Book Object Show Novels & Stories

“Hey… about what you saw earlier.” She jumped, clutching the book to her chest. “I—I didn’t see anything. I swear. I won’t tell anyone.” I smiled softly and stepped even closer, backing her gently against the shelves. “Relax. Professor Harlan and I… we have an understanding. But I saw how you looked at us. You didn’t run away because you were scared. You ran because it turned you on, didn’t it?” Her cheeks burned brighter. She shook her head quickly. “No… that’s not… I’m not—”

Becky asked again. The lady took her hand and take her towards the giant book name “Prophetic Gaze “which has a silver shiny cover. It has a huge golden lock. “What is this giant book”. Becky asked while touching the sparking cover of the book. As she touches the book cover, the strong rays emit from the book and glow the area around it. It is more like a dream. Becky felt a sudden jolt in her fingers which touch the area. She became shocked looking at the book and immediately pull her hand back.

He nodded slowly and before he could say anything more, the bedroom door swung open. Erick and Jess stood at the doorway; they were both breathless, so we knew they were running. Jess held one of the thickest books I had ever seen; it was a large brown book with golden decals swirled throughout the cover. In the front of the book, in a silvery oval was a white infinity symbol I didn’t quite recognize and then written in white above the symbol read: Book of Magic. “Woah…” I breathed, staring at the book. It was real.

The closer I peek at the book, the more I see the bold title. “The tighter the pussy, the greater the bliss: a dick’s way to wet land.” It has the drawing of a monster cock in front of it, curved in the shape of a banana. My body’s already hot as I reach for the book. However, the moment my hand lands on it, something like a machine chimes. It's only then that I realize this isn’t a book. It’s a panel designed as a book. My heart thumps as a distinct groan echoes in the study, startling me.

She answered and pulled Uri's hand toward a glass cabinet in the corner of the gallery. When he saw the book made of gold foil, Uri felt like he couldn't breathe. He approached the glass cabinet, peering at the book displayed inside. But unfortunately, what he could see were only the words engraved on the gold plate, which was the book's name. "I checked it once; they don't let visitors see what's inside, so what should we do?" Anthea stood close to Uri, whispering to him. "If we want to read it, we must take it out," Uri replied softly, his eyes still on the book in the glass case. "I haven't figured out how to get it yet."

I demanded, eyeing the mysterious device untrustingly. Indigo didn’t try to hand it to me though, he merely unwound a string of leather from around it and flipped it open, revealing more and more pieces of parchment inside, hundreds of them, bound together and fanning up from the center between two thicker outer shells to make an arch. Captivated as all the parchment settled again, I watched in awe when Indigo pressed his hand down on it. “This,” he told me, “is called a book.” “A book,” I repeated reverently, easing cautiously closer. “Is it dangerous?”

As it slowly came above the opening, the stand clicked into place and two wings opened up on each side before turning the entire stand to white marbled stone and with a flashing light, a thick gold book appeared . “No matter how many times I see that, it never fails to amaze me” Heather whispered reverently. Jon raised his head and walked to the dias, his steps quietly echoing. When he approaches the stand, the book opens itself and the pages start to flicker, opening to the page he needed. After reading the passage, he visabilly shakes, his throat working hard to swallow from the lump now growing. “What? What is it?” Heather whispered. She gasped when she saw Jon raise his head and look at

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By the looks of the almost empty display, it’d turned out to be a good gamble. Anyway, a sarcastic remark was brewing but before I could speak, I heard the click-hiss of Bobby’s inhaler and saw him snag a copy. He stuck his inhaler into his front jeans pocket, opened the hideously yellow book and began flipping through it. I stood there, working my jaw, as if chewing a particularly troublesome piece of cud. Bobby eagerly flipped through the book’s pages, which I noticed were gilt a glittering golden-yellow along the edges. Finally I swallowed and managed, “Are you kidding me, Bobby? You’re not actually gonna . . . ”