Book Hood Novels & Stories

“Sure thing, sweetie. I’ll bring it right up.” “Thanks Etsu.” “No problem, kiddo. And the tarts on the house.” As Etsu walked over to serve the other guy Caitlynn reached into her bag and pulled out her book. For today it was The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. She turned to her bookmark, slipped it out and began reading from page 193. Her gaze swept across the pages, dark brown eyes drinking in every word in the tale told by Death. She loved this book because the characters intrigued her, most specifically the main protagonist, Liesel.

Because just as I was finishing the last bite of my sandwich, I saw a man across the street, walking with a slight hunch, with a hoodie pulled low over his head. But the design on the back was a silver snake against the black color of the hoodie, curled with its head poised as if it was ready to strike. The same one described by Judge Mendez’s housekeeper. My heart stuttered and I dropped the sandwich, slapped a handful of bills onto the table and bolted for the door. The bell chimed again as I pushed through it, my eyes locked on the hoodie slipping into the alley. Maybe all the hell I’d been dragged through was about to make sense.

Nothing could go wrong today, he thought to himself. He checked his watch for the umpteenth time that day, from the corner of his eye he saw a man crossing the street in a very big hoodie. There was a shotgun on his other hand slightly concealed from Adrian. Although the man had the hoodie cap over his head, he got a glimpse of the man’s face when he looked in his direction. It was a familiar face. It took him a couple of minutes. “Mason. Mason Blackwood! He had a grudge against Henry...”

There are always spiders and creepy things in garages and I was barefoot. After I found the keys I stayed on the floor feeling around for the box. The hard cold cement was scraping my knees and I was feeling more and more frustrated as I felt around. A few minutes later I felt a metal box. It had a strange latch and I imagined a box like the ones that the army uses for bullets. I reached inside and felt what must have been my hood. I gripped the hood in my teeth as best I could before dropping the keys back in the box. The clang, when they struck the bottom told me I made the mark- a small victory. Feeling for the bumper of the car, I supported myself and stood up. The hood was made of wool

CHAPTER: 1. **** It was early in the morning and Adrian has just closed his night shift. Tired he dragged his feet on the cold concrete. To say that he was tired would be an understatement at this stage, he barely feels alive not to mention starving too. A chilling cold wind blew past him and he shivered and stopped short in his tracks. He ripped his backpack from his back and dropped the navy blue bag on the ground, then he went on his knees and unzipped the bag, one hand reaching inside and pulling out his favorite faded blue hoodie. It was his favorite because he couldn't afford the luxury of buying himself a new one. Adrian pulled the hoodie on and covered his head, then he strapped his

He also saw the occasional hold up in the jewelry store but he'd biked past without a fleeting, backwards glance. To stand up for someone in the hood was to keep stakes on your life. After all it wasn't his problem. Sticking up for others in the hood would only get you hurt. Out there, it was 'Everyone man for himself'. Hunter sighed again, his shoulders slouching at the edges. He rubbed his face with his hand, noticing how thick it felt. He sneaked a glance at his digital wristwatch and saw it was only five minutes prior to closing bell. Thank God for his hoodie.

So I railed everything in, and just enjoyed the feeling of her hand in mine. Did I just think in terms of relationship? Huh? Once inside, her head whipped around and I checked what got her attention. Some guy was walking in. He was tall, like really tall, like a head above mine tall. Hair so black it was nearly blue, dark eyes, and a don’t-mess-with-me expression on his face that seemed to be his default setting, or maybe he’s just eaten something that wasn’t fresh. A few people got out of the way. Actually, he didn’t have to waltz around people, they just parted for him. And then I heard someone close-by utter: “I was never told the bloody Hellhound was coming.” The Hellhound? Well, fuck!

“Ah! I'm going to kill you! I’ll kill you!” Hood roared as he rushed at Philip without any moves or techniques. He was just attacking Philip from instinct. Philip shook his head disdainfully and threw a seemingly light punch, hitting the cheek of the incoming Hood. Hood fell to the ground with his head crooked. His body twitched, and he gradually stopped moving.

He was eagerly looking towards her, urging with his eyes that she get up and follow the group back into the library. Katalea stood, it was time to see what all the fuss was about. They stood in a circle around Luca, who donned medical gloves that stopped at the elbow. He reached into the glass case that housed the book and before he could attempt to open the book, the front page fell open, revealing an ornate depiction of an old robbed man with a staff. He had a long gray beard, braided down his chest, and weather-beaten skin hidden mostly beneath his tattered and layered robe. His blue eyes leapt off the page imploring the reader to inquire further. Or perhaps run away. Katalea wasn’t

Minnow pulled the hoody off her head, got out of the car, and walked into the small coffee shop. The owner was refilling baked goods into the glass cabinet display as she entered the door and set off a small metal bell above the door. "Good morning Miss." The friendly owner grinned when he heard the bell. The man was short and stocky and wore a grey apron over his round belly. He had a bushy beard, and his rounded cheeks wobbled when he spoke. "Good morning." Minnow chimed back. "Could I please have a Cappuccino to go?"