Bible Ribbon Bookmark Novels & Stories

Raff breathes as everyone surges forward to explore the new space. “This is it,” Robert says, holding up a thick ancient-looking book. The cover is made of what looks like delicate leather but there are no markings on the cover to indicate what it is. Deacon takes the book from him and opens it with care. The script is handwritten and as he flicks through the pages it is clear to see that many different people have written in this book, using different writing styles and tools. “What about the branding kit? Do you see it?” Luke asks, drawing everyone’s attention back to the task.

The sign above the door was new. Hand-painted. COLE COMMUNITY LIBRARY No corporation. No board. Just paint and plywood and us. --- Damian held the scissors. Red ribbon. $2 from the craft store. He looked at me. "Ready?" "No," I said. "But do it anyway." Snip. Clapping. Not loud. But real. A little girl broke from the line. Seven, maybe. Pigtails. She went straight to the shelf. Picked a book. Ran back to me.

I bypassed dozens of detailed sketches showing claws and muscle fibers until I reached a section marked with a faded red ribbon. The ancient book fell open naturally to the bookmarked pages, and the bold, handwritten ink at the top of the parchment caught my immediate attention. "I found a specific chapter near the end of the book," I told Connor, leaning my elbows on the wooden podium to read the faded script. "Just take the damn pictures, Jaslyn!" Connor yelled through the small speaker, the sudden noise making me jump. "Stop yelling at me, because I need to read this," I snapped back to quiet his panic.

He gently opened the heavily embossed cover and set aside a bookmark. He read from the fifteenth chapter of Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians. And the last verse he spoke without

Especially after everything they had already uncovered. Ava stepped closer. "The blankets." Everyone looked. Each child was wrapped in the same handmade quilt. Except... The embroidery differed slightly. One blanket carried a blue ribbon. Another had a green ribbon. The third... A gold ribbon. Rebecca looked at Elias. "Did the ribbons mean anything?" He frowned. Then his eyes widened. "Oh..." Claire had embroidered ribbons onto everything in the nursery. Blue for the baby nearest the window. Green for the crib nearest the door.

I wanted to bend that woman over in front of me and slap her gorgeous ass. Finally, the saleswoman returned to serve me, while I was still trying to calm down after encountering that sassy ebony goddess. Finally, the saleswoman convinced me to take a new edition of the Bible with truly beautiful illustrations and a silver rosary with rose-shaped beads. My mother would be thrilled. At the checkout, she wrapped everything up and placed it in a black paper bag with a gold crucifix on it. Then she handed me an envelope. "Sir, the customer in the store asked me to give you this." The saleswoman looked a little startled.

There was one wrapped gift under the tree with Elijah's name on it. He noticed it immediately because it was wrapped precisely — the corners folded with the same quality Alexander brought to the documents he prepared, each edge true, the paper taut, the ribbon exactly centred. It was a small box, the size of a book or possibly a frame. The paper was a deep forest green, matte rather than glossy, and the ribbon was a cream-colored silk that had been tied in a bow so symmetrical it might have been machine-made. The tag said: Elijah. — A.

Richard said as he looked at me and back at the fire, sucking on his pipe. “Are you ready?” Ben sat on the sofa beside me, and the cushions threatened to swallow us both into its comfort. Was I ready? Ready for what? He reached to pick up the King James Bible. Beneath it was various other books, none that I recognized except a translation of the Dead Sea Scrolls.

"And, uhm, thank you for the books, by the way. Also to . . ." "You can call her Ranuz." She walked back to me. I nodded. "To Ranuz as well." Sina then flashed me a soft and warm smile, and from her basket, she handed me a pink peony and a glass bookmark with an hourglass design. "You're always welcome." I couldn't help but raise a brow as I watched her pass by me. "Enjoy your books and stay here." She began to go down the stairs. "Will do." I padded towards the other stairs and quickly climbed them up. I pushed open the curtains of the bed hammock, the one next to the net, and hopped onto it. Good thing the ropes stabilized it.

“Winked at me, the son of a bitch.” Richard looked down at what he’d been given. It was a Bible, the object the admiral had been holding in his lap—removed from its lectern not twenty-four hours prior when Lawrie had hugged himself and ran out of the church with it beneath his jacket. Leather-bound and tattered, really, really old. Rich lifted the worn cover and saw it was printed in a foreign language, glimpsed D. Martin Luthers on a crumbling inner page, 1670 below that. German. Over three hundred years worth of old. But why—