[Diary Entry – Johnathan Reed]
Hi there,My name is Johnathan Reed. I'm a writer and a final-year M.Sc. student. If you're reading this... well, I must be dead.
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Okay, no, I'm not dead. I probably just misplaced this diary somewhere — which is totally something I'd do. And if someone did find it, please don't expect pages of deep thoughts or poetic heartbreaks. This isn't that kind of diary.
It's just full of ridiculous, funny stuff that's happened between me and my best friend, Roy.
Now, let me tell you about Roy. We've been friends since we were kids. We even go to the same college now, and somehow still haven't killed each other. Roy's a great guy — supportive, loyal, and way too curious for his own good.
He's the kind of guy who would flip through your notes, not to cheat, but because he just needs to know what you're working on. Naturally, he loves books. And he's my number one fan. He reads everything I write.
The catch? I write under a secret pen name — Reed Richard (a mix of my first and last name). Nobody, apart from Roy, knows I'm the author of Blood in Shadow, a thriller that somehow did way better than I expected.
Now, Roy's obsession with reading my drafts before they're published is borderline legendary. He never crosses any serious lines — he respects me and my work — but the moment I finish writing, he turns into a bloodhound.
This one incident? Oh, it's gold.
After the first volume of Blood in Shadow became a hit, my publisher gave me a tight deadline for the second. I pulled a full seven-day writing marathon — caffeine-fueled, sleep-deprived, borderline zombie mode.
Finally, I finished it. The next day, I had to take it to the publishing office. But knowing Roy, I had to protect that manuscript like it was the last slice of pizza in a shared fridge.
So, I hid it. And on my desk, I left a fake page — bait.
Sure enough, later that evening, Roy crept into my room like he was in some spy movie. Super slow, thinking I wouldn't notice. He spotted the page on the desk and pounced.
He read it aloud:
"This is really heart-touching...In 2013, there was a Russian scientist named Povandolakoviviscov Koginayuntayionshinkov..."
He stared at it for a second, completely lost, and turned to me.
Roy: "What is this? Where's the rest of the story?"
Me: "Why'd you skip the name?"
Roy: "Because I physically can't pronounce it."
Me: "Try. If you can say the name right, I'll let you read the manuscript."
He looked like a kid being told he'd get candy if he just sat still. Pure determination. He tried it once, twice, fifteen times — each attempt worse than the last. If you're reading this and think he gave up too soon, go ahead and try the name yourself. I dare you.
Eventually, I told him the truth.
Me: "You're not reading it until it's published."
He didn't argue. He just... snapped into search mode.
For the next hour, my room looked like it had been hit by a tornado. He checked every drawer, every shelf, under the bed, even inside my socks. Meanwhile, I sat on the chair giving him a villainous smirk 😈😈 like I was the final boss in his quest.
He looked like a man searching for a hidden treasure map. Or like someone who just knew there was leftover pizza in the fridge — somewhere.
After nearly two hours, he gave up. Just slumped on my bed and dozed off. I went to sleep too — proud and victorious.
The next morning, I casually told him we were heading to the publisher.
On the way, he asked, "Okay, seriously. Where was it?"
I looked at him, grinning. "In your bag."
He blinked. "What?"
"Yeah. I slipped it in there last night."
He stared at me in disbelief. He had searched everything — except his own bag. Because, of course, why would it be there?
Moral of the story? Never underestimate a writer on a deadline.And never trust your bag when you've got a curious best friend like Roy.