Book Extracts Novels & Stories

The doors creaked as she pushed them open, revealing what lay inside. The cabinet was filled with papers, old books, and trinkets, the remnants of a past long forgotten. Bliss ran her fingers over the contents, her heart racing with each new discovery. Among the books, she found a leather-bound journal, its pages yellowed with age. The title, written in faded gold lettering, read Blackwood Family History. She pulled it out and opened it, her hands trembling with anticipation.

**** The bookstore is well known throughout Indonesia because of its branches everywhere. Like now, Alsava is rarely interested in Best Seller shelves because they are often deceived by stories that promise to make crying and laughing together. What else is read by millions of people from an authoring platform. It is as if the promotional words on the cover of the book only explain that the contents of the book do not believe that in oneself.

Cela remains disappointed. "C'mon. It's not like they bought everything. They just thought of giving the books as Christmas presents apart from the corporate giveaways. You must know that your mother enjoyed your first book so much. Too bad that she passed before the second one is out," Nanny Rita continued. "You've always been loyal to her," Cela said.

But she… didn’t flinch. Lena walked over to a little table display and picked up a thin, cloth-bound book. She walked over to him, holding it out like an offering. *The Quiet Between Lightning Strikes.* A poetry book. The cover was old and nubbly, the title scribbled in fine silver ink. Julian stared at it like it was an alien thing. "What's this?" "A book," she said, smiling. "I told you. I don't—"

I can’t explain it, but I don’t have to, either, if I don’t bring it up, and I’m not one to ever start conversations. I sniff the paperback—old, musty paper, glue, and Justus—and set it on the pallet. The next book in the pile, Peter Kropotkin’s The Conquest of Bread, has a picture of two men chopping down a tree on the cover. It smells the same. All the books are dog-eared paperbacks with yellowed pages—Walden by Henry David Thoreau, Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler, Critique of Practical Reason by Immanuel Kant, several each by Ursula K. Le Guin and N. K. Jemison, and a massive hardback of Plato’s collected works. The Plato is the only one that looks like it hasn’t been read a hundre

Some old collections rich people used to show off to their fellow rich people There was a large desk in the corner with an antique-looking lamp on top, the bulb seemed to be lit but not on, there were strange-looking books, some with leather covers, others paper, some old, some brand new with pages that fell open and wrinkled under my fingers. There were even some books with gold writing on the cover but none of them looked like they were readable, I picked up the nearest one, it was titled in Latin. Opening the book carefully, the first page was blank except for two black lines that started from the middle of it, it looked like someone had drawn something underneath them. They weren't words

**Elizabeth's POV** * I waited for Brandon's rant and scolding, but he did not do it. He just fished a few books out of the drawer, tossed them to me, and went back to sleep. I took several deep breaths before I picked up the books. They were not textbooks. They were obviously checked out from the library. Not everyone has the right to enter the library. Because many books in the library are confidential. And the three books Brandon gave me were World Geography, Warrior Combat Skills, and Medicine Encyclopedia.

Kai walked off toward Ms Leta who was still busy reading her book, probably to speak to her about something. Clarissa didn’t follow him as she was drawn to the shelves already. She walked through the rows as her fingers brushed along the books gently. Most of the books had thick covers. “Pattern Drafting Vol 1,”Clarissa read the book titles in a low tone as her eyes wandered to find the one she wanted. “History of Fabric Dyeing, Creative Sketching 101.” She moved down the aisles, her eyes still scanning the books. Some were old while others looked rather new.

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