Book Rescued Novels & Stories

As she searched the catalog, she was thrilled to see her library had, on hand, editions of most of them Caitlin grabbed a cart and had dove into the stacks, looking up each book by its call number, and slowly adding them to her stack. Some of the books were harder to find than others, and she’d had to use a ladder and go to the top, dusty shelf, deeper in the stacks than she’d ever been. One book she found stuck between two books, and literally had to pry it out. Another book she couldn’t find anywhere—until she realized that it was on display in the front window, for the Occult Exhibit; she guiltily unlocked the glass, slid it back, reached in, and removed it, making a mental note to replac

"I have another gift for Vesta." "Another?" Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Isn't she… giving them away?" "Indeed, which only strengthens my resolve. This one, however, will be different." I approached a bookcase, running my fingers along the spines of countless leather-bound volumes. Finally, I pulled out a book with a worn cover and faded gold lettering: "My Mother's Garden." This book, filled with sketches and descriptions of Vesta’s own mother's beloved garden, was a cherished memory from her childhood. It held a sentimental value that went beyond monetary worth.

I swear that thing was taller than him if we made it stand. We had pizza for lunch and voted that the bookstore would be our last stop. Rosie found the newest addition to a series of books she was collecting, and I stumbled upon a book illustrated by Jessica Wright. “This is the lady we met this morning!” Rosie exclaimed when I showed her. “It’s so pretty,” she awed as she opened it. It was a big, old-fashioned storybook, and Rosie was studying a whole page drawing of a princess. “We should buy it too,” I said, and Rosie gave me a huge smile.

But after searching a lot she came to a place that was definitely made for her. If she had known there was a bookstore of that size there she would not have searched so much. And given her ability to restore memory books, as well as transcribe them to have more copies to sell. At first it was one or another book, but when the owner of the bookstore noticed the change that the demand gave in his store, the number of jobs increased. And soon Jade had so many errands that she definitely wouldn't have to worry about money for a long time.

Despite not having read anything since losing my job, it still saddened me to encounter discarded books. This house had thrown out hundreds of books, neatly sorted in cardboard boxes. For the first time since I started scavenging I felt the urge to rescue them (though I wasn’t planning on reading them), so I wanted to get out of there before I succumbed to the temptation. As I rounded the boxes a name jumped out from one of the covers, halting me in my tracks. Ray Bradbury. Above it: The Illustrated Man.

As she opened a drawer to retrieve a pen, her hand brushed against an old, dusty book tucked away in the corner—a relic from the past. Curiosity sparked, Jette pulled out the forgotten book, its weathered cover and faded pages bearing the weight of memories long tucked away. It was a journal, the pages filled with the handwritten entries of a younger Jette—a version of herself navigating the labyrinth of dreams, uncertainties, and the promise of a future intertwined with Drew.

She looks up and nods before hurrying over and we head towards my apartment. That book may be gone in the fire, but I had scanned pretty much most of it onto the computer to look through them with ease. I had also tried to restore some that were pretty damaged. Not sure why these idiots didn’t have all these books duplicated and saved. Who knows when we might need some information from them. “You’re onto something.” She states. I don’t reply. I can’t get overly confident until I am certain… -----

I had no idea she was holding that the whole time. The first Man recovered from his daze and stood up to face us. “I don’t want to fight you”, I called out, “and believe me you don’t want that either “ “Return what you stole.” one of the men boomed. They were probably referring to the book we found. “We do not wish to steal it”, Jane chimed in. She seemed very collected like she had negotiated for her life before. She brought out both books. “We have a replica of it, with different inscriptions. We just want to understand what it is”

I won’t try touching it again. Closing the box, I approached 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 heard a scraping sound, and I turned my head to see Robert picking up a stack of small portraits from one of the iron boxes in the corner.

The butler walked over and opened it. I expected a weapon.Maybe another phone.Instead, I saw tools.Small brushes.Soft clothes.Magnifying glasses.Thin blades.Gloves.Restoration papers.My breath caught.I stepped closer.“What are those?”“Archival restoration equipment.”I looked at him.“Why would Jaxson send me this?”“I wasn't told, ma'am.”He opened another section of the case.My eyes widened.There were books.Old ones.Very old ones.Leather-bound books with worn spines and faded gold lettering.