Book Cover Novels & Stories

I nod and look around. “Where is the book?” I ask. She wasn’t carrying anything when she entered the room. “I always carry it with me, you just can’t see it,” Shanna explains. She mutters a couple of strange words, holds out her hand, and a book appears and falls onto it. The cover is fine leather engraved with a vine-like design that swirls around the edges of a large picture. The picture depicts a woman standing with her arms stretched up above her head. Above her, there are stars in the sky and I swear I see one twinkle. Shanna opens to the first page and I am stunned to see a spell.

The knowledge contained within the book was unlike anything I had ever seen before, and I knew that it would change my life forever. When I made to hold the book, I noticed its intricate designs etched into the cover. The patterns were so detailed and precise, it was as if they had been carved by hand. I ran my fingers over the designs, feeling the grooves and ridges beneath my fingertips. The book felt ancient, as if it had been around for centuries.

"I'm not interested in linking with anyone." Celeste's smile returned, but it was tinged with a hint of malice. "Just think about it, Ava. I'm here to help. Nothing else." As I glanced at the book, I saw that the cover was old and worn, with strange symbols etched into the leather. But it was the image on the front that caught my attention. Two women, dressed in strange, flowing clothing, gazed back at me. Their faces were identical, with high cheekbones and piercing green eyes. They wore intricately designed headdresses, with gemstones that seemed to shimmer in the dim light.

I can’t believe what I'm seeing right now. "Fuck, it's already released?" I asked in disbelief. I could not stop my hands from taking a copy of my book. The cover of this book is very familiar to me, it was me and Zie but our faces are cut, Zie's naked body is the only thing I love about the cover as if he's compelling you to grab the book and buy it. "Yes, it was distributed the other day at different national bookstores," Zie informs me. I stared at my book again, it's really beautiful, the cover was hardbound so it seemed like it was just like the international books that were released.

But I knew some hill folk—especially a hoodoo man named Clive Hartley—who could read Latin, so I put it aside for later. I looked back into the box and of course, that’s when I found it. The book that’s caused all this trouble. The Way of Ah-Tzenul. Course, that’s not what’s printed on the cover. There’s a picture of some sorta tribal man squatting down with both hands raised to the sky etched into the cover and traced in silver. Otherwise, it’s a plain-looking book, all bound in pebbly black leather.

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.

“Ah, I know this book. It’s the personal journal of wielder Kea. I haven't seen this in ages. How do you like it so far?” I flipped the book to look at its front cover. It was a simple, slightly dried leather-covered book with frayed pages and an old musty book smell. There were no writings on it, which made me arch my brow at how Denis knew what the book was about. “How did you know?”

I stretch up on my toes and pull it out, and seconds later I succeeded like I always do when I put my mind on things. Sending a cloud of dust motes swirling into the air while allowing it for a moment to escape from the shelf, I blew the dust from the cover. There were no words printed on the front or spine, just a simple black leather binding cracking with age, and strange symbol I do not recognize.

What book is that? Jai leaned over to the front and took the book from the cushion to examine it. It was light and a bit thin. There was a picture in the cover that looked like a forest, and a small boy was in the picture, picking some mushrooms. The title was written in artistic way, like a children book would.

With each book returned to its rightful place, I felt a sense of satisfaction wash over me, a reminder of the joy that could be found in the quiet moments spent lost in a good book. As I reached for the last book, my fingers brushed against something unexpected—a beautiful tome hidden between the others. Its cover shimmered with an ethereal glow, adorned with intricate golden filigree and embellished with symbols of ancient power. The crest on its cover depicted a majestic dragon intertwined with delicate vines, its scales gleaming in the soft light of the library. “Wow,” I muttered, brushing my fingers over the book. Intrigued by its beauty, I carefully opened the book, revealing pristine p