Book Paper Novels & Stories

The bubbles in his water glass have stopped rising. "Your sister," he says, "is very well situated." I do not know what that means. I know exactly what that means. The man reaches into his pocket and withdraws a folded sheet of paper, cream-colored, heavy stock, the kind of paper that costs more than the meal I ate on the train. He unfolds it once, twice, and lays it on the marble between us. The numbers are typed in a clean serif font, and the zeroes stretch across the page like a row of small open mouths.

Hah“ ”Pfft. Why is my wife being so cute?“ ”Shut up, it wouldn't get me at all“ ”Let's go eat before the food gets cold“ *screen zooms at the very last page of the bool* A book is not just a piece of paper. It is a whole new world. A different dimension. A teacher that would show you things and teach you. A friend that would comfort you and save you. A vehicle that would bring you to a far far away land without even moving from where you are. Just like a journey filled with thousands of different car. Going to various of places that is very far.

I just do not know if I am ready yet. “Let me open it for you. I can tell you what is inside. That way you can decide if you want to see it or not” Stefano says. It takes me a moment before curiosity gets the better of me and I agree. Stefano opens the small brown paper package and removes a black leather book. I recognise it immediately. My father practically slept with that book. Stefano holds up the book in the light. It has a lock mechanism with a small keypad that prevents him from opening it.

A name, actually. Breyona. As if that wasn’t harrowing enough, it gets worse. Inside the bubble envelope was a small stack of papers. It wasn’t very many, no more than five but the thick material made it bulkier. The moment my fingertips grazed the papers rough surface, I was struck upside the head with recognition. The book Giovanni had given me on my family, it had the same type of paper. Following my gut, I pulled the papers out of the envelope and ran my finger down the edge, feeling the frayed pieces from where they’d been torn from the book.

And right now, she’s showing me more than she probably realizes. Her bag slips onto the table, soft fabric bending under the weight, and that’s when I see it. Not a phone. Not a tablet. A book. The cover’s weathered, edges softened from too many hands, too many days stuffed into the same bag. She slides a thin strip of paper free and opens to her page without hesitation.

Let's keep it in the basement by myself. I walked to her room and searched for a big box and I found it beside the bathroom door. I opened the box and looked inside. There were a bunch of papers having sketches and scribblings. Okay. I think this is it. I looked for a cellophane tape and found it in the cabinet of her table. I taped the box on the above and lifted it. I thought it'll be light but it was heavy. I placed it on the floor. How could a bunch of papers be this heavy? I opened the tape and looked into the box to check what was inside. I took the paper out of the box and placed it beside me and found a lot of books under it. Does this mean 'don't judge a book by it's cover' ? I let

Here in the upstate sanctuary ink touched paper with a clear impact. Elena stood over the assembly table. She was checking the printed pages of a new book written by one of the collective's youngest members. The black ink looked good on the cream-colored paper. There were no hidden tracking devices in these pages. There were no data-mining cookies. It was a book built to last. Julian entered the print room. He carried a box of letters. He wore his work shirt with sleeves rolled up. His simple gold wedding band shone in the light. He put the box down. Looked over Elena's shoulder at the freshly printed page.

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he greeted with a bow. “Paul. What is it you wanted to show me?” “I’ve been running extensive tests on this book since you gave it to me,” he said, picking up the book. “I ran tests on the entire book and came up empty.” I frowned at him. “Then why am I here?” “Well, as I stated, I came up empty…the first time.” He flipped the book open to the pages that replaced the originals. “These pages are made from Sri Lanka Legume Trees.”

He pushed open the stone door and walked inside. The chamber behind the stone wall was relatively small, spanning only about a hundred square meters. Inside was a small cabinet with an old book. James picked up the book. It was thin but weighed about five thousand kilograms. The cover was completely blank. James gently touched the cover. It was hard to identify the material used for the paper, but the book was in good condition even after so many years. He flipped to the first page of the book. A few words were written on the first page. The words were very strange and were composed of countless lines. Each line seemed to be a Law of Heaven and was very mysterious.