Tom Riddle's Diary Novels & Stories

She knew first aid, so grabbing some smelling salts from the bathroom cabinet, she revived her daughter, applied some ice to her wound to manage the pain and then, assuring her that help would arrive any minute, she dashed outside in search for her husband. Natalie was still trying to make sense of everything, but her memories were quite hazy. She remembered going upstairs for her phone, but that was pretty much it, she couldn’t recall anything else. No, wait. The diary! She remembered seeing a diary wrapped in a bow on her dresser, and even remembered wondering how her parents had been able to sneak the diary into her room when they had been downstairs with her the whole time. Natalie recal

I assumed you were awake. She grinned and stroked his tense nipple. "I am right now." She then frowned. "He's dead, isn't he?" "Indeed, Ravena. "I'm really sorry he was the one." He rubbed her hair. "My very own flesh and blood." "How did you find out about Ritka's diary?" “Carol had a vision that Ritka had buried it under deceased patient papers in Doc's office, where no one would suspect it. We didn't know if she'd written anything damning, but she had to be worried that Sheridan might turn on her."

and I can't help myself. **** We read through his diary or whatever he called it. And learnt some shocking details. Russell was sick and the entries that he had written down were all about me and those killed. Where he made it seem as if we were dating, and part take in some very detailed activities. He went as far as making it out as if I was the one that was crazy and stalking him. "We should get rid of these." Felix said. "Wait." I took the book from him and read something that caught my eye, then laughed.

The top-right corners of the pages keep crumbling into charcoal. I stare at the burnt diary. This is the diary of someone who must have gotten seriously hurt in that day’s blast, I think. Not many people survived the blast; I was one of the few who did. The diary is in bad shape. It doesn’t look as though the person to whom it belongs would have survived the blast. I open the first unburned page. There is no name. Just the initials—RD. ‘You’re late’, Shrey looks at me and says.

Tobi asked staring at me seriously. "That is a problem, brother," I replied him as I walked out of the room and the others followed me. I searched for a moment and later found the hidden door, the door that led to the Lugard family archives. I opened my hand and opened the door with a key that Badmus had earlier squeezed into my hand. Then I ran straight to the cage that Harold Lugard was supposed to be in. "It is empty, brother," I declared to Tobi. "Who is this Harold person supposed to be?" Sheyi asked confusingly.

Almost like there was something to hide. At the end was some kind of shrine lit by hundreds of candles, with a book in the center. It seemed to be some kind of a diary. There was a scrap of fabric wedged in the pages that Jill recognised as her mother's perfume. This strange mystery made everyone curious as they began to read its pages. It would seem that this diary belonged to the very man the juggernauts were trying to bring back. Not only that but he clearly knew Jill’s mother. Was he the friend she met before Sean stopped her?

I just wanted to be around him, or maybe wish him good luck on his bike race. Just then, I found a book. It looked eerie, old, but then special. It wasn't dusty for the place where it was kept. I brought it out and swiped through it and noticed it was a diary. Why does he have a diary? But then, while I turned each page, I realized it wasn't Dimitri's diary. It was a girl's diary. She was heartbroken and sad. Then I went to the last page. The last few sentences sent shivers down my spine: "Chased after me. He wasn't just an ordinary guy. He was a secret underground lord." I shut the book immediately in fright. What? Who would have read such a scary diary and used those words as their last pa

I would run to throw up after every meal. "You were supposed to tell me something earlier," he pressed, and this time, I was determined to answer in a way that wouldn't make him lose his composure. I knew if I told him I had seen a video, he would insist on watching it, and once he did, he would never find peace. "He has a diary with everyone's name in it--from those who are dead to his future victims," I mumbled, noticing his knuckles turning white. I was hesitant to show him the diary for now.

Kai said, his voice completely steady now, the absolute neutrality of his tone hiding the vast, grey ruin that had finally taken over his chest. Ria didn't smile, but her shoulders dropped by a fraction of an inch—the small, physical recognition that the long wait was finally over, that the sand had run through the glass, and that they were finally moving back into the line of the current. She knelt beside the leather trunk, her fingers locking the brass buckles with two sharp, metallic snaps that echoed through the dark kitchen like the sound of a latch dropping into a groove. Ria’s diary entry from that final midnight hour was written on the very last page of the ledger, the ink thick and

The kids might want closure someday. "Fine. Give me the storage unit key. I will handle it." The storage unit was small and sad. One box of belongings. One urn of ashes. I opened the box. Prison letters. Photos of the kids. A journal. Against my better judgment, I opened the journal. Page after page of Richard's thoughts. His regrets. His justifications. His delusions. And on the last page, words that made my blood run cold. "I know I am dying. But death is not the end. I have made arrangements. People who will carry out my wishes when I am gone. Evelyn will never truly be free of me. Never. R.H."