my parents were already asleep. The environment was very quiet and therefore I could clearly hear the cars passing on the road. I closed my eyes tightly hoping to fall asleep at once and when I thought I would finally make it, I heard the unmistakable whistle of a little bird. I jumped up telling myself that it was impossible and tried to hear something as I lay motionless on the bed, I remembered that sound perfectly and it wasn't from a little bird at all. My breathing started to get really rough and

Because of her photographic memory, her ability to recall exactly what she had seen was top notch. All these years, she had dutifully written down every single vision she had seen, starting with the one of her and Hazel. It didn’t matter if she could change the vision or not. Whether it happened or not. She just jotted everything down. Perhaps one day, the diary entries would come in handy and she would get to save a lot of lives. With that in mind, she flipped to the next page where another entry awaited to be written and she sighed heavily as she wrote down the disturbing title; THE GRUESOME MASSACRE.

One year later. Chelsea’s Diary. ***** Dear Diary, The beautiful grasslands, bright sunshine, and enormous acres of undeveloped land never cease to astonish me. Every morning, I wake up just before dawn to hear the first tweets of native birds and the delicate rustle of towering trees kissing the sky outside my window.

Research. Patrol reports. Archive work. Normal life. However, each day the secret grew a little bigger. Not quite as easy to miss. Slightly more real. I decided at some time that it was not a possibility. Did not think about documentation. Tossed ideas of theory out the window. It became fact. Simple. Permanent. Real. One night I stood beside the windows of the observatory and looked out over the mountain. The lower forests were covered with the leaves of autumn. The network is smooth and quiet under all. Ninety-two threads.

It arrived. The second notebook's account was structured differently from the personal record. Where the personal record had moved from the break toward the healing toward the gate letter for the person standing outside, the second notebook moved from the present moment outward — from the specific act of making an introduction or writing a gate letter or seeing a missing thing, toward the understanding of what the act required and what it produced.