The Diary of Dreams

Emma was the only person in the empty library, sitting in the corner reading a book. She was a fair-looking, shy, quiet, but curious girl. After school, she went to the town library. It was her favorite place, full of knowledge and stories from all over the world. Her favorite reads were romantic novels and stories.

She was on the last page of the book, where the prince would kiss the princess, and then they lived happily ever after.

Mr. Harper, the librarian entered and went toward the place where rare and old books were placed.

Seeing Emma reading, Mr. Harper said, "Emma, again you're reading that book."

Though he knew, his library was small and had limited books stored, also this was the only library in the town. And for a poor girl like Emma, couldn't afford new books every time when she wanted. For Mr. Harper she was like his daughter that's why he sometimes bought books from his saved salary for the library so she could read.

Emma looked toward Mr. Harper with a smile and said, “Hello Mr. Harper.”

"Oh... put it away and look I have some old books and magazines here, you will like them." He said.

Emma's eyes lit up with curiosity. She placed the book on the table and walked over to Mr. Harper, who had just set down a small stack of books and magazines on the counter.

Emma eagerly sorted through the pile. Amid the word books and crumpled magazines.

Then, something caught her eyes, a small leather-bound book that looked different. It wasn't like the other books. She picked it up and opened the first page.

It wasn’t a book. It was a diary.

Emma's curiosity grew stronger. She asked Mr. Harper, "Can I borrow this?"

"Of course," he said. "It's not part of the library catalog. Take your time."

Excited, Emma took the diary home.

At night, when the town was sleeping and everywhere was peace and quiet, Emma sat by her window and began reading the diary. The diary belonged to a boy named Liam, who lived in the same town.

One the first page, she saw a note:

"To the one open this, you now hold my heart's secret. Read and you will know me. -Liam."

Emma's heart raced. The handwriting was neat but expressive, and the name "Liam" sounded youthful and mysterious. She imagined a handsome boy like a mysterious prince, pouring his feelings into this diary.

Each line of the entire diary was beautiful and filled with emotion.

One line said:

"I sit beneath the oak tree in the park every Saturday. It's my favorite place to think and dream. Sometimes, I wonder if someone will ever understand me the way I want to be understood."

She knew a park one walking hour away from her home, and also many times she went there.

"Is this the park?" she thought "But… an oak tree... Yeah, there is a big old oak tree there."

Another read:

"I want to write a book someday, but I'm scared. What if no one reads it? What if no one cares?

Emma felt a strange but strong connection to Liam. He seemed like someone who loved stories as much as she did. She imagined him sitting under the oak tree, writing his thoughts and dreams in the diary.

Emma couldn't stop reading. Each page made her feel closer to Liam. She felt as though she knew him; his hopes, fears, and dreams. She was sure he was someone special.

The next morning, Emma returned to the library. "Mr. Harper," she said, "do you know who this belongs to?"

Mr. Harper shook his head. "I don't. The seller didn't know either. it was just mixed in with the books and magazines."

Emma couldn't stop thinking about the boy. She decided to visit the park on the next Saturday.

"Maybe he will be there," she thought.

The next Saturday, she went to the park. She was excited but also nervous. Looking at the old oak tree she thought "It is exactly as Liam's description of the tree; tall and wide, its branches stretching out like arms."

But there was no one, The place was empty.

She sat under it, waiting for her special man. She believed that she would find him.

She opened the diary again.

Flipping through the pages, she noticed something new. A pressed flower fell out. It was dry but still beautiful, with purple petals. On the page where it was kept, Liam had written:

"This flower is for someone who loves stories and dreams, like me. If you find it, maybe we were meant to meet."

She smiled. His words felt like they were written just for her.

That day, she waited for two hours, but nobody came. Despite this, she didn't lose hope of meeting the boy. Over the few next weeks, Emma spent more time at the park, reading her diary under the oak tree. In that moment wasn't eagerly waiting to meet the boy; she was simply enjoying the experience.

One day, while she was reading under the tree, an older man approached. He had gray hair, kind eyes, and a gentle smile.

"Excuse me," he said, pointing to the diary "Where did you find that?"

Emma hesitated. "I found it at the library. Do you know who it belongs to?"

The old man chuckled softly. "It belongs to me. I'm Liam."

Emma's eyes widened in shock. "You... you're Liam?"

The man nodded. "I wrote that diary many years ago when I was about your age. I must have lost it somewhere along the way. I can't believe it's still around."

Emma managed a small smile. "Your diary is beautiful. It felt like I was reading someone's soul. You have a way with words."

Liam smiled warmly. "Thank you. Writing was my dream back then, but I was too afraid to follow it. Life took me in a different direction."

They talked for a while, and Emma found herself listening to Liam's stories about his youth, his dreams, and his love for writing. Though he wasn't the boy she imagined, she realized he was still the same thoughtful person who had written those words.

When Liam left, he gave Emma the diary. "It's yours now," he said. "Maybe it will inspire you to write your own dreams."

Emma sat under the oak tree for a long time, holding the diary. It wasn't the love story she had imagined, but it was something just as special; a reminder that words have the power to connect people across time and age.

And as the sun set over the town, Emma opened a blank notebook and began writing her own story waiting for the imaginary prince.