Book Fragment Novels & Stories

Seeing Draco was sleeping peacefully I took my cloth bag and came down… however I accidently tripped my foot on last step of old wooden staircase and ended up falling on knees while my cloth bag went flying in air and all of my book were shattered out in a mess. “Ooww……” I lightly winced and rubbed knees with my palm when suddenly something caught my attention… One of my books was shattered open while a specific page was flickering because of shallow breeze that was flowing around… I want able to read what was on that page however a picture that was drawn on it caught my attention… it was of snake or to be more specific a blue colored snake which was having some rune printed on it..… My curi

Phobos pipes in telling me of his doubts about my accomplishment of his exercise. Grinding my teeth I claw on it and adding pressure to it has a piece pop up from the page. I startle dropping the book to the grass floor, caught off guard. Peering in I see fur peeking from underneath the piece. Time is running out. Taking a small breath I slowly tear the piece from the book. It comes off easily as if it was meant to whilst uncovering a small picture of four baby wild hares sleeping in a basket. There weren't merely four hares but eight.

Ahead, a yawning crack that had opened earlier between aisles—an ink‑filled void we’d been skirting around—began to close. Stone blocks rose out of the darkness one by one, like steps in an invisible staircase, locking together. Words bloomed across them as they surfaced: BRIDGE, SAFE, HOLD. Each block thudded into place with the finality of a period. The floor stitched itself into a path. A screen shard from the Admin’s body spun down, angling straight for Corvin’s head. Before I could move, the nearest shelf lurched sideways just enough that the glass hit wood instead, burying itself in a copy of NEON GRAVE CITY—HAZARD SUBROUTINES The book took the blow and burned from the inside, its text

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.

Set it on the table and opened to the section where pages had been torn out. Four pages. Gone. Removed with surgical precision. I ran my fingers along the ragged edges still clinging to the binding. The paper was not yellowed like the rest of the book. Not aged. The tears were clean. Recent. Very recent. I pulled the lamp closer. Examined the binding. There. At the base of the torn section. A fragment. So small I had missed it the first time. A corner of a page that had not completely pulled free. I used my fingernail to carefully extract it. The fragment was maybe an inch square. Most of it blank. But in the corner. A few words visible in that same ancient script.

Just cake and people who cared. June handed me a fork, then wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “You’re the bravest person I know.” That did it. The tears hit before I could stop them. Harper stood and crossed the room. “We have one more thing.” She pulled a small wrapped bundle from her bag and handed it to me. It was soft, heavy, and wrapped in faded red fabric. “What is it?” I asked, unwrapping it carefully. “A book,” she said simply. “Old. Been in my family for generations. Healing magic. Not for beginners, so don't accidentally summoning a thunderstorm.”

Add my books to your library and read them. Thanks.

I recently logged in a relative device in hopes to complete the book. peace out.

She noticed some reports were invisible and didn't give fewer details like the other meetings they were in. "There are some questionable stocks in the report, would you mind explaining it to me?" Mrs. Riley asked as she placed down the documents. She took a deep breath and replied, "the materials were canvassed the last three days and estimated the materials that were suited for the given budget. My team will report the final number of the materials." "It makes sense… there's one material floating even though we gave the budget. The tiles that was needed to be ordered now in France, right? Should be the materials are here by this week?"

Liana’s POV I burst into Blake’s room. He’s draped in an armchair by the window and doesn’t look up from the book he’s reading—the blue tome with stars on the spine that he took from my chambers. “Please, do come in, little rabbit.” He flicks to the next page. “No need to knock.” “He’s hurt. You need to come. Now.” “What’s wrong with him?” “Wolfsbane.” His expression is unreadable, but he gets up.