The Diary Novel Novels & Stories

She wants to be like Rose who gets perfection, especially Rose's heart, to be extraordinarily broad. Cheryl's cat eyes roamed around Rose's room. Her eyes stopped at Rose's bookshelf. Rose has an extensive collection of books, from books of knowledge, philosophy, novels, to comics. Cheryl approached the bookshelf and looked at the novel shelf. One book with a pink cover caught her attention, Cheryl turned to the first page, but she stopped. Cheryl's mind was out of focus. Finally, Cheryl closed the novel and put it into place. Unintentionally, Cheryl's beads caught a fairly thick notebook. Cheryl pulled the book, and it was Rose's diary. The diary is so aesthetic because Rose has decorated i

She marvelled at her erratic heart beats and wondered if they would ever get normal in his presence. As she searched her bag for the comb, she found the small handpocket sized diary that she bought in a thrift store a long time back. She opened it and skimmed through the enty pages of the book when a crazy creative idea popped up. Smiling to herself, she picked a pen from the nearby table as she decided to write about all the beautiful memories she had with Ronan the previous day. This way, she can relive them whenever she wanted without missing out on even the smallest details. Excerpts from Anya's Diary:

Checking through the books, I noticed a black diary which lay under the books and it got me curious. I don't know why, but having to read Mac's diary became an urge that I could not resist. I picked up the book and flipped its pages open. All the stuff he wrote bored the hell out of me and I was about to give up on the diary when I saw a recent write-up and it had my name written on it. Dear Diary It's been a long time since I last saw you. I guess life issues could make one forget a friend. Anyway, lots have happened over the past few months. I have hit my ninety-nine mark on the register of girls I will fuck before leaving school.

It seemed like a normal diary in the beginning parts, he was still a kid then so be mostly penned down childish stuff. She could barely read up to a quarter of the diary while she enjoyed the life of her young dad, Nicole stayed up all night reading the diary hoping to finish the whole thing in one night. Quite an ambitious goal, soon she fell asleep with the diary laying upon her chest. Once Nicole woke up, she grabbed the diary to continue from were she stopped. She had barely glanced through a couple of lines when she head a crackling noise on her hotel room door. “who is that?” she asked out of fright.

I'm sure you'll know it's him when you cross parts with him* *If you find a girl or a boy(hopefully it's a girl hopefully she's lovable enough for you. You know what I mean) with the frequency, she will need the journal. Not this one. There's another journal. She probably won't be able to read it until she's ready, but when she is, the Harland collection has a companion text that describes the process. The companion text is called the Respondent. If the man has the collection, he may have the Respondent too.*

The first image nearly knocks the air out of my lungs. A woman. Beautiful. Fierce. Eyes sharp with intelligence and sorrow. Blue fire dancing effortlessly in her hands like it belongs there. And in her arms. A baby. My breath goes shallow. That is not a legend. That is a memory. I turn the page. And freeze. This is not a history book. It’s a diary. Handwritten entries. Personal notes. Dates. Emotions bleeding through ink. Why would a woman’s diary be locked away in the forbidden section of the academy library.

Regardless, I had promised to tell her everything, and I was going to keep that promise. “And that's where her diary came about. She was so excited, and gratitude to the goddess had prompted her to acquire a diary. Its main purpose was to go back and reminisce about the past—maybe whenever she felt like she was beginning to forget. That's why the writing was real, so that she could feel it again through the writing. You read how everything tragically changed from happiness to sadness, right? From there, there's nothing much to say since you've read them. Your question of whether she killed herself or not...”

Amelia's POV And there I was, hanging out in the darkness of the library. I really closed all the curtains fully so nobody could sneak a peek. My heart was pounding violently as Theo, one of the boys working here, closed the door. The tight uniform suited his body structure and showed his wide shoulders. He stared right at me, like I was starving him. I suddenly started pulling my skirt up slowly. I was feeling super tight in my corset that made me gasp for air, squeezing all the air out.

My blood ran cold. It was a photo of a diary. Not just any diary, my diary. One with a faded purple cover, edges worn, and pages bent from too much use. I knew it instantly. It was the one I’d started writing in after I found out I’d been replaced... after I came back to a world that had moved on without me, after Nerissa had taken my place in everything I’d once called home. I had sixteen diaries just like it, each one filled with every fear, heartbreak, and memory I couldn’t say out loud. I thought I’d hidden them. Or burned them. I didn’t even know they were still at my family’s house. Or at least one of them.

Maybe he had been using this and I just was too blind to see it. I put the book back trying to match where it had been hoping he wouldn’t think I was snooping. Turning back to the book shelves I looked further at the many diaries. It brought back memories of the one I had lost but maybe I could still gain something from some of the other ones. I pulled out one but it was written in some weird style. I opened the diary but the words were jumbled. They weren’t even human. What was going on with it? I flipped through page after page getting entranced with the very writing until the book was snatched from my hands.