11 Minutes Book Novels & Stories

"That the people who stay are the ones who were supposed to." He looked at the book. "Not the ones who were convenient. Not the ones who were merely suitable." He looked back at her. "The ones who were supposed to." She sat with that for a long moment. Then: "Read it to me." He looked at her. "It's a children's book." "I know," she said. "Read it to me." Something moved in his expression. "All right," he said. He opened the book. He read it in twenty minutes—the whole of it, slowly, in the kitchen with the September evening at the windows and the south garden doing its seasonal work and the house quiet around them in the way it was quiet on Friday evenings when it was simply being held by th

He knew it was eleven minutes because he checked the time when he sat down and checked it once more because he was who he was, and the interval between the two checks was eleven minutes, which was the length of a board call that wasn't going well and also the length of his shortest recent morning briefing and also, it turned out, the length of time it took him to drink a third of a very good Malbec. Eleven minutes was not a long time. In the normal course of his life, eleven minutes passed without his noticing—the interval between one meeting and the next, the time it took to review a document, the duration of a phone call that he would forget as soon as he hung up. Eleven minutes was nothin

She had been waiting to read the book, but she was interrupted by unfortunate events the previous night. Flipping through the first page, she continued to the prologue where the story began. Arlene was too engrossed with the book that she didn’t notice that she had passed a lot of time. The book contained 30 chapters and she had read fifteen chapters at a go. She stopped reading when she heard her stomach rumble, so she closed the book and checked the time on her phone, it was 4 pm already. She turned on her data to check her i*******m feed and the writer’s forum she was on for updates.

he checked the clock hanging opposite to him, “It’s been late, your friend is probably waiting for you…” It was almost 11 pm he jumped up to leave when Nick stopped him, asking to wait a second. He walked to the shelf. He came back with a torn out book, with a yellow dandelion painted on the cover, in a blue font drawn over it, ‘Love of Youth.’ Nick handed him this book, asking, “Read this. You’ll like it,” patting on the book. That whole night he read the book with a tiny sleep of four hours in the dawn. He came back to the shop next morning, reading the rest of it there, completely drown in the book. He didn’t realize someone came in.

He gave me the book beforehand to get in and open the door for the shelf which I can picture clearly in my mind. The voice of Branson talking with Alex start fading away which means that they are walking away from the library. I take the opportunity and step inside the library. It's very quiet and there are no people around. We chose this time because it's the time the library opens, so no one would be around. Not yet. As per his plan, I have thirty minutes in my hand to do the job. I look around the library to search for the shelf that has one book missing in a row. A few minutes pass and I still can't find the shelf. Bloody hell! Where is it?

“I'm sorry. I just think that an hour is… too short.” “Hmm.” I nodded in support. The book in my hand was as thick as a dictionary. How can anyone finish memorizing all that within an hour? I haven't even finished memorizing the 12x timetable. Damm, it looks like the lady luck on me wouldn't be able to save me from disqualification today. “You have a free will to leave if you think you can't do it. Your time starts now.” Eason flicked his finger, and the burning timer stick in the corner of the hall was instantly lit.

0 3 The open IT HAD been exactly twenty four hours, thirty nine minutes and forty seconds since the episode with Kayden. Forty one seconds.. I was seated at the farthest corner of the library right next to the librarian. I loved this position because no one ever wanted to be around the librarian, let alone sit next to her. So this was a forbidden spot. Perfect for me.

I let out a heavy sigh of relief, and finished my hot chocolate before heading back inside, and walking towards the living room. I decided to turn on one of the lights that stood on one of the miniature tables next to the couch, and I opened the book which I had been reading for the past few days. I read for what felt like hours, and when I looked back up at the clock that was hanging on the wall, I found out that I had been reading for the past three hours.

I asked. " Yeah of course. Leave it. You are here, that's enough. I already found all the books you need for the quiz," he informed taking me outside the library. I can't believe it's been one hour. For me, it's like just 15 minutes. Everything felt weird when Iam in that room.

Idris's name on the screen. She answered without thinking. "Hey." "You're alive." "I'm reading." "For three hours?" She looked at the clock. 10:47 AM. "I didn't notice." "That's the best kind of reading." A pause. "Are you almost done?" She looked at the pages left. Thin. Maybe twenty. "Almost." "Then finish. Call me when you're done." He hung up. She set the phone down. Turned back to the book. --- At 11:30, she closed the cover.