Bodega Book Novels & Stories

At first , her hand forms a circle and then a triangle – her mouth vomit words that none of us understand. “Who are you and what do you think you are doing?!” Andrew asks again , before raising to his feet. However , the woman continues to ignore him and chant. “This is your last warning to speak –“ Britney and I , watch in absolute horror as a small wave of some sort emits from her hands which begins to float towards us. Andrew is the first to come into contact with it , and this making him fall to the fall with a heavy thud. I rise from my bed , watching as Britney also fall unconscious by it’s touch – my sudden movement earns me a growl from the wolf. I start backing away , trying my har

“Since you’re back, are you going to pick the next book?” I blinked. “Me?” “Of course,” she said, smiling. “You’ve been gone. You deserve the honor.” Everyone nodded expectantly. I looked down at the stack of books on the table, my fingers brushing across their covers. My hand paused on a novel about love, identity and societal expectations. This book will give them a glimpse of what I passed through during my absence. I smiled softly. “How about this one?” Brent groaned. “Oh no, not another depressing tragedy. Can’t we read something with a hopeful romance?”

"Move!" Bima’s shout ripped through the alley as he shoved Lia and Riska forward, his eyes locked on the advancing figures in white. The notebook, his new, precious burden, was tucked tight against his chest. The eatery owner’s voice, amplified by some unseen device, boomed, "It's futile, Bima. The Palate is everywhere. It is you." But Bima felt a counter-current, a faint thrumming from the notebook, a ghost of that unique flavor. It was a whisper against the roaring phantom hunger.

The city sky had grown dark to a mellow gray, the kind that swathed everything in gentleness—buildings, trees, people. Rain still lingered in the air, shrouding the windows of **Chapter & Soul** in a soft mist. Inside, the world progressed more slowly, more softly. It was perfumed with old books, chamomile tea, and something sweet that Lena had baked and not labeled.

The charm Jayde had given me swung back and forth around the sow’s neck, glinting faintly under the moonlight, making the entire scene even more grotesque. I clamped a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. And then, my phone suddenly lit up. I glanced down. It was a message from @HollowBranch. "Don’t trust her. She’s trying to use your womb to raise something evil."

He shook her from his mind and pushed open the doors to the study. The rug-lined room was bigger than B’s above-garage apartment. Floor to ceiling bookshelves dampened any noise B might made in his whiskey search. There didn’t seem to be a single inch of space on any one of the shelves. Books of all colors, textures, and sizes were packed together. In front of the book spines sat hundreds of little treasures–seashells, pocket watches, glass figurines, and carvings of creatures. So many creatures. B let his fingers drift over the book spines: The Picture of Dorian Gray. The Catcher in the Rye. The Odyssey. Brave New World. The Call of the Wild. White Noise. So many stories he’d never read and

With this book, Bia first learned about her parent's history. She would spend hours in the afternoon lying on the wooden floor of her room on the boat just reading the book. It was a huge book made entirely of dark leather. There was nothing on the cover, just the leather, so that a thief would not think it was valuable. But if you dared to open the book the first words you would read were "treasure book". The first time Bia opened the book she did not know what treasure means so she did not got from the first page before letting the book aside and going back to play.

Charles became Vice President of the company after Garrett's disappearance, and I do not regret the decision, he has done an amazing job. As president, CEO and owner, I am enjoying how much "Eldridge Books" is flourishing, not only in America but, also in England. I need to make these trips every so often, and it is good to return to the old country for myself, to refresh. I have moved my main store from London to Liverpool. I tried returning to London, but the memories of our life were too real, and everything kept hitting me like a truck, bringing me back to that horrendous night. I have found Liverpool more to my liking and regret never having visited before. I did not think it would happ

Mom and Elena rising together and applauding. Richard stood last. Slow. The coat unbuttoning. His clap heavy and deliberate. Something closer to acknowledgment. Seven people. Standing. In a basement bookstore in Portland. For a book about a bar and a boy and a sabotage and a hospital and a kitchen floor and a family that broke and rebuilt and held. The crowd drifted toward the signing table. I stepped off the podium. A woman stopped me – tired eyes, worn jacket, a fresh copy clutched in white-knuckled hands.