Little Diary 소설 & 이야기

The old sketch book and the old diary. “I think that has all the answers you need….or at least some of it.” My throat grew both numb and painful at the same time, my fingers trembled as a tear drop stained the worn cover of the diary. The dust covered it lightly after I wiped it off, but I could see the old pink color and the long ropes attached to the book. I pulled it apart and watched as the book fell open. My breath caught in my throat when I started the first page. It wasn’t filled with words, but tiny doodles and drawings all around. Flowers, socks, books, stars, little hearts, and right in the center of the page were three names written over and over again;

I think I need to buy more because what is happening is so exciting for me. In just one day, I use two pages just to tell what happened in my day and how I narrate about what happened when I killed one of my classmates. My diary is literally my friend. He knows a lot about me rathe than a person who doesn’t know even a single fact about me. Even my family does not know the real me. Dear Diary,

she curiously asked. “Uhm... That was a journal, baby. Your personal diary... I mean, if you grow old someday, you will realize things... Things that you couldn’t ask to another person because you will be afraid or scared to make them think that you are weird or something... So if ever that you have some questions about yourself and you don’t know whom to ask it, you can write it down in here...” “Really? Will I be able to find the answer then?” “Maybe... As time passes by, if you read the first pages of this diary, you will finally be able to answer that question all by yourself. It’s because you already experienced it... That’s when you realize that you finally grow a lot over the long per

I had my journal in my hand, somehow I felt a new need to hold on to it everywhere I went. I was with Damien, though I was bruised all over, it was easy to hide the pain. Besides, I was used to being flogged. We were talking about something that made me laugh so hard. It was actually a comedy skit we watched. I almost lost balance, my journal scattered on the ground. I was embarrassed, more embarrassed because the name "Annabelle Steele" was written boldly on its front page.

"Jackpot." I grinned. What better way to know a person's deep, dark secret than through their diary? And with how hidden this one was, there had to be some dirty little secrets. Some recent dirty secrets because the last date was just a few months ago. I sat down on the floor and began reading the first entry. Some minutes and some pages later, I was already getting bored out of my mind. It was just the usual stuff of how her day went and what somebody did to hurt her. Boring drama but no juicy story.

July 2nd, 1943- First Diary Entry. I hate writing and I don't know why granny gave me a diary for my birthday I mean it's a book, I can't even eat it and it's not even cute. Anyway, granny said I would know what to write about when it was time but I think the crazy is getting to her.

When I turn eighteen and leave the orphanage, I can give them all to him at once. I hide the notebook in a crack between the cabinets and use a plastic ruler to retrieve it. I just got it out, but before I can hide it, Leya comes into the room. She's a normal girl and her butt isn't fat anymore; she's lost weight since we were ten. Leya doesn't know about the diary though, so I shove it under the mattress by the headboard and cover it with a pillow. Lucky, my talisman, sits next to my pillow. I know I can trust him.

Thud! My eyes scan my wardrobe, only to find that one of them was slightly opened. I found that weird as I always lock that specific one. That drawer contained my private belongings, which were not a lot. All it contained were my new diary, my menstrual cycle calendar and a few silly notes I had done in the seventh grade when I was “in love”.

Everyone acted differently, am I too oblivious to what surrounds me? I suddenly remembered the diary that I'd been keeping under my bed. I get up and look for it. There, I found it. Grandma gives this to me when I was young. She said that diary can be our best friend. You can write everything there, and if nobody listens to your rants. I'd rather write it down in a diary than share it with someone who can't even understand the words I tell.