Skip to main content

Echoes Before It Happens - Part 17: Zaiyen’s Diary

 📓 Echoes Before It Happens: Zaiyen’s Diary  

🗓️ Part 17: One Diary, Two Realities  

✍️ By Zaiyen


Ameya and I sat in silence —  

two strangers connected by something we didn’t write.


We both had pieces of a diary.  

Same stories.  

Same handwriting.


But some pages… were **different**.


In her version, my sister never disappeared.  

In mine, her father never died.


Both versions true.  

Both memories real —  

but in **different timelines**.


---


We laid the diaries side by side.


Same entry.  

Different outcomes.


> Me: “I saw the shadow figure in the hallway.”  

>  

> Ameya: “There was no shadow. There was *me* standing there, calling your name.”


What is this?


Not a dream.  

Not a lie.


But **two layers of reality** merging  

because someone — or something —  

is trying to connect us.


---


And then the page turned by itself.


Both diaries.  

At the same time.


And we read the line together:


> “Only one of you can finish the story.”


---


I looked at her.  

She looked at me.


What does that mean?


If she writes the final page…  

do I disappear?


If I do…  

does her world fall apart?


---


We decided to try something no one warned us about:  

We **wrote in the diary at the same time.**


Two hands.  

Two realities.  

One page.


And the words glowed:


> “You’ve broken the timeline rules.”


Suddenly, the room changed.


Paintings twisted.  

Clocks spun backward.  

The lights flickered into darkness.


And one final line appeared between us:


> “The author is waking up.”


---


Who is the author?


And if they’re waking up…


What happens to the story?


🖋️ — Zaiyen


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Unknown Mind: Viyan’s Diary – Part 1 : The Break That Built Me

They always saw me as “soft.” Quiet. Obedient. Always adjusting. My name is Viyan — And this is the moment everything changed. After we lost everything, My brother Devakumar and I left our town, carrying pain instead of luggage. It happened on a dusty afternoon... A crowded bus in an unfamiliar city. I took a seat, head down — like always. Then came Saran . He mocked me, loud enough for the entire bus. Laughter spread. My hands trembled. My lips froze. Everyone turned— waiting to see what the quiet boy would do. And then… something inside me snapped. I stood up. I didn’t yell. I didn’t cry. I just… spoke. That wasn’t just a reply. It was my rebirth . That bus ride didn’t break me — It built me. ✍️ And this is where Viyan’s story truly begins…

Echoes Before It Happens - Part 20: Zaiyen’s Diary

 📓 Echoes Before It Happens: Zaiyen’s Diary   🗓️ Part 20: The Diary Is Now Yours   ✍️ Final Entry by Zaiyen So this is where it ends… Or begins. I’m no longer trapped in the story.   I’m beyond it.   But the diary… it didn’t disappear.   It passed on. To you. Yes — **you**, reading this. --- This isn’t just my diary anymore.   It’s alive.   It finds those who are close to the edge.   The ones who feel like their dreams   are warnings. The ones who think their thoughts   aren’t their own. The ones who whisper things they’ve never heard —   but always knew. If you're reading this far…   you’ve already been chosen. --- The final page turned itself today. And it didn’t show words. It showed **your face**. A future version of you —   writing your story   with trembling hands and burning truth. --- Because here’s the twist   you never saw...

Unknown Mind: Viyan’s Diary – Part 6: Mirror of My Mind

My mind was full. Overflowing. Loud. Blank. Everything at once. Appa said, “It’ll pass… We’ve seen worse.” But it didn’t feel like it would. Until she came. Yalini didn’t ask me to smile. She didn’t bring chocolate or flowers. She brought a mirror . A small round one. From her bag. She handed it to me and said: “I want you to look into this… and tell me if you still see the same boy from the bus.” I didn’t speak. But I looked. And I saw him. The boy who shook on a bus. The boy who wrote pain into pages. But also… The boy who stood up. The boy who didn’t quit. The boy who was still here. Tears dropped. She didn’t wipe them. She just sat beside me and whispered, “This time, you’re not vanishing. You’re becoming.” That night, I wrote again. Not just in the diary. But on a small sticky note. I pasted it near my mirror. “I am still here. And I’m not done.” That was the first time I chose to fight. Not for survival. But for myself . 🖋️ — Viyan