A Little Spot Book Novels & Stories

Greta and Gabby made their way to Page Turner’s Bookstore just down the street from the Blue Moon Inn. Once inside the warmth of the large shop, Greta was surprised to see a bright modern shop, which included not only a metaphysical section, but my children’s section, too. With soft upbeat music playing in the background, it didn’t take long to find the shopkeeper chatting away to a rather wild looking dog by a fireplace.

It was an old man who sat behind a wooden desk, one eye shielded by spectacles. The old man adjusted his spectacles, revealing his other eye; jet black with bulging veins around it. A ghoul. Damn. This wasn’t the friendly shopkeeper I remembered. “Quite the collection we have, isn’t it?” he said in a gentle voice. “Yeah, old books hold secrets. That’s why I love them,” I replied as my eyes wandered around the store. I wandered through the shelves, running my fingers over the spines until I spotted a small, dusty-looking book tucked away. Its cover read “Aurora Sparks.”

I begin to stand up and grab the smaller hamper when Lorie begins to speak. "Um.. Layla?" She says hesitantly. "Yes." I reply back gently. "Can we read a book tonight?" She asks with pleading eyes. "Sure!" I reply. "What did you have in mind?" I ask as I approach the side of her bed. Slowly Lorie pulls a book out from under her pillow and hands it to me as I sit down on the bed next to her. The book is a mild chapter book and the label reads "Hank the Cowdog".

Another laugh answered me, it came from one of the rooms few step away from where I stood, with the door slightly ajar. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." The voice said. "It's okay ... " I guess? I walked towards the room and knocked lightly against the open door. "Hello?" "Please come in." the voice said. I pushed open the door even further, only to be welcomed by a beautiful sight. The room was completely different from the rest of the mansion I've seen so far. Instead of the expensive paintings and big furniture, books filled nearly half of every shelf. Fresh flowers sitting pretty on the windowsill, filling the room with an amazing scent.

“I can’t wait to play with them!” Troye gave her the box, and the little girl ran back to where her brother was. “I also have something for you, Kaydee.” Troye sat beside the little boy and put the box before him. “What is this, Uncle? You don’t really have to buy me toys,” Kaydee seemed curious about the toy, but unlike his sister, he was shy. “Those are called hot wheels, I believe?” Troye chuckled. “Thank you…” Kaydee timidly took the box and opened it.

While trying to finish up the third book, I felt him touching my bréàst. "Look who's hungry." I pinched his tiny nose and proceeded to feed him. He grabbed hold of my bréàst and sucked the milk like it was his last meal. I found it cute and I couldn't stop staring. I couldn't believe that one year ago, I tried to get rid of this little angel if not for Devin's advice. I hope the heavens have forgiven me for ever dreaming such. He was a bundle of joy and I didn't think I'd ever be happy if anything was to happen to him.

Suddenly, a tall, dark figure emerged out and screamed, "Boo!" I narrowed my eyes at Jamal who scrunched his nose in disappointment when he realized that I wasn't a bit scared. I flashed a saccharine smile and continued to flip through the pages when he cursed, "Damn, it's that hard to scare a dying girl? I was hidden in the bushes for the past fifteen minutes with the bugs biting my ass, at least, appreciate my efforts." "Ooh, Jamie, I got soo scared! I almost crapped my pants!" "Alright, no need to be so cynical," he muttered dejectedly and frowned when he noticed the book in my lap. "Girl, you're dying---"

THIRD PERSON Pov The cabin was the quietest place the maid had been in months. She sat on the bed and looked around the room and felt the absence of footsteps in the corridor outside, the absence of Konstantin's voice somewhere in the house, the absence of the tension that came from living in a space where you were useful but not safe. The room was small. The furniture was plain. The cook knocked and came in with the tray. The smell of the soup reached her before the woman had fully set it down. It was warm, and savory. Chicken, rice, vegetables and juice, everything was set out neatly on the small table beside the bed.

He was organized, efficient, a perfectionist in everything he did. Or so I had thought. I ran my finger along the spines, counting back the years. Ten years ago. Eleven. Twelve. My finger stopped on the year the hunter would have been twelve years old. I pulled the heavy book from the shelf and carried it to the reading table in the center of the room. Dust motes danced in the lamplight as I opened the cover, swirling like ghosts. The first few pages were standard. Financial records, mission reports, contracts for security details. Everything was in Michail's neat, cursive handwriting.

she said to herself. The fourth book begins at chapter 1 in Paris. The End.