Book Object Show Novels & Stories

Speckles of dust span through the light, floating upwards and spinning slowly as they rose. “What’s this old book going to tell us?” Ryna asked, sliding one hand onto her hip. Her slim, blonde eyebrows raised slightly, and I sighed. “Let me show you,” I said. I laid it out on the desk, and flipped through the old, thin pages until I found the one with the folded-down corner. I pushed the corner up, and swivelled the book around to show the small crowd of people surrounding me. Luna Carla was at the front, seeming particularly intrigued by what the nondescript book she’d given me had to offer. I just hoped that my analysis of the old folk tale had been correct.

she whispered, but the words were swallowed by the air around her. Then she saw it—a large, old book in front of her, resting on a pedestal. It was glowing faintly, its pages turning on their own as if guided by an unseen hand. There was a strange swan-like symbol in the center of the book, surrounded by a circle of light. The brightness almost hurt her eyes, but she couldn’t look away.

I tell her meaning every single ounce of every syllable. “I’ve missed you – Hey what is this?” She halts midsentence and points to a book on the top shelf a few inches from where I’m perched. “This?” I say pulling a thick black book out from the shelf. “Yeah, let me see it.” She says and I hand it down to her and jump down myself to stand next to her. The book is plain with no title or markings. When Lamia opens it the pages are also blank. “That’s strange,” I say flipping another page in her hands.

The book shows the reader how to stand inside what the reader already has. Ernest wrote in the journal: The reader in Japan. Forty years in the ground. The morning is deeper than it was. Don said: the description is visible. The recognition made her morning deeper. The argument worked. The morning was already deep. The book showed her how to stand inside it. The description is visible. The recognition is the proof. He wrote: This is what the fourth book does. It does not teach. It does not instruct. It shows. The showing is the argument. The recognition is the evidence. The deeper morning is the proof. The argument works when the reader recognizes what the reader already has.

Feel welcomed to check out my other book. Much love❤

Jacob laughed. “I’ll kick your ass too!” I said as I glared at him. “Kris! We have one more surprise for you.” Penny yelled from behind my front desk. “What?” I looked confused. She walked out carrying a massive book. I recognized what it was right away. It’s the type of book that you use for a portfolio. “You got me a new book?” “Kinda.” Penny showed me the cover. It had a Black Moon with two wolves howling. The leather was fresh as I could smell it. Alec took the cover and opened it for me.

Then he walked ahead and began searching through the shelves of books and running his hands through the aligned books. I stood a few feet by him, transfixed by his being as he pulled out a book with his index finger, his long fingers ran through the front page of the book and I saw him inhale before he flipped it open and began to search through its content. I knew had to stop gawking like a fan girl so, instead I took a step back and looked at some of the artifacts that were on display. A baby wolf was among them, a preserved one, it looked like it had been caught and dried so bad that it died, but i could tell that it was sculpted or bought by someone who was really good with hands. A wolf

A photo was displayed on the top of the shelf. Carlene’s expression appeared extremely sorrowful. She stopped midway into the study room and took a deep breath. Then, she stretched out a hand to the bookshelf and a square hole suddenly appeared on the wall as if she had just pulled some sort of mechanism. Inside the hole sat a book. It was a wordless book—not a single word written in it. However, Carlene rifled through it gently as if she could read it. Soon after, she stopped at a page and brought over a glass of water that she splashed onto the page. Two names slowly appeared on the page after it was wet.

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I find it strange that there are no notes or marked pages. I pick up the second book and am surprised that there are notes, but not in my hand. The handwriting is that of a man and seems old. Curiously, I follow the directions for the hand motions and see a pink smoke illuminating from my hand. Concentrating on a medical terminology book on a shelf, I call it to me, then stop it before it reaches me. “Page 75,” the book opens to the page, and I hear the words in my head. “Stop,” I say, then, “Page 283.” The pages turn, and then I hear the words again. “Stop, go back.” The book goes back to its place on the shelf. My attention then goes back to the spell book. Everything is handwritten and it