Angled Bookshelf Novels & Stories

Heavier. The walls were covered with tall bookshelves that reached all the way to the ceiling, packed tightly with old, leather-bound books. Some looked so worn it felt like they might fall apart if touched. The air was thick with dust, and every breath carried that dry, aged smell of forgotten things. At the center of the room stood a large desk, beautifully carved, almost like a piece of art. But what sat on top of it made the place feel… wrong. Strange objects were scattered across its surface.

Why she died. After giving a glare, he stood from the wooden chair and strode to the shelf behind him. The bookshelves seemed like they would collapse any moment under the pressure of the numerous books and files stuffed into them. Each one with a label, organised in neat rows on the shelves He looked at the third column and then at the fourth column. Each book was identical, but only the Mage would ever know every book and their locations. He took out a medium sized book that looked different from the others. It was bound with beautiful teal leather that caught my eye.

Unfortunately, every volume on advanced calculus, statistics, and logarithms is found up here. And, unfortunately, so are many of the more technical volumes pertaining to chemistry. Alex turns from the shelf and spots me before I’ve noticed the tall shadow stretching across the beaten, fraying carpet belongs to him. He slides the book he was eyeing back onto the shelf, catching me by the arm when I try to slide past him. “Wait.”

The ceiling was filed with books logically scattered and the other books were neatly organized in golden shelves and some were also kept inside glass jars with descriptions written on its body. There are also portraits if different famous writers and poets on every wall with little papers pasted under them. "I wonder if someone have already read all the books here." Angela murmured, still astounded by the interior of the museum . "Maybe the one who built it is a total book nerd. He already read millions of books but he isn't brave enough to throw away even one book from his collection so he just decided to build a museum where he can put his books at" I kidded.

I stepped closer to the middle shelf, my soft work shoes making no sound against the black stone floor. I did not just dust the shelves tonight. I reached out my hand, my thick maintenance glove rubbing against the cold iron, and touched the thick spine of an ancient history book about the early northern territories. I gripped the leather and pulled it out slightly, moving it just half an inch forward. It was no longer perfectly aligned with the rest of the row. It stuck out, a tiny flaw in his perfect wall. Then, I walked to the next shelf on the opposite wall. I found a heavy, gold-lettered ledger about ancient pack laws and territorial boundaries. I took it down completely, slid it to the

On that account, Evy can relate to her shock. It was also the second-largest room in the house with the ballroom taking first. The height of each shelf was something to be astounded about as they almost reached the ceiling. Whereas the books stacked together all in meticulous fashion. "Are all these allowed to be borrowed?" As the woman began to look at the spines of books and touch them in fever.

I went downstairs and came across an open space without a door. His “small” library was almost the size of my apartment! And it was absolutely beautiful. One entire wall was made of glass, offering a breathtaking view of the vineyards and the pool, the same one I could see from my bedroom. The remaining walls were covered with dark wooden bookshelves, each one subtly illuminated by small lights. Every shelf had its own literary genre, marked by small red plaques. In the center of the room stood an imposing mahogany desk with a leather chair.