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.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

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.