Novel & Cerita The Dumont Diaries

It’s a diary. For several seconds, he simply stares at it. She forgot her diary? Carefully, he picks it up. The cover is worn around the edges, used often. Very often. Opening the front cover, his eyes drop to the first page. This diary belongs to: TROY SUMMERS Summers? He didn't even know her surname. Back then, it didn't matter. They were just two starving children trying to survive another winter. His thumb lingers over the page, then he shuts the diary immediately. He sets it on the bedside table with force and intention.

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.*

I flipped the page of my notebook, leaning down to grab my textbook from the door beside my chair. And that’s when the idea struck. Slowly, deliberately, I let the book slip from my fingers. It hit the floor with a soft thud. “Oh—" I bent down immediately to pick it up and the classroom suddenly felt very quiet. Very still. I didn’t rush. Instead, I took my time reaching for the book, my skirt shifting slightly as I moved. A risky move. A deliberate move. For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then— Jeff cleared his throat sharply.

S‍he‌ had spe​nt si​x‌ hou‌rs turni‌ng the pa​ges with a p​air⁠ of cotton gloves, h‍er eye​s burning from t‌he tiny, cram‌ped⁠ German sc​ript of the post-war port inspectors. D​amien sat acr‌os‌s fro⁠m her, h‍is large⁠ frame l​o‍ok‍ing absurdly out o‍f plac‌e‍ i⁠n the deli‌cate, hi‍gh-​bac​ked wooden​ chair. He had t‌hree​ leg​al ledger‍s from the Luxemb‌ourg stee‌l tranches open before him, his thic‍k t⁠humb tracki‍n‌g the co​lu​m⁠ns of‍ raw tonnage figu​res like a man trying to calculate the w‌e​igh‍t‍ of​ a mountain.‍

"Miss, aren't you leaving?" the butler reminded me gently from behind. Taking a deep breath, I forced a polite smile and approached Leonard Burton slowly. I was dreading every step I took as scenes from my past life flashed before my eyes. He had pushed me out of harm's way just before the accident happened. His diary had been full of his yearning for Yelena Lynch, the name he had murmured in his dream subconsciously. "Leonard," I called out softly.

Slowly, she opened it. The first thing she saw was handwriting, familiar and bold. Her breath caught in her throat. Her chest tightened as her eyes fell on the neat scrawl of a name on the first page: NATHANIEL MULLER This was Nathaniel’s diary. For a moment, she hesitated. Then, with trembling fingers, she turned to the first entry. ********** July 21st, 2016

For some reason, I feel nervous as I pull out the book. A strange rune is etched onto the front. It isn’t one I have seen before. Untwisting the string that holds the book closed, I gently open the cover. This is Morgan’s diary. I glance around my new office, looking for anyone who might be watching me. Bruno is snoring loudly on the couch against the wall. Sinking into my chair, I flip through the pages. This diary dates back farther than any book I have ever read. Propping my feet onto the desk, I begin to read the first entry.

"Maybe this diary holds the key to uncovering more about my past." Sonia sat alone in her room, engrossed in the contents of Frank's diary and records spread out in front of her. With meticulous care, she arranged them in chronological order based on the dates inscribed on each page. Deeply curious, she decided to begin with the entry that coincided with her own birth year.

Dante asked while he beamed. Raymond produced Etiennette's diary from his chest pocket and said with a smile, "With this, you'll be able to win Ms. Isla over, Mr. Harrington." The others were puzzled when they saw Raymond showing them a diary. They were wondering how a book was supposed to help Dante win Isla's heart. Dante took the diary. He was also puzzled as he flipped through the pages. He looked up at Raymond with a perplexed look. "I suspect that Ms. Isla Pendragon is the owner of this diary, Etiennette Pascal. The only thing is that she has lost her memories," said Raymond.