"I must collect all five diaries."
Eli's eyes were locked on the page, the words staring back at him like a riddle he couldn't solve. His fingers traced the handwriting—his own handwriting—yet the message felt foreign, like something whispered to him by a stranger. His brow furrowed in deep concentration, trying to understand how he had come to know of this information. Why five? What do these diaries contain, and more importantly, where are they?
The thought gnawed at him. He knew he had to find these diaries, but the task ahead felt insurmountable. How could I even begin? The school wasn't small, and there were countless diaries, journals, and notebooks tucked away in lockers, classrooms, and backpacks. Students weren't exactly eager to share their most personal thoughts, and as for the teachers? Eli nearly scoffed at the thought. No sane person would willingly let him rummage through their diaries, let alone faculty members.
Especially teachers. Eli knew that would be particularly difficult. His mind raced as he imagined trying to get his hands on a teacher's private writings, let alone five of them. It wasn't just impractical; it was impossible. He could already see their suspicious glares, the way they'd lock away their belongings more securely if they even got a whiff of his intentions.
Just thinking about it made his headache worse, the dull ache in his temples intensifying with each passing second. How am I supposed to do this? he thought, pressing his fingers harder against his temple, trying to massage away the pain. But the pressure only reminded him of the weight he carried—the impossible burden of solving this mystery before the loop restarted.
He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to push through the mental fog. He couldn't stop now, not when he was so close to some kind of answer. He had to keep moving forward, even if his mind felt like it was unraveling thread by thread. His thoughts circled back to the message in the diary—Five diaries. The words echoed in his head. Why five? What connects them?
Eli leaned back in his chair, the familiar creak of the wood grounding him for a moment. His eyes drifted toward the window, where the storm clouds outside gathered ominously, casting long shadows over the classroom. The light was dim, the late evening sun struggling to break through the thick layer of clouds. The world outside looked as chaotic and murky as the thoughts swirling in his head. It was almost fitting, he thought grimly. The storm outside reflected the turmoil inside him.
A cold gust of wind seeped through a crack in the window, sending a shiver down his spine. He rubbed his hands together, trying to shake off the chill, though it did little to soothe the unease that had settled deep within him. Where do I even start? The question weighed heavily on his mind.
Eli's thoughts returned to the people around him—the students, the teachers, the ones who seemed oblivious to the chaos he was trapped in. They went about their routines, unaware that time was slipping away from them, that Eli was racing against an unseen clock, trying to piece together fragments of a puzzle no one else knew existed.
How could he approach them? How could he even begin to explain what he was looking for without sounding like he had lost his mind? The thought of Alex crossed his mind briefly. He had already lied to him about the game they were supposedly playing. How many more lies would he need to tell just to get through this?
I can't trust anyone, Eli reminded himself. And yet, somehow, he needed to find a way. He needed those diaries, no matter how impossible it seemed.
His hand went back to his temple, massaging the spot where the headache throbbed the worst. The frustration built up inside him like a storm ready to break. His mind was clouded with doubts and questions, but giving up wasn't an option. I have to figure this out, he told himself firmly. There was no room for failure. Not now.
He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to focus again. The task was daunting, but he couldn't afford to be overwhelmed. Not yet. He would start with what he knew—the writing, the clues. Somewhere in those five diaries lay the answers he needed.
Just when Eli thought he was spiraling down a pit of endless questions, something flickered in his mind—a glimmer of clarity amidst the storm of confusion. Wait a minute. His eyes widened in sudden realization as his thoughts began to align. If this is truly the first time I'm holding this diary in this loop, how come this writing was already here before I even received it?
His heart skipped a beat, and his pulse quickened as he examined the pages again, flipping through them with newfound urgency. The words stared back at him, mocking his ignorance. How could they have been written before the loop had even restarted? There's no way I could have done this in this loop... unless...
Eli's mind raced as he tried to piece together the puzzle, a torrent of possibilities crashing over him. There are only a few explanations for this. He sat up straighter, the weight of the mystery suddenly heavier. One, I wrote this before the loop even started, and I simply don't remember. Or... Eli hesitated, the thought unnerving him. Or my memory of writing this has been erased.
The notion made his skin crawl, the idea that pieces of his mind—his own thoughts—were missing, deliberately wiped away. It wasn't the first time he had questioned his memory in this strange, twisted cycle, but this was different. The diary in his hands felt like solid proof that something, or someone, was tampering with more than just time. His memories, his very actions, could be altered, manipulated without him even realizing it. A cold shiver crept up his spine, and he instinctively rubbed his arms, trying to shake off the creeping dread.
But what if... His thoughts shifted, and a second possibility dawned on him. What if I wrote this during this loop, and my memory was erased afterward? Eli leaned forward, elbows on his knees, gripping the edges of the journal as if it held all the answers. But he quickly dismissed the second option as unlikely. If that were true, then why would the message be left behind for him to find again? It didn't make sense.
His headache throbbed more fiercely, but he couldn't stop thinking, couldn't stop pushing through the fog in his mind. No... the first option seems more plausible. I must have written this before the loop began, but someone—or something—wiped that memory away from me. But why?
Eli's thoughts grew sharper, the fog lifting for a brief moment as he stared down at the diary, his mind now racing with a different intensity. Why would someone erase this memory from me? The question rang loudly in his mind, and with it came a chilling answer that twisted in his gut.
The answer is simple. His thoughts turned cold, precise. Either it was some kind of side effect from the loop itself, which I don't believe, or... Eli narrowed his eyes, the weight of the realization hitting him like a blow to the chest. Or someone deliberately erased it. Someone doesn't want me to remember.
A new wave of unease settled over him, darker than before. His fingers tightened their grip on the diary as his eyes scanned the room suspiciously, half-expecting someone—or something—to reveal itself in the shadows. Why? Why would someone do this? His mind spun in all directions, but one thing became glaringly clear.
These diaries are important—very important. More than ever, Eli was convinced. There was something hidden within them, something crucial that someone didn't want him to uncover. They could even be the key to ending the loop itself. But if they're this important... Eli's thoughts turned to darker possibilities. If these diaries are truly that critical, wouldn't the first looper have already found them and ended the loop?
His frustration bubbled up again, and he clenched his jaw, trying to wrestle his thoughts back into control. If it were really that easy, someone would have solved it by now, right? The thought soured in his mind, but it didn't change the fact that the diaries still held significance. Even if they weren't the key to ending the loop directly, they were certainly a piece of the puzzle. Whoever—or whatever—was tampering with his memories didn't want him to gather them.
And that, in itself, told Eli everything he needed to know.
They want to keep me in the dark, Eli thought, a fire igniting in his chest. But I won't let them. He dismissed the idea of an easy solution but couldn't shake the nagging feeling that gathering these diaries could lead to something—something that could shift the balance in his favor. Even if it's not the final answer, it's important. And I'll gather them, no matter what.
Eli let out a slow, measured breath, trying to center himself. His headache still pounded, but the fog in his mind began to clear as he embraced his new resolve. I don't care who's messing with my memories, he thought, his grip on the diary tightening with determination. I'm going to find these diaries. I'll find the truth, piece by piece, if I have to.
His gaze drifted back to the journal in his hand, and the handwriting that was undeniably his. Urgent. Desperate.
But something wasn't sitting right with Eli. His thoughts paused as a new question emerged, nagging at the back of his mind. If there really is a way to end the loop early... and the person behind this doesn't want the loop to end, why would they give people a chance in the first place?
The contradiction gnawed at him, his stomach tightening with the weight of it. It didn't make sense. Why would someone go through the trouble of resetting the world over and over only to leave breadcrumbs that could potentially lead to freedom? Is it for entertainment? Eli grimaced at the thought. Could they be toying with him for amusement, watching him struggle, knowing they could snatch away any victory at a whim? The thought was unsettling, a sickening mix of dread and fury bubbling beneath his skin.
Or, another possibility slowly rose in his mind. Maybe there's no person behind this at all. Maybe it really is some kind of artifact, like I thought before. Eli leaned back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling, eyes narrowed. An artifact might behave unpredictably, operating on a set of rules that don't involve malice or intent... just power and consequence. That felt more plausible—more natural. The diary could simply be a clue to a mechanism put in place by something ancient or powerful, some object that had gotten out of control. But, even that didn't quite sit right either.
There's also the possibility... Eli swallowed hard, the new idea making him tense. That the person who started the loop and the person who manipulated my memory are different people. He blinked, the thought giving way to more questions. Could it be that there were two forces at work here? Two entities, opposing each other? One trying to prolong the loop, and another trying to help him escape it? The idea was both reassuring and terrifying. If there were truly two sides at play, then at least he wasn't completely alone in this. But it also meant that the stakes were far higher than he initially thought—he was caught in the middle of something far bigger than himself.
Eli shook his head, frustration building again. Nothing can be confirmed for now. He bit his lip, trying to calm the anxious energy buzzing in his veins. He didn't have enough information to come to any real conclusions yet. All he had were theories—shadows of the truth that danced just out of reach. But even so, the uncertainty was maddening.
I have to keep moving, Eli thought, forcing himself to refocus.
Now, the third possibility struck Eli. It was simple, really. If time manipulation was possible, why wouldn't copying my handwriting be possible too? He let the thought linger, but deep down, he knew it was just hopeful thinking—an attempt to ease the bitter reality that his memory was being tampered with. Compared to the idea that someone had gone so far as to mess with his mind, mimicking his handwriting was less unsettling. Still, he couldn't entirely dismiss it. If whoever—or whatever—was behind the loop had such advanced control over time, copying a simple handwriting style would be child's play.
But Eli sighed, feeling the weight of the situation press down on him again. That's just wishful thinking. It was a desperate attempt to avoid confronting the more terrifying truth: that his own mind was unreliable, his memories no longer trustworthy. Still, it was worth considering. If the entity creating the loop was really doing all this for entertainment, they might have thrown in something like this just for fun—to mess with him, to see how he'd react.
But the fourth possibility... Eli paused, his heart quickening as he thought it through. This is what gives me hope. Maybe, just maybe, the diary—or rather, the writing within it—didn't reset with the loop. If that were true, this diary could be a living proof that the loop can be broken. That realization sent a shiver down his spine. If there was something that could survive the loop's restart, then perhaps the loop wasn't as invincible as it seemed.
And most of all, Eli thought, feeling a glimmer of determination spark within him, in the other diaries—if I can find them—there's probably more valuable information. The idea filled him with a renewed sense of purpose. He wasn't stumbling blindly anymore; he had something to work toward, a tangible goal. Each diary could hold pieces of the puzzle, and if he could gather them all, maybe he could finally find a way to end this nightmare.
But where to start? His mind raced, thinking of all the places in the school where diaries could be hidden, places that would be difficult or dangerous to search. His headache throbbed again as the weight of his task settled on his shoulders. Teachers, students, random locations—who would give up their diaries? The sheer number of people and places he'd have to investigate made him feel overwhelmed, but Eli knew he couldn't stop.
Before Eli could fully dive into the daunting task of searching for the diaries, another question gnawed at him. How did I even come to know this? He frowned, his thoughts spiraling deeper. Did I figure this out after going through the loop countless times, only to have my memory erased? Or did someone else tell me?
Suddenly, a memory flashed in his mind. The first time I looped, I fainted twice… Eli felt his pulse quicken. And when I woke up, she was gone, and an hour had passed. That moment felt crucial now. Is that when I wrote this? If that was true, it would make the first three possibilities—his memory being erased, or someone else altering it—less likely. But still, Eli knew he couldn't be sure. There were too many unknowns. He rubbed his temples in frustration, trying to push through the fog of uncertainty clouding his thoughts.
But if that theory was correct, if he had written this during that crucial missing hour, another question emerged: How did she find out about this? The girl who was the first looper… Did she gradually uncover the truth about the diaries, like I'm doing now? Or did she have her own journal? One that can also withstand the loop like mine?
Eli's brow furrowed as he considered this possibility. But how does she know there are exactly five diaries? It seemed so specific, too deliberate. Maybe she found all of them and it triggered something, Eli thought, his mind racing. Maybe that's how she passed the looping power on to me. But if that was the case, why hadn't she written anything in this journal to guide him? Does the time loop reset the writing when the power of the loop is transferred to someone else? Or, a darker thought crept into his mind, does she not know about this at all? Could this be a sixth diary that she missed?
Eli clenched his jaw, feeling the weight of the situation intensify. Either way, I have to find those diaries. The mystery of the loop's origin and the first looper gnawed at him. He knew where he had to go next. Class D. That was where the first looper was from. And it was also the class that had vanished entirely.
Eli pushed the journal back into his bag and stood, casting a quick glance at the clock. Only a little more than half an hour remained before the loop reset. I need to move fast, he thought, his nerves rising again as he hurried out of the classroom. His steps echoed down the hallway, a sound that felt unnervingly loud in the stillness of the school.
It didn't take long for him to reach Class D. He paused in front of the door, staring at it with a mixture of anticipation and dread. Right… will entering restart the loop? The whole class had vanished, after all. That unnerving fact weighed heavy on his mind. Eli sighed deeply, trying to calm the frantic beating of his heart. There's only one way to find out.
With that thought, he steeled himself and pushed the door open. Darkness greeted him, thick and oppressive. If this had happened before the loop, Eli would have been scared out of his mind. Hell, I still am, he admitted to himself, swallowing the lump of fear rising in his throat. But he couldn't run—not anymore. He didn't have the luxury of turning back now.
His fingers fumbled with his phone until the flashlight clicked on, cutting through the black void of the classroom. The beam of light revealed… nothing. The room was barren, empty. The chalkboard, the desks, the chairs—all of it was gone. Only a hollow void remained where the classroom used to be. Eli's heart sank, depression creeping over him like a cold shadow. There's nothing here, he thought, the weight of despair pressing down. I won't find anything.
But he forced himself to keep looking, his light sweeping over the room's dark corners, just in case. And then, as the beam of light hit the far corner of the room, something unusual caught his eye. Floating in mid-air was a white diary. It looked old, the edges fraying slightly, but otherwise normal. It hovered there, gently suspended as if defying gravity itself.