Book Reading Journals Novels & Stories

Instead, she shifted gears, asking, "What were you reading?" I snapped my fingers, and my journal reappeared in my hand. It was a treasured possession, filled with entries spanning the past 100 years. I had amassed a collection of these journals, each one a testament to my love of recording every detail of my life. I wrote about experiences, adventures, thoughts, plans, and ideas - nothing was left unrecorded.

In the Meath library, Kaida closed the last journal and stared at it on the table. All week she'd been reading through the passages, and it had been harder than she'd anticipated. She'd attempted to look at them with a professional, objective eye, tried to distance herself from the human element and view them as research, but that was impossible.

Kennedy POV. The weather was bad, but I needed to get that new book, it's Robert birthday gift, who'd knew a grown up man would kill for the newest werewolf love book. I got into my car, drove carefully toward the local book store, they had the new book reserved for me. It was supposed to one quick drive, until I walked into the library. A girl was sitting on a bean bag, her blond hair was covering her eyes with overgrown bangs, she tried to huff them away from her face but to no use. She looked young, maybe she's just here with her parents, looking down at the book she had in her hands it was a kids story. Does she read for the local kids? Or is it just for her?

"Industry-specific stuff is usually better in journal form than book form. Too much gets lost in the translation to general audience." He was quiet for a moment. "You read business journals." "Sometimes." I took a careful sip of wine. "I have a lot of free time." The sentence landed the way I'd intended it to—gently, without accusation, just the plain fact of it. A woman with a lot of free time fills it with something. I had filled mine with research and planning and the construction of a revenge operation. Adriana Chen had filled hers with reading. Both of these things were true.

I don’t try touching it again. Closing the box, I approach the shelves. I take out the book closest to me. Brushing off the dust, I realize it’s a strategy book, written in delicate penmanship. The paper is fragile, but the tome is bound with great care. The other side of the shelf seems to have hard-bound journals. It’s like an entire couple’s life secured in one small room. I hear a scraping sound, and I turn my head to see Robert picking up a stack of small portraits from one of the iron boxes in the corner.

“I think so. But this is a lot. What do you think? Should we read through it?” “That should be your decision to make,” I shrugged. “It’s your father’s, you should know best.” “Fine.” She tossed aside the spell book and opened up the journal. “Let’s read this.” “By the end of this all, I will probably read more books for Killian’s sake than I would ever think of doing for the rest of my life.” I sighed dramatically and came to stand beside her again. “Stop whining, you could be at a battlefield right now, but you are here, so shut up.”

Jaden I read through the first journal, careful not to tear any of the pages. There wasn’t much to find to begin with, as there was nothing about the moonstone pack or Claxton. Night had come, and the fire crackled in the lounge as they sat on the floor, tearing through the pages. The smell of smoke wafted through the air, mingling with the musty scent of old books. We tore through the journal’s contents like wild animals ripping apart their prey, desperate for any scrap of knowledge that could aid us in our mission.

I announced, injecting a note of reassurance into the room. Trevor, sensing a lull in the urgency, reached into his pocket and pulled out a worn journal. He gestured towards me, saying, "Since we have a bit of time, my father wanted you to read this book. He said it's better you know the things that were written in it." Curiosity piqued, I took the journal from Trevor's outstretched hand. The weight of the worn pages hinted at the significance of its contents. As I opened it, the musty scent of aged paper wafted into the air, adding a layer of authenticity to the moment.

It’s heavier than I expect. When I open it, my heart nearly stops. Inside are scraps of paper, folded notes, and a journal with a worn black cover. The sight of it alone brings tears to my eyes. Jaden’s handwriting covers the pages, messy, uneven, sometimes smudged as if from tears. I press my palm against the book, my throat tightening. I whisper into the stillness, “Oh, Jaden…” I sit on the edge of his bed and open the journal. The words hit me like waves. Some pages are filled with anger, sharp strokes of the pen carving out his frustration.

“You have to do yours as well…" “I know.” He said sharply. “So, what is it that you have?” “You said you wanted the weaknesses of the predator, right?” I tried to build suspense as I walked slowly around the room. But Kieran was not having any of it before he snapped at me. “Go straight to the point!” “Fine!” I raised my hand in a surrender. “I've got two journals for you for now.” “Journal?” His expression morphed into that of surprise, then shock, and then further confusion. “What's that? What do you mean by that? Is this some kind of joke to you, or something?”