Angled Bookshelf Novels & Stories

I walked over to the children's books area, I was thankful no one was around as I sat down in a beanbag after grabbing a few books to read. "Ella, stop slouching around and get to work" my manager yells at me, there was no one in the shop while I was sitting around here. I looked up to see a woman standing next to the register, I huffed angrily and put the book away before walking over to the nice looking lady. "Hi ma'am, how may I help you?" I ask the woman, she was only about five feet tall, with brown long hair and brown eyes. "Hello, I'm here for the new werewolf story" she says looking at me, I tried my best to hide under my own overgrown bangs.

Adding beauty and functionality to its construction. She slid one of the high ladders on its rusted metal wheels. Opting to review higher shelves on the bottom level rather than taking those stairs. He winced at the sound grating in his sensitized ears. Making the delicate drum thrum with the sound. He tilted his head to tuck it against his shoulder and blocked the other with a palm. Perhaps it has been a bit since I oiled them. *** Elsabet tentatively stepped under one of the many archways. This one completely filled with curving shelves which were laden with heavy red and brown leather volumes, beckoning to share their knowledge.

she voiced and I shrugged my shoulders, not looking so convinced. Holding the handles of the doors, I jiggled them and pushed them open with a gentle yet purposeful motion, revealing a sight that took her breath away. The room before us was a bibliophile’s paradise. Or as I like to call it, my book heaven. Towering bookshelves adorned the walls from floor to ceiling, filled with books of various sizes, colours, and ages.

At least, my attire had amused Paige. Vince's bedroom was enormous: a four-poster bed with two bedside tables on each side, a broad drawer opposite the bed with an LCD television on it, a huge bookshelf beside the double door closet and a chaise lounge sofa in one corner of the room. The bed had a dark red fabric draped between the posts and a double duvet arranged over the bed. I walked over to the bookshelf and traced my hands over the books—all lined alphabetically. He had every play of Shakespeare's stacked on a separate shelf. I began shuffling through the books.

It was lined by thousands of shelves with numerous volumes of books in hardcover and paperbacks. In the middle of the numerous shelves was a large reading table made painted brown. I pulled myself to my feet and walked towards the table, leaning on it. It was dusty of course, but I was too weak to care. I placed my head on the table and drew in a deep breath, tears flooding my eyes.

I muttered with a look of awe and admiration. It was like stepping into a fantasy library. The walls were soft-tone red with flecks of black and white. Shelves and shelves of books were neatly arranged in a circular manner. In the center was a little table with an unlit scented candle and two rows of beautiful bookmarks. Three chairs were alongside. There was also a coffee maker in the corner and a soft looking couch.

A few business cards. No phone. I stood still, letting my eyes scan the room again. If he hid it, he wouldn’t choose something obvious. He treated his study like a second bedroom private, curated, and arranged to his liking. My eyes drifted to the bookshelf. One of the lower cabinets stayed locked most of the time. But next to it, the open shelf held rows of books arranged neatly. Except one. A thick hardcover near the right side wasn’t aligned with the rest. It stuck out slightly as if it had been pulled recently.

While Evelyn wandered from room to room imagining where plants would eventually die under her care, Charles unpacked books with the solemn concentration of a museum curator handling priceless artifacts. History. Architecture. Economics. Engineering. Each subject occupied its own shelf. Each shelf was alphabetized. Each book stood perfectly aligned. Evelyn leaned against the doorway, folded her arms, and watched the performance. "I just want you to know," she said, "if we're ever robbed, the burglar is going to reorganize your bookshelf out of pure spite." Charles didn't even look up. "He'll put the philosophy section beside civil engineering." "Monster." "It would be unforgivable."

Everything in the room spoke of the Liam I knew and loved - organized, clean, thoughtful about his space and belongings. Finally, I made my way to his bookshelf, which stood against the wall near his window. The shelves were lined with textbooks from his classes, a few novels, and some basketball-related books about strategy and training. I ran my finger along the spines, reading the titles and looking for anything that seemed out of place. That's when my eyes landed on a big book that looked a bit weird compared to the others. It was positioned differently, angled slightly outward as if it had been recently moved or replaced. The binding looked older than the other textbooks, and something

An​d behind it‍, f‍loo​r-to-ceiling s​helves. My eyes​ s​canned​, frantic. Le⁠a‍th​er-bound books​. A small bronze statue​. Framed ac‍colades. And⁠ then, on​ t​he middl‍e shelf, slight‌ly apart from t⁠he rest as if in i‍ts‌ own sacred space: a simple, thi‌n black frame.