Observation Diary Novels & Stories

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." . .

Don't be afraid of it. He sat with that for a long time. ______ The second thing in the box was a small journal. Older than the letter, the cover worn soft with handling, the pages dense with his grandmother's everyday handwriting, observations and records spanning what looked like decades. He didn't read it all. He read sections, enough to understand that she had been tracking something across her entire adult life, a thread that ran through multiple generations of her own family and that connected, in ways he was only beginning to map, to things he had been sitting adjacent to for the past year without understanding his own position in them.

I am Sandra and I live in a small country in Europe with my smaller brother and my parents. Brought this Diary last week and I thought I should record my daily life here. So today is 23/9/2023 just another day during the winter holidays between the two semesters. That’s why I had a lot of time and I spent my days taking long baths, masturbating, reading and watching stuff on the internet. Every weekend I would get out with my friends to have fun but I was mostly at home which I was enjoying to its fullest.

Our bedroom became a place to rest instead of a place to brace ourselves. I bought a journal in March at a bookstore near the foundation offices. Nothing fancy, just a simple leather-bound notebook. That night after the kids were asleep, I sat at the kitchen table and wrote about our life. The mundane, ordinary moments that felt like gifts. Monte is losing his first tooth and putting it under his pillow with such ceremony. Sophia refused to wear anything but her princess costume for three days straight. Four burning pancakes on Saturday morning and Monte telling him it was okay because they tasted good anyway.

I should try understanding this entry a little later. I put down the paper and picked up another diary entry. And that's when I noticed that the previous entry I was reading doesn't have any year at it, and the fate format has changed. Compare to the one I am holding right now, the first one is very much more a rant but the date and time seems off… I just shrug my shoulder and proceed to read the other one. “9th of September, Year 1525. I saw it. I saw the entrance of the abyss.”

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.

and I'm still celebrating it alone like I did the previous year. Although , the weather looks good enough for my comfort today. But the wind has failed to take my pain away along with it.' He flipped through the many pages, and as he was about to close it up due to how much her words were piercing through his heart–The words in this diary were like a sharp edge of a dagger. As he was about to close it, his eyes fell on a particular date that gripped his attention. This date was a very special one to him , although he never showed that he really cared about it but it was. November 14, Strange Weather. ' It's strange, isn't it? I woke up with a groggy body today. What's more, it's raining and

I start to write, my hand moving quickly across the paper: "Dear Diary, Today is the day I decided to spend an entire day naked. I know it sounds crazy, but I just couldn't resist the urge. I'm going to do everything naked – watch TV, eat, clean the house, maybe even dance around a little. I'm not sure what possessed me to do this, but I'm excited to see where the day takes me. Wish me luck!"

I took out my phone, adjusted the angle, and snapped a quick picture of the certificate before restoring everything else to its original place. But the diary… I hesitated for only a moment before flipping it open. Its spine creaked like a dying whisper. The first pages were nothing—childish scribbles, mundane moments of her past. "Mom yelled at me today." "Isaac brought me ice cream." "Isaac played with me." So ordinary. So innocent. I almost laughed. She really had no idea what kind of world she belonged to now, did she?

The kind you’d expect from a bored, spoiled girl. But then on the fifth page of one of the older journals—I found something. Something that sent a chill down my spine. “Dear diary, Today is March, 2012. I will see him again. I’ve only seen him once before, but he’s the kind of person I know I can’t be with. I’m writing this down so maybe one day I’ll remember because I forget things so easily. Oh, I forget things so easily. But the one thing I can’t forget… are his eyes.