Blowie Book Pages Novels & Stories

I press my hand to him, trying to get him to stay still. “I can help,” I murmur, fumbling with the heavy book in my lap. He pauses, eyes darting to the old book. His gaze hardens in suspicion but then softens. He recognizes what it is. I flip frantically through the brittle pages. 39… 91… 180… Focus. My fingers finally find the right page and relief washes over me when I spot the illustrations. I place the book next to me and take the bag, searching for the right leaves stuffy stuff. I do not know what. At least the book has pictures in color.

I ordered, stretching my hand towards it. True enough, beautiful flowers sprouted around, creating a dazzling sight. This was new. Queen Belinda and X didn't mention that I could create things. And wasn't I tied up at Tyler's domain moments ago? Where was this place? And what was this book? Its pages were still open, and I blinked when it began flipping again. When it finally paused at a page, I frowned. And that was because words weren't written on this page, rather it was drawn. Like a real image was drawn on the page.

Rose stood up and flipped through the pages but it was just blank. She took it close to the window, hoping it was a trick of light. She flipped through the pages gently and still, there was nothing, not even an ink stain on the brown pages.

Flipping to the next page, I try to see if there's any indication of a title, since neither the front page nor first page have one. I don't see anything of the sort. Instead, I find a paragraph of ink marks that look similar to the one on the first page. "Is this a joke?" I flip to the next page and find the same handwriting, but the text in this one looks longer. Groaning, already starting to get irritated by the seemingly pointless search, I flip through some more pages, hoping that I find something meaningful. Rather, most of the pages of the book are blank. Just bare sheets of paper.

Yam sliced it open slowly, hands trembling. Inside was their book. “The Art of Staying.” Cover: a sunflower. A crooked shelf. Two mugs—one chipped. And behind it all, the suggestion of a fan, mid-spin. Franc stared at it like it might whisper back. “Feels unreal,” Yam said. Franc flipped through pages. Some with artwork. Others with Yam’s poetry. Their story—wired beginnings and all—now bound in matte finish. “I think this book breathes,” Franc said.

The book had an entire thirty-page chapter on soul resurrection but not soul fetching. Slightly annoyed, Levy started to look through the books again and this time much more carefully as she stared at each page until she was sure that she wasn’t missing anything finally she found what exactly was wrong at the end of the third book. “ Someone tore pages from this book,” murmured Levy as she ran her fingers through the rough yet very clean edge of the torn page. Whoever tore the pages of the book, did it very carefully… in fact, they did it so cleanly that Levy would’ve never found what was wrong with the book unless she carefully skimmed through each page.

Next thing I know she'll be telling me she knows how to fly. "Open it," Alice says, handing the book over. I crack the book in the middle, but... the page is blank. Flipping through the tome, I find that every page is that way. "What am I supposed to do?" I ask. “It’s blank.” "For now," Alice says. The page suddenly begins to fill with words. "It's writing itself," I say, in shock. How is this possible? I turn the book over and study its spine, looking for the mechanical trick. It looks like any other book, though.

Gerey on the other hand expected the pages of the book to shine bright gold - almost blinding so that he could tear off a few pages for sale, but none of their wishes was answered as the book failed to flip open and reveal what was in it. “What's this all about!?” Cwena asked frustratedly, turning the book over and over again, trying to find how it was to be opened, “Are we to say Open Sesame!!?” “Let me try,” Gerey said and snatched the book out of Cwena's hands before she slammed it or threw it out the window above them in exasperation. As Gerry held the book, a thick, suffocating chunk of smoke began to escape from its edges. Gerry dropped it down in shock and stared at his hands.

Her hands tingled as a thought popped up in her head: her fingertips have some glow to them, as if she just dipped them into some periwinkle glitter. "I want to have a book," she whispered. "I want to be able to write something that nobody else can see." Before she could even properly say her wish, her hands moved on their own. As she drew waves in the wind, a book appeared out of nowhere, floating right in front of her. It was a blank book, with covers made from gold, it seems. When she opened the pages, there was nothing written. The blank pages were waiting for her to input something.

I got up from my seat and searched through the multiple shelfes looking for the red covered book which has a case similar to the present one at my hand. Shelf.....5.....no....7 Finally I found it. As I pulled the red covered book out but by mistake another book slipped from it's place and landed on the italian tiles with a thud. I bended down to pick it up but the picture on the opened page made me stop all of a sudden That sighn.... How could it be here?? I picked it up to see that the same sign I saw 10 years back was there clear and distinct. A thunder mark bordered by lightning blue colour.