Book Narratives Novels & Stories

We head back towards the house and he bumps into my leg repeatedly, trying to get me to turn around. "Stop trying to herd me. I'm not a sheep." I tell him firmly, tossing him a treat as I walk into the bathroom to brush my teeth before bed. I lay down, thinking about the book as I stare at my ceiling. Basil jumps on the bed, spinning a few times before he lays down next to me. I run my fingers through his fur absentmindedly, my brain refusing to stop spinning as I think about the first few pages of the book. It started out with the beginning stages of a war, the main character building an army of werewolves to defeat their arch nemesis.

I approached slowly, the heels of my boots clicking softly on the polished floor. Drawn like a moth to a flame, I skimmed my fingers across the titles etched on the spines. Tales of kings. Wars. Bloodlines. My gaze caught on a thick, weathered book left open on the desk. Its title was simple: Pack Histories and Blood Betrayals. A cold shiver rippled through me. I leaned over, my shadow swallowing the page, and began to read. At first, it was the usual: chronicles of battles, treaties, ascensions. But then, a word snared me, rooted me in place:

He warned her and threw her away. Caroline didn’t sleep the next night because it was a huge insult for her. And now she planned for a REVENGE. She wanted to destroy my dad and his children but in a way that no one would ever know.The next morning, she woke up early and prepared breakfast for everyone which made my father really happy. “How’s the breakfast Anna and Zac?” “It's really delicious.” Zac smiled

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Julian said, "Deal." Elena started typing. The words came easily. They matched the rhythm of the city. She was not writing about people or ghosts anymore. She was writing about a man and a woman who survived the times and found themselves in a better place. The Rossi Events warehouse was going to be The Narrative. Elena was writing about Julian and her. They were the story now. The Narrative was their beginning.

Collections of fairy tales. Poetry. Travel books. Even worn detective novels with cracked spines from years of being reread. Victor joined her. "I've seen first editions of books worth millions." He smiled quietly. "I don't think I've ever admired a bookshelf more." Serena pulled out one of the novels. The first page carried a handwritten note. Michael, Read widely. The world becomes much harder to manipulate when people know more than one story. Love, Father. She slowly closed the book.

Within seconds, I was scanning lines that felt familiar, making me huff quietly. “This is what she reads?” I muttered, picking up another book with similar themes. This one was about a dominant executive and a stubborn assistant with heated exchanges disguised as professional conflict. Reaching for the third, I shook my head, amused despite myself. “So this is the narrative she consumes, no wonder she talks back.” I muttered, setting the novel down then reached for the stack beneath it. It was a leather bound journal which was worn slightly at the edges from use. I hesitated as personal journals were boundaries but curiosity has always been my flaw.

That counts for something, right? My name is Annalise McDermott. And for the record, I am a nerd. A hopeless romantic. A person who believes in love even when it clearly hates me back. This is my playbook, a chronicle of terrible timing, questionable decisions, and the kind of love that shows up when you least expect it, usually right after you've sworn you’re never falling in love again. So here is a little friendly advice: do not follow my advice. At least not until the very end.

This cafe, was the only thing I held on to assuring myself that this horrible phase in my life would eventually come to an end and even if things don't go back to normal completely, at least I would be able to walk around freely without strangers pointing fingers at me and calling me a murderer. Unfortunately for me though, my hope is now nothing but ashes. Just like that, the only thing that kept me sane disappeared and all I see in front of me is a burnt down building and another murder case that is bound to add more fuel to the already terrible fire in my life. I don't deserve this. No, I don't. I'm too good a person to deserve so many horrible things. I've never hurt anyone and I never w

I couldn't help but giggle at his expense, but at the same time, I didn't want to be blamed for anyone's death. "Okay, I'm sorry. Please don't cancel my admission," I said, feeling defeated. He let out a sigh of relief. "Only on one condition," he said with a smirk. I rolled my eyes. "And what is that?" "You see that bookshelf over there?" he pointed to the corner of his office. I turned to look at the bookshelf, and sure enough, the books were scattered. "What do you want me to do there?" I asked. "Well, you're going to arrange it, and it must be according to their titles," he said, clearly enjoying himself.