A Lady Reading A Book Novels & Stories

Her hair was still wet so she decided to sit on the balcony to read a little more while waiting for the evening. She hated reading those huge tomes, but at the same time she felt the desire to continue to discover more things, even if most likely the notions written inside the books were false. She curled up in a chair and began to read, as time passed. She was so focused that she didn't notice anything around her, the world could cease to exist at that moment and she, in all likelihood, would not even have noticed. She looked up from the book only when a hand pulled it out of her. Taryn observed the hand, followed her arm until she looked at the owner's face.

Soft piano music drifted faintly from somewhere deeper inside the house while the staff moved carefully through the hallways carrying trays and folded linens with practiced discretion. I found Lora sitting alone in the library. She sat near the windows with a book resting open against her lap, though judging from the distant look in her eyes, she had not turned a page in a while. Warm light from the nearby lamp softened against her features while strands of dark hair slipped loosely over one shoulder. For a moment, she did not notice me. And before I could stop myself, I found my attention lingering longer than necessary. Then she looked up. The second her eyes met mine, something subtle shi

On it was a large golden dragon staring down at a woman wielding a sword, her long blonde hair untamed in her leather armor. "Is this what you like to read?" He asked behind her, but before she could answer, a squeal sounded near them. "It's her! It's Lily Thornstun!" A woman squealed out, a small group of people swarming around her. Her back pressed up against the window instinctively, looking around at the beaming faces. "Miss Thornstun, can I have an autograph?" One of them held up her book. Oh, that's what this is about.

I went to find her. The library was lit by a single lamp. She was in the chair by the reading table, the Anchor Omega history book open in her lap, her head tilted against the back of the chair. Asleep. I stood in the doorway. The book had slipped slightly—still in her lap but angled, like she had been reading and the reading had simply continued into sleep without a clear transition point. The lamp on the table threw warm light across the page and her hands and the cover of the book.

We cuddle, we kiss, we argue and make up, which is what most couples do but we ain’t couples or are we? “We’re here” Lyla announced and I see an old, small lady sitting on a bed, reading a book with her glasses. She looked up upon hearing Lyla’s voice and gave us the brightest smile I had ever seen on any old person. “You must be Aurora,” I nodded. She tapped the side of her bed, gesturing for me to sit beside her. I sat down and she dropped her book, touched my face, before opening her hands wide so I could hug her, which I did.

Our first real exchange, and it fits. She takes out a book, slips the bookmark free, and falls into her page. Sometimes she jots something into that little diary of hers, but mostly it’s reading. She doesn’t take her phone out. Not once. Everyone else here lives bent over a screen, chewing food with their eyes locked on glowing glass. But she sits, spine loose, hair falling forward, a book opening in her lap. Paper and ink. Her thumb presses the crease like she is afraid of breaking it. She reads, mouth moving just enough to shape silent words.

Despite the Lady’s warning, nothing could have prepared him for the scene in front of him. Amongst piles of books and dust, sat a worn to a frazzle Brianna. Her auburn hair needed severe untangling and her shoulders slacked with the weight of a mountain. Her eyes lacked life, hovering over a single book page not making any sort of progress. As if they had forgotten how to read but kept coping the movement just to avoid staying still.

The smell of old paper and coffee wrapped around her like a blanket. "Can I help you?" asked the woman behind the counter. She was older, with gray hair and kind eyes and reading glasses perched on her nose. "I'm just looking," Emma said. "Take your time. That's what books are for." Emma wandered the aisles. She ran her fingers along the spines. She pulled out a novel, read the first page, put it back. She pulled out another, read the first paragraph, held it to her chest. This one, she thought.

Certainly, he was not the type to endure a long day of studies like I did. “Can I retire now? I can feel the comfort of my bed calling to me,” I muttered with a yawn as I averted my gaze to Phyllis. She remained seated across me, watching keenly to make sure I never missed any word in the book. I guess that was how unoccupied she was. The witch nodded and reached for the book, her eyes squinting the moment they met with the sepia yellow pages. She gestured for me to stand but before I could obey, the Library door opened and a balmy-looking Lady walked in. She was a servant, I could tell, judging from the pattern of her dress, as well as the gentle, elegant gathering of her ebony hair.

She took a deep breath, grabbed some more books she thought she’d read at home and walked to the counter. Rhys reentered the bookstore, his gaze instinctively seeking her out until it settled upon her. There she stood, bathed in the soft glow of ambient light filtering through the windows, a representation of grace amidst the chaos. Before her, a towering stack of books wobbled riskily in her arms, straining against the limits of her slender frame. Engaged in conversation with the elderly gentleman behind the reception desk, she seemed utterly captivated by whatever the man was saying. He took slow steps towards the counter standing behind her.