Book Slow Novels & Stories

--- Then Mira noticed something. --- "Wait." --- Everyone looked up. --- "What?" --- She pointed to the windowsill. --- A book lay there. --- No one knew how it had gotten there. --- A minute ago, it hadn't been there. --- They were certain of that. --- Aren slowly stepped closer. --- The book was old. --- But not dusty. --- As if it had just been placed there. --- There was no title on the cover. --- Just a single word. --- Memories

Leather-bound books with worn spines and faded gold lettering. I forgot my anger for a moment.I reached toward one.Then stopped.I didn't want to give Jaxson the satisfaction of seeing how much this affected me.The butler noticed.“Would you like me to take them away?”My hand moved before I could stop it.“No.”He stepped back.I carefully picked up the smallest book.The leather was cracked from age.The pages were yellowed, but the binding was still strong.

Both were really awkward at each other at first but when they found out that both were reading the same book, they eventually got a comfortable to talk at each other. “So, you also read that book-” “Yeah, I got into it after a friend of mine recommended it to me.” “Isn’t it a great book.” “Yeah, I got hooked on it after reading the first chapter.” “bla-bla-bla” Both continued to talked to each other and enjoyed their conversation. “I was feeling an awkward atmosphere growing between our table so I was gonna try to start a conversation but when you brought out your book, I was just surprised to see a person reading it.” The girl said.

The lightest moment in a story that had contained almost no light at all. I noticed the book on his nightstand the following week. Not a pregnancy book. Not a business strategy guide. Not any of the texts I'd seen him read during our time together. A different kind of book. The title was something about understanding patterns and breaking cycles. The kind of book that therapists recommend to clients who are ready to examine the machinery that produced them.

******** ******** Updates are slow but I hope they are worth of waiting. Comment, share the book and follow me. With love Megha.

“Then why does your face look like that when you look at him?” Elara sighed. Not the dramatic kind. The tired, deep kind — the kind people sigh when they’re about to open a door they’ve kept locked for their personal reasons. She walked over to the tall shelf near the window and ran her fingers along the spines of dusty books before pulling one out. “I guess,” she said, turning back to me, “we’ll have to start from the basics.” She handed me the book. The cover was old, the edges worn. Gold lettering barely visible.

he answered, and this just made me even more curious to ask him more questions. “Even though you can order it, but then it would take days for it to get here and you need it right now, so you had to come here,” I answered, giving him an explanation, and he nodded in agreement, immediately locking in. “What’s the name of this book?” I asked, and he swallowed. “Just an old classic historical romance book; Rebellious Love by Maura Seger,” he answered, and I slowly nodded. “Okay then,” I said as I took slow steps away from him.

she scowls at me as I stretch feeling my body ache due to the weird posture it was in for heavens knows how long. Isn't it already obvious? I can't believe I have been dreaming about the thirtieth book when the old pamphlet in front of me that is wrinkled is the only thing I remember picking from the shelf when I entered inside the damn thing. I must have been tired after the whole crying. "What time is it?" I ask. "It's nine in the morning." Dhalia replies. "What the fuck!" I exclaim horribly. I have been inside here than I imagined.

“I'm sorry you have to go through this over and over again. I always think it will be the last time and then it happens again. I wish I wasn't so clumsy and...” “Clumsy?” He cut me off, straightening up again, “You're not clumsy, boy. You’re always careful and seek to avoid dangerous situations, but your work and your situation are sometimes like oil and water, Jacob. Don't call yourself clumsy again.” Silvia decided to enter at that moment with the bottle of pills before offering me two. “We're staying tonight,” She said in a tone that allowed no discussion. “Do you want me to tell you where your room is?” I asked amused as she sat down at the end of the bed.

she repeated, irritation in her voice. I shot her a look sharp, "It's a book, Grace. Not a bloody sword." "Yet, you’re reading it like a child who stole sweets and doesn’t want to get caught." "Better than you, who probably can’t even read this," I snapped, flipping the page. "It’s sylunthys, not wolf-lore. I wonder how you're going even help when there's a language barrier. You're the last person to ask for help from"