Novel & Cerita A Story Book

he asked in an indifferent manner. I came in amazed by how huge actually this place was. There were books stacked on shelves, which were a few meters high, around five maybe. Books on several desks. Books piled everywhere on the floor. And more books near the fireplace. For all that was sacred sake, I would love to just spend the rest of my almost immortal life here. “Close your mouth or you’ll catch a fly.” He said clearly amused. ”Now, are you going to apologize or what?” “Why would I do that?” I instantly scoffed. Crossing my arms. I took a sit on the floor across from him.

“So that way.” 16B was a much larger section than I expected. Still, it made sense since wolves were always passing down stories to the younger generations, true or not. “Found it,” I said. It took forty-five minutes but I found a book on the Moon Blessed that was not a kid's bedtime story. “When the Goddess becomes a man,” I read out the title. From the cover, I could tell it was still a fiction story for the most part. But it was better than nothing at all.

Side by side, Christina and I strolled through the gallery, taking in the vibrant artwork. Christina's love and knack for art were off the charts. She had a way of uncovering the hidden tales in each piece from angles no one else seemed to see. "Erick, check out this painting." She gestured towards an oil painting named 'Nirvana', her eyes alight with excitement. "It's a phoenix rising from the ashes, feathers scorched but eyes blazing with hope and strength for what's ahead. It reminds me of you." Her words caught me off guard, and I turned to her.

I saved the rest for the children’s schooling. For a long time, I could not leave the village. I had fields to tend, children to raise, and a grief so heavy that even breathing felt like labor. At night, I often dreamed of the motorcycle. In the dream, Dominic rode slowly along the mountain road. The sky was gray. The wind was cold. He never turned back, no matter how loudly I called his name. Our children sometimes asked what kind of man their father had been. I always told them the truth that mattered most.

Keith turned around and pretended to cry. “He passed a week ago. I’ll be looking after this place from now onwards and if you want to work here then you better start working right now.” John commanded. “Sure.” Keith talked to him and picked up the accounts book. John came and took the book from Keith’s hand. “Hold on! What do you think you’re doing?” “I'm doing what I do every day.” Keith smiled “Sorry but you won’t be doing it from now onwards. There were already a lot of errors in the book and a lot of missing amount. Don’t worry. I’ll take all the amount from you.” John winked at Keith and walked away.

“How can anything compare to a story acted out in front of you? I feel like I’m right in the middle of the action I…” “How long do their stories last?” he queries. “One hour, two? Half a day? A book can provide weeks, if not years of entertainment,” he explains, his eyes alight with joy. “I have books on my shelf that I’ve had since I was a small child.” He sighs, connecting with a pleasant memory, “you could say that books touch you for a lifetime. How can a storyteller compare?” I shrug. “I don’t know, that might be true for you,” I agree, conceding to his logic, “but I do know that when they speak, I am completely in the world of their words and that, that feels like a treasure.”

So it wouldn't take long for the police to locate us and try to finish that mission as soon as possible. The little boy opened a small shabby and old book, in which the green cover was already totally covered with dust and some leaves exhibited a yellowish tone. I had the impression that I was seeing my old books from the time I went to church, where Bible stories mixed to explain the existence of God. I became even more believed that that situation was the same, because he opened the story on a page where a snake stuck in an apple tree tree appeared.

“Mommy has to read a story.” I smiled faintly. “You’re still excited to read a story, even though you were sleepy earlier?” “Of course. Just one story.” Noah raised a finger, his face very serious. Liam chuckled. “Just one short story, okay? You have school tomorrow.” Noah nodded quickly. “Okay.” I took a thin book from the nightstand, his favorite animal picture book. I opened it to the first page and began reading softly. Noah rested his head on my shoulder, his eyes half-closed, but his lips still smiling.

Her narration was so vivid, so detailed, that one would think she was reading from a book when in fact, she wasn’t holding anything at all. “You’re amazing, Miss Sandra! You know so many stories! Can you tell us Snow White next?” one child exclaimed in admiration. “Jack and the Beanstalk!” another chimed in eagerly. “Miss Sandra, Alice in Wonderland, please!” came yet another excited request. “Wait! Wait, one at a time,” Sandra said with a laugh. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you all those stories.” “Do you have a secret library of children’s books stored in your head or something?” a familiar voice teased from behind.

You can read the book for curiosity's sake but not reading the book will not disturb the flow of the story so enjoy ! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *