Blowie Book Pages Novels & Stories

All she needed was glue… Natasha opened the drawer under the desk to find the glue but accidentally bumped into a book. She frowned and took out the book. The edges of the pages had turned reddish-brown. The book cover's luster had also worn off. The creases on the book corners and the paper scraps stuck inside the book indicated that the book's owner had flipped through it countless times. Her gaze faltered for a moment, and the corner of her mouth turned up slightly in a smile. The more she tried to numb herself, the more he appeared.

He seemed to have known what I was going to do. "I am confiscating all your books that have anything to do with the Moon Goddess and me!" I pushed him away as he had gotten too close to me. I scampered into his chamber and right there on the table, I saw the big book. Luckily, it was opened to the page of growing wings and soaring high. I was first attracted by the drawings on the page. A lady stood beside a cliff in the first drawing and jumped into the cliff in the second drawing. In the third drawing, she had grown wings while flying back up.

Until she got to the page... Only it wasn’t there. Yeap, it was literally blank. Ariel had gotten to the five hundred and thirty-seventh page, and she had flipped it a tad too fast, eager to get to her desired number, but there was nothing there. And so was the other page number that followed it. “W-what the…” Ariel stuttered, trying to describe what she was feeling. Was it disappointment or anger? She peeped closer into the book, looking for any signs, and on close inspection, she could see that the pages had been carefully ripped off so as not to make it obvious.

I asked. Bibi Kamwe moved like a ghost, pulling a book from beneath the floorboards. The cover was made of some kind of dried, dark leather. It creaked when she opened it. The pages were stained, ink running in twisted scrawls. “You must make the vessel,” she said. “What vessel?”

She slapped the book down in front of Willow who just stared at it. There was nothing on the cover to belie what was inside. She unwrapped the leather thong that held it closed and carefully opened it. The pages were yellowed with age and soft around the edges where it had been thumbed through many times. It surprisingly didn't smell musty but rather spicy…like her and her house. She gave her grandmother a quizzical look.

I'd been reading it a lot lately, desperate to find answers. I flipped through the pages, noticing something odd for the first time. A page was missing. Ripped out, to be exact. I blinked hard, bringing the inside spine of the book closer so I could properly inspect. I hadn't been seeing things. The paper left on the page was uneven, an indication that someone had torn a page out. Why would someone do that? I scanned the surrounding pages, trying to make sense of the missing section. It seemed to be a crucial part of the book, detailing werewolf lore, ancient rituals and witch potions.

Legends of the End Times. Okay. A little on the nose. She pulled it out. The book snapped open like it had been waiting for her. Pages fluttered violently — way too violently for the still air. Most were gone. Torn out. Clean edges, not ragged. Deliberate. Only one page remained. Scrawled in handwriting that wasn't printed: She will bloom when all else dies. Aria stared. The ink bled at the edges. Not like water damage. Like tears.

It hadn't been touched in a while because it looked brand new though very dusty. I opened it and cold wind blew gushed through my face. It was as strong and cold as the first wind. I turned back to the cover of the page to check for anything but it was blank black. Only golden stripes at the spine of the book didn't make it completely dull. I placed my finger on the book to swipe the pages but the book took control and swiped the page by itself, leading me to a page I would have least expected it to be. 'The joy of a mother'

And there was a boyish excitement in his voice that made her laugh. As she turned the pages again, There were more pictures of her, but on another page, A piece of paper had been pasted in. A drawing not of her. But of a hollow circle of wood, the grain spinning around the outside and through the centre. Her forehead creased as she turned the book through ninety degrees, trying to see where this fitted into the story. Maybe it was pasted into the wrong book? She thought. But when she turned the page, there it was again. The grain slightly different this time, more delicate. And the dimensions were different, too. The outer circle slightly narrower, the space inside larger.

I should frame this! I continued opening the pages of the book but they were just pure white and empty. I sighed , my hands dropping to the book. Maybe the whole point of looking into the box was to find the picture. All of a sudden my hands began to glow really brightly and so did the first page of the book, or maybe not!. What in the world is going on?