Back Of Beyond Bookstore Novels & Stories

I looked around and remembered about the store that I saw earlier. I just have to be quick, right? Asher's Point of View. "Here's your order, Sir." I heard the woman said and gave me the paper bag which contains the food that they wanted me to order. I decided to go buy these first because I saw the long line here. "Here. Thank you." I said and gave the money as a payment. I walked out of the store with the paper bag. I pulled the list that Dara made earlier with the materials we need for painting. When I saw the National Bookstore, I immediately walked in.

I stay behind in the bookstore and look at the photographs from earlier when Myra texts me. Myra: ‘Hey, can you please come to the backdoor of the bookstore?’ Me: ‘What’s wrong?’ Myra: ‘It’s urgent. Please?’ Me: ‘Sure. On my way.’ I grab my purse and head for the backdoor of the bookstore. The door opens to a dark alley with minimum lights from the street lamps. I step outside and close the door behind me. Turning on the torch on my phone, I can see where to place my foot. Though still, I can’t see anyone in the darkness.

’ she thought to herself, though she hesitated to admit why she felt happy about it. Still, the anticipation was there. Alica was almost done with the current book in her hands—a literature text regarding the common practices of the people of H’Trae which had now been outlawed. She had read this particular book before, but that was so long ago—back when she had just started frequenting the Library. A lot had happened since then, and so she wanted to revisit the literature to see if she could have a new, more informed, understanding of what she had read before.

But cross her, hurt someone she loves, and the toy poodle turns into Cerberus. “I’m going shopping later today,” she says, coming back behind the counter and pulling a notebook out of the drawer under the register so she can start making a list. “Shopping” is code for she’s traveling to another coven to purchase magical supplies. “Do you need anything?” “Black salt and mandrake root,” I tell her quietly, eyeing the couple who went right to the romance section. We’re the only independent bookstore in the area, and after the last big chain retailer went out of business, things really picked up for us.

It seems like it's been long since they last use the library by how dusty it looked. My mouth forms a thin line this will be my resting place. Not knowing that by entering this room I've gotten myself into trouble. There are lot of books to choose from. My eyes catches one with the name 'The shy girl: A Muslim story' I flipped open the front page reading through, the book seems interesting. Keeping it aside, I scan through other books, coming across one with Jawad written boldly on the cover. it looked like a diary. Curiosity got me and I find myself turning over the first page Jawad mustafa written on the first page, my brows furrowed in confusion. Why is it jawad Mustafa instead of jawad A

"Then no." They worked in easy silence after that. The store was narrow, crammed with secondhand fiction, occult guides, poetry chapbooks, and weirdly specific memoirs no one asked for but somehow still sold. Aria loved it. The smell, the hush, the way time bent in corners when you were surrounded by too many lives stacked on dusty shelves. A box waited behind the counter. Niko tapped it. "From some estate guy. Might be haunted." "Everything in here might be haunted."

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"Shawn, I'm heading out to pick up some inventory. Keep an eye on the shop for a bit. "And Ms. Hartley from next door should be stopping by to settle her tab. The ledger's in the cabinet beside the counter. Just double-check it when she gets here." I vaguely heard my mother talking near my ear. I mumbled a few sleepy replies before drifting off again. I had been pulling all-nighters for the past few days, finishing my thesis, and I was completely wiped out. I hadn't even made it home. I just stopped by my mother's shop, found a bed in the storage room at the back, and collapsed.

I reacted with a jolt and wrestled my baby back into my arms. In the tussle, the baby's pants slipped down, revealing his chubby, bare legs. Jasmine's face drained of color, and she let out a piercing scream. Derick, who had just ended a call, looked at her with a furrowed brow, puzzled. "What happened?" Jasmine's gaze was locked onto the baby, then snugly rewrapped in my arms, her voice shaking. "Why doesn't Ayden have a birthmark on his legs?"

Even stranger, Maggie hadn’t even deleted the backup, as if she wanted us to see it on purpose. Suddenly, I remembered a glint of reflected light under the passenger seat after practice that day—something like a tiny lens. A chill crept up my spine. I realized then that this carefully designed trap had been laid long ago. But who was behind it? And why were they determined to push us into a corner like this?