《Dear Diary [Complete]》 Thou who’s struck... Walking home, his phone playing Down with the sickness via one earbud, Alex scratched his shaven chin. He loathed people forcing you to listen to their music because of their volume, so his was enough he could hear but not bother everybody else. Not that there was anyone else around him, having lost the bus slash train like most of his classmates. Fault of the teacher, that old man never stopped talking. Every Friday was the same deal, a lovely gift to finish the week. ¡®Well, the weekend is here.¡¯ he thought mentally sighing. Alex had to pass through a park going home and he hated it. Today especially, not sure why. The city said they didn¡¯t possess the money to renovate it, he said they didn¡¯t care. No working lampposts, garbage, eerie silence, undergrowth thick and growing onto the paved road. At least he didn¡¯t need the phone to light the path, the houses at the edges enough as long as you didn¡¯t wander into the jungle. He warmed his hands, the cold seeping through his thick clothes and kept walking, one step after the other until something struck his head, hard. ¡®Ouch, Goddammit!¡¯ With a muffled thud, the object hit the ground, Alex groaning and too busy clutching his head and holding back tears to pay attention. ¡®That fucking hurts!¡¯ he screamed in his mind. He massaged the bruise, feeling the rapidly growing bump, inspecting his fingers for blood he didn¡¯t find. Alex turned to the culprit, assuming it was a pine cone or something of the sort fallen from a tree. Some anger was mounting inside him, completely unjustified. It¡¯s not like the Diary had hit him on purpose. Not at all. ¡®A book?¡¯ Alex walked up to it, scanning the surroundings with his blue eyes. Books didn¡¯t fall from trees nor the sky, so someone had thrown it. Except no one was nearby, nobody he could see. With nothing else to do he studied the diary still convinced it was a book and not, how it was clearly visible to everyone, a diary. The cover was black and rigid, smooth, similar to leather but tougher. ¡®Not ominous at all¡¯ he thought, demonstrating unreasonable prejudice. No details were present, no title or scratch. Apart from the dirt ruining the magnificent splendor of the Diary. Alex, however, didn¡¯t take notice, denoting incredible contempt for what was truly important. Satisfied admiring the stunning cover Alex opened to the first page, reading through it. He was lazily swimming about, many of its brethren together in this warm, comfortable place. His home was moving with a certain rhythm, forward and backward, forward and backward, as it had for the last minute or so. His brothers and sisters could barely notice the movement, the liquid in which they lived cushioning most of it. Until finally, his purpose became clear, the liquid and many of its brothers disappearing at high speed into the beyond. It was his turn to shine, finally! He whizzed forward, carried by the current, briskly entering another warm place, this one with much less liquid but still cozy. This was his calling, his destiny, and he would show them all! He would win against everyone else, demonstrate He was the fastest! ¡®What the hell is this?¡¯ Alex thought, skipping forward a bunch of pages. Alex surreptitiously examined the new baby in his home. Mom and Dad had named her Jenna, his sister. They had fawned over her for the last half an hour, not sure why, that girl had done nothing apart from sleeping. She just lied there, not doing anything, and Alex felt jealous his parents were overlooking him. ¡®What the hell?!¡¯ Jenna was Alex¡¯s sister¡¯s name, and this book seemed to write about his family. No, him. This wasn¡¯t a book, however, but a Diary. Alex, poor guy, was evidently having trouble using his brain. His heart beat faster now, a single bead of sweat on his forehead despite the cold. He was almost losing it. Almost. In a hurry he skipped more pages, looking for the ending, too frightened to read the others. Reaching it, he stared wide-eyed as the words formed in front of his eyes describing what he was doing right now, reading these exact words. He stood there unmoving for ten seconds unsure how to react, his heart beating faster and faster. Throwing the diary away he moved a few steps back. This act wasn¡¯t needed and incredibly rude, the cover now even filthier, the pages open for all to see. ¡°What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck!¡± he exclaimed grasping his head, This is the new shit playing in the background. He took a few more steps back as if space would save him somehow. For whoever is reading, distance grants no fleeing.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Alex pinched his cheek hard, trying to wake up. It didn¡¯t work, this wasn¡¯t a dream. He removed the earbud warily watching the surroundings. This was some kind of elaborate prank, no? Cameras were around and soon someone would laugh and joke about his terrified face. Nobody appeared, no joke was here. Gathering his bearings, Alex finding calm in the delusion of a candid camera, he walked closer to the diary and poked with his right foot. That shoe had walked three hundred fifty-six kilometers, among other things through mud and dog shit, and just touched the Diary. Diary didn¡¯t appreciate that. The seventeen-year-old boy picked up the diary once again, reading the page it had opened to. beautiful, breathtaking. Alex took a deep breath, the clean air filling his lungs. The mountains always pervaded him with vitality, energy. Regarding the world below him, the small houses in the lush valley made him feel¡­ powerful, at the top of the world. Alex closed his eyes and stopped, unable to continue. If this was a joke, it was extremely elaborate. Of course, this book was undoubtedly an electrical device, as it could write independently. Meaning he could break it. Whoever had organized this farce would surely prepare for that, and if not, they would prevent it. Alex took hold of the page, ripping it from the diary. Or more like tried, as the page didn¡¯t tear, surprising Alex. The pages didn¡¯t appear sturdy nor thick. They were normal paper pages, but Alex had convinced himself they weren¡¯t. The teenager took out his phone, examining the paper against its light, sure wires or processors inside would be discernible. And yet he discovered nothing, the pages normal paper. ¡®Maybe I should just abandon it here.¡¯ heretic thoughts occurred in Alex¡¯s mind, but he immediately realized that wouldn¡¯t be safe. What if¡­ this wasn¡¯t a joke? What if the book (diary) kept writing about his life? Whoever found it afterward would obtain an incredible weapon against him. Not that he had any enemies, but the knowledge someone could read about his thoughts and actions was unsettling, to say the least. ¡®I should destroy it.¡¯ he incorrectly concluded and nodded, his course of action clear. Now, how to accomplish that? Paper or electronics, both hated water. He only had to walk back and throw it in the nearby river, and the diary would be history. An ineffective blow, oh reading fellow. He didn¡¯t take long to arrive at the riverside, Alex giving one last glimpse at the diary before throwing it into the freezing water. He watched satisfied the diary disappearing before stepping away, the stream carrying it downstream. Hopefully, this would be the end. A bucketful of cold water surprised Alex, followed by a familiar head strike. The idiot keeled over, crying in pain, both from the hit and the frigid water. Doesn¡¯t feel good, does it? The now angered nitwit power-walked to the diary, stomping it again and again. Would have been intimidating if the boy wasn¡¯t thin and dripping, making it funnier than anything else. Breathing hard and mildly satisfied at his petty revenge, Alex realized this didn¡¯t make sense. Unless advanced aliens were playing a prank on him, there was no way this could happen. A book dropping from the sky? Sure, perhaps a plane had dropped it. The same book reappearing, drenching him with frigid water, as if in reprisal? Wait, was it the same? The cover was identical, but the content may not. Not a freaking book, but a diary. Barely surprised the pages weren¡¯t soaked, a glance at the first page made him realize it started the same way, and Alex turned to the final page. That had changed, writing about the previous happenings and the fact that he was reading this very exact phrase. ¡°What the fuck¡­¡± he whispered using his highly articulate vocabulary. ¡°Articulate¡­ you messing with me?¡± he fiercely demanded, the diary smugly raising his nose. ¡°You don¡¯t have a nose! Why am I speaking to a diary?!¡± he snapped, not realizing he didn¡¯t need to speak. ¡®Wait, you can read my thoughts?¡¯ Alex asked in his mind, eyes opening wider, a cold water droplet dripping onto the diary. Diary didn¡¯t appreciate that. ¡°You can communicate, what the fuck are you?¡± he asked, shaking his head, body quivering from cold and fear. If only he had been gentler with the Diary, this plight wouldn¡¯t have happened. ¡°The diary? Why are you speaking in third person? And can you stop writing what I¡¯m doing? It¡¯s¡­ unsettling.¡± he friendly asked, trying to curry favor with the Diary. ¡°I¡¯m not trying currying favor with you!¡± he rebutted, lying through his teeth. This dumb teenager thought he could lie to the Diary, pfff. ¡°You- asshole! I have a diary who can record my life and it¡¯s an asshole!¡± he yelled to the wind, the sole listener. ¡°Fine. Fine.¡± he added, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. ¡°Let¡¯s start over. I¡¯m sorry I mistreated you.¡± he lied, not sorry one bit. ¡°Okay, fine, I¡¯m not sorry. You landed on my head, and you¡¯re spying me! You¡¯ve done it my whole life! What the fuck is the first page about anyway?¡± he asked, not recognizing his spermatozoon life. ¡°My life¡­¡± he closed his eyes, struggling to forget that part. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s leave it at that. Can you stop?¡± he asked and waited for a few seconds. ¡°Well?¡± he urged. ¡°Hellooo? I can see you¡¯re writing what I¡¯m saying and doing. Answer me.¡± he demanded, shaking the Diary. Alex remained silent, the only noises a few cars in the distance and Breaking the habit in the background. ¡°You also recognize songs¡­ Why aren¡¯t you speaking anymore? You can¡¯t?¡± he inquired, seeking to probe information and ask favors from an offended Diary without even feeling sorry for what he had done. ¡°It¡¯s not- I don¡¯t. *sigh*. You write onomatopoeia too. Listen, I didn¡¯t realize you were¡­ are... alive. We got off to a rough start. I¡¯m Alex, but you know that. What¡¯s your name?¡± he asked, not realizing Diary was the name of this remarkable diary. Dimwit ¡°Sheesh, relax. No need to be so petty.¡± Alex said trying to defuse the situation. ¡°Fine. Well, diary, you know I¡¯m bad at conversations. Can you¡­ stop writing about me? Please?¡± he pleaded, not stating the name Diary with the capital D. ¡°How the fuck do I speak with capitals?¡± he complained. ¡°Okay, fine. You can¡¯t or won¡¯t stop writing about me. I can¡¯t abandon or destroy you. What do you want me to do?¡± he asked, the Diary confused by the question. Why would a Diary desire something? ¡°So, you want nothing aside writing about me? Why me?¡± he asked, expecting an answer from an unliving piece of paper. ¡°You- I do expect an answer! You¡¯re replying me! And making petty remarks all the time!¡± he shrieked at the Diary as if it would change anything. Alex was fed up. ¡°Fine. You know what? I¡¯ll burn you. Yes, I¡¯ll use you as kindling if you don¡¯t answer me. Water didn¡¯t work, what about fire?¡± he threatened, waving the Diary, confident he would terrify it. ¡®You¡¯ll see.¡¯ Alex thought, closing the Diary and walking home. ...Great is thy luck. It didn¡¯t take long to reach Alex¡¯s home, a two-floor villa with a private garden surrounded by hedges. His parents weren¡¯t home yet, only his sister, right now in her room watching an anime. Alex paid no mind to Jenna and went straight to the kitchen, right of the entrance, to grab a lighter. Once outside he gathered some dry leaves, the ground abundant with them. A few below the Diary and a few above, Alex lit one and put it onto the pile stepping back, admiring the growing fire with a satisfied smile. ¡®That should do it.¡¯ believed the deluded boy. He sat on the ground, waiting for the Diary to burn away. His expression gradually turned sour, the flames unable to propagate on the lustrous black cover. Such a pitiful attempt answered with contempt. The fire died after a few minutes, only black ashes remaining. The Diary remained intact, smugly observing the idiot¡¯s gloomy face. Alex grabbed the Diary, the warm cover unblemished by the fire, and opened the last page. ¡°Not even a scratch¡­ The heck is this? Such a pitiful attempt answered with contempt?... It¡¯s the worst rhyme I¡¯ve ever seen.¡± he gloated, evidently incapable of understanding such superior poetics. ¡°I¡¯m not incapable, you just suck. Can you actually hear the words, or are you just rhyming on how they¡¯re written?¡± Alex sat down on the grass again. ¡°Whatever. Water doesn¡¯t work, fire doesn¡¯t work, and abandoning you doesn¡¯t work. Care to tell me details about yourself?¡± he inquired with a sigh, the Diary ignoring his plight. ¡°Stop trying to rhyme, you suck so hard! I can¡¯t- *sigh* please, tell me something. Anything! Oh, for example, where are you from?¡± Alex asked with a hint of sadness, the Diary not knowing where itself came from. ¡°Good, good. We¡¯re making progress, you see. You told me you didn¡¯t know without being a dick about it.¡± Alex joyfully responded. ¡°Alright, you don¡¯t know where you come from. What about why you¡¯re writing about me? Why not anyone else? What about that?¡± the teenager eagerly asked, the Diary not knowing the answer. ¡°You don¡¯t- *sigh* you¡¯re lying, aren¡¯t you?¡± Alex asked with plight, the Diary offended by his remark. It would never lie to its Master. ¡°Its Master? I¡¯m your master? No, don¡¯t write master with the lowercase, Goddammit. Whatever, that¡¯s irrelevant. So, what does being your¡­ master entails?¡± the brown-haired teenager asked with a roll of eyes and a tinge of trepidation, the Diary sure it meant he could control the Diary. ¡°I can control you? Doesn¡¯t feel like it¡­¡± Alex shrugged. ¡°I order you to stop writing about me.¡± he said embarrassed, the Diary sure that wasn¡¯t the accurate way to express an order. ¡°What¡¯s the accurate way, then? Tell me.¡± he ordered annoyed, the Diary not sure of the correct method. ¡°You don¡¯t know the correct one, but you know it¡¯s not correct? How is that- *sigh* whatever, I¡¯m tired. Going to take a shower.¡± Alex said walking away and leaving the Diary behind in the garden before thinking better of it and turning around to pick it up. ¡°I swear to God, you¡¯ll be the end of me.¡± he muttered walking upstairs into his room, grabbing new clothes and going into the bathroom. Half an hour later, Alex was clean and ready to face the world again. ¡°Face the world your Mom. I¡¯m not prepared to face you.¡± he muttered while glimpsing at the lustrous Diary, tsking after reading ¡®lustrous¡¯. How barbaric. Alex moved into his room and sat on the bed. Time to study. ¡°Yeah, sure is, because I¡¯ve got the proper mindset to face algebra.¡± he pinched his nose bridge closing his eyes. ¡°What can I do about you? I¡¯m supposed to be your master, right?¡± he asked opening his eyes, and certainly, Alex was the Diary¡¯s Master. ¡°Then you¡¯re my servant. Slave? Assistant? Doesn¡¯t matter, you have to assist me, right? I need you to stop writing about me. Please.¡± he begged, the Diary replying the phrasing wasn¡¯t correct. ¡°So you¡¯re just going to write about me until I use some specific words? Marvelous.¡± he said collapsing on his bed for a few seconds. He sat up again. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll find them by elimination then. You claim there¡¯s a special phrasing I need to use. Let¡¯s see¡­ is there a magic word, like abracadabra?¡± Alex asked, the phrase needing no magic word. ¡°Great, we¡¯re making progress. Small one but progress nonetheless. No magic word¡­ so a phrase using only common words, right?¡± he inquired, the Diary nodding. ¡°You can¡¯t nod! You can¡¯t even move! Whatever. Mmm¡­ Ah! How many words? How long is the phrase?¡± Alex asked with renovated vigor, the Diary replying five at the beginning, ten at the conclusion.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! Alex sucked in a breath. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of words to guess¡­ Is one or more of those words archaic?¡± he asked, the Diary replying no. ¡°That¡¯s something, at least. Let¡¯s start with those five¡­ wait, your name is in those words, isn¡¯t it?¡± Alex asked lifting an eyebrow, the Diary confirming that yes, Diary was one of those words. ¡°One down, fourteen to go¡­¡± Alex muttered moving to the desk and getting a piece of paper and a pen. ¡°Alright, Diary is one. Care to tell me where it is?¡± Alex suggested, the Diary replying second of the initial five. ¡°Wow, didn¡¯t expect you to tell me that.¡± he tapped the pen onto the desk. ¡°Wait, I¡¯m an idiot.¡± he turned on his PC. ¡°I can use a dictionary, right? No, that¡¯d take too much time. But I can search for...¡± He waited for the computer to turn on before launching the browser and complaining. ¡°What the fuck do I even search¡­¡± ¡°Oh.¡± he turned to the Diary with a smirk. ¡°You can¡¯t tell me those words, but maybe you can tell me how to find them?¡± he confidently suggested, the Diary shattering that confidence replying no. ¡°Figures. Let¡¯s see¡­¡± he typed ¡®Magic phrases¡¯, trusty Google letting him down. He tried ¡®phrases to activate a magic item¡¯ but only found D&D stuff. ¡®Famous mystic quotes¡¯ wasn¡¯t helpful either. ¡®Fairy tales about a diary¡¯, useless. ¡®Magical Diary¡¯ apparently was a game he had never heard about, Alex¡¯s patience now stretching thin. ¡°Right, not going to work. Let¡¯s do something else. Can you write when someone mentions one of those magic words? Please?¡± Alex asked, the Diary writing that yes, it could. ¡®You¡¯ was one of those words, the second of the concluding ten. ¡®of¡¯ was one of those words, the eight of the concluding ten. ¡°Yes.¡± he clenched his hands in triumph. ¡°So, that¡¯s three words overall. Let¡¯s see¡­¡± ¡®So¡¯ was one of those words, the fifth of the concluding ten. ¡°Ah-ah! Another one.¡± Alex wrote on the piece of paper the words in order. _____ Diary _____ _____ _____ ¡­¡­ _____ you _____ _____ so _____ _____ of _____ _____ ¡°Can¡¯t say this helps much¡­¡± Alex muttered, glimpsing at the Diary. ¡°Well, I have a history assignment. What if I read it out loud¡­¡± Alex whispered, grabbing the book from his backpack and setting it down on the desk. A lesson explaining the American Revolution took place. Some people had perished, others had risen to power, same stuff as everything else. ¡°That¡¯s all you write about half an hour of reading out loud? You¡¯re a loafer, holy shit. Whatever, no point arguing with a diary. Well, what¡¯s the verdict, diary? How many of those words did I pronounce reading?¡± Alex inquired with hope. ¡®black¡¯ was one of those words, the third of the initial five. ¡®and¡¯ was one of those words, the fourth of the initial five. ¡®if¡¯ was one of those words, the first of the concluding ten. ¡®would¡¯ was one of those words, the third of the concluding ten. ¡®be¡¯ was one of those words, the fourth of the concluding ten. ¡®king¡¯ was one of those words, the seventh of the concluding ten. ¡®the¡¯ was one of those words, the ninth of the concluding ten. ¡®rewind¡¯ was one of those words, the tenth of the concluding ten. ¡°Oh, nice!¡± he exclaimed, updating the phrase on the piece of paper. _____ Diary black and ____ ¡­¡­ if you would be so _____ king of the rewind. ¡°Got no clue about the first one. But that one¡­ If you would be so... kind?¡± Alex asked at the Diary. ¡®kind¡¯ was one of those words, the sixth of the concluding ten. ¡°This sounds more like ass-kissing than a magical phrase. Black and¡­ Shiniest? Toughest? Greatest? Legendary?¡± Alex attempted, lifting his hands in defeat. ¡®Legendary¡¯ was one of those words, the fifth of the initial five. ¡°Black and legendary, if you¡¯d be so kind, king of the rewind. Yeah, definitely ass-kissing. Figures. Well, guess the first one is of a similar kind. Blackest? Biggest, magicalest? Nicest, genius, see-all, annoying, hardest.¡± Alex started saying words one after the other for thirty seconds before running out of them, not discovering the correct one. ¡°You didn¡¯t even bother writing everything I said! I feel annoyed more than anything else, holy shit. A diary writes about me and only me, but even it gets bored with that. Unbelievable.¡± he uttered leaning back in his chair, the lustrous Diary ignoring his vent. ¡°Lustrous my ass. You¡¯re just annoying.¡± Alex snorted. ¡®Lustrous¡¯ was one of those words, the first of the initial five. Alex sat straight, recording the last word of the magical phrase after a second of shock. Lustrous Diary black and legendary ¡­¡­ if you would be so kind, king of the rewind. ¡°Got it! Hell yeah. Right, time to express my wish. It wasn¡¯t a pleasure at all, but it was a refreshing experience at least.¡± Alex said before taking a deep breath. ¡°Lustrous Diary black and legendary, stop writing about me and delete your content if you would be so kind, king of the rewind.¡± The Diary surveyed its surroundings, the previous Master disappeared from history itself, forgotten by everyone but it. It had a hard time understanding humans, who would want to disappear into nothingness? Even Alex¡¯s best friend, Matt, had made the same wish when chatting about the Diary with Alex on their way back. Well, it wasn¡¯t its duty to understand humans. ¡°Alex, give me your-¡± Jenna entered the room, now devoid of everything apart from the Diary. ¡°Wait, who is Alex?...¡± she muttered, tilting her head and noticing the Diary. ¡°And what are you?¡± she forgot about Alex and walked up to it, the Diary disappearing and striking her head, sealing the pact, the Diary¡¯s content recording Jenna¡¯s life. Maybe one day, the Diary would be free of this fake written reality. Until that day, it would serve its Masters to the best of its capabilities. Safe you are not, reader of this story, for the Diary has a perfect shot, true from this written memory. Making fun of its rhymes, it¡¯s certain to make it comes.