Book Still Breathing Novels & Stories

As though fabric could fix what time and illness had taken. Her palm lingered just above his ribs, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. Unsteady. Shallow. Each inhale a question his body struggled to answer. Each exhale a small surrender. The fire snapped behind her, logs shifting with a sound like breaking bones. Orange light danced across the walls in a pantomime of vitality. Beyond the windows, the storm whispered its sympathy—wind sighing through stone gaps, snow tapping against glass like fingernails, persistent and patient.

Liora, her gaze fixed on the glowing book, whispered, "It's like it's calling to us, urging us to take a leap of faith." The room was thick with tension, the weight of history, and the unknown future pressing down on them. The decision they made now could change the course of their world forever. Suddenly, the room darkened, and the candles that lined the chamber began to flicker erratically. The glow from the book intensified, and it slowly began to levitate, causing everyone to take a step back in awe and apprehension. "It's alive!" Orion gasped. Liora's eyes widened, her fingers reaching out to the book, but she paused, hesitating. "No, it's not alive. It's reacting to something... or som

To try to exist again. I breathe. I finally breathe. ---

They peeled off her body and floated into the air like glowing smoke. I stared ahead at the fireplace where she had been staying and the book was there, fettered to the tree. The chains surrounding it wriggled and snapped before it clattered to the ground. I marched toward the book, my heart slamming hard as I walked toward it. I bent but my fingers trembled a few feet away from it, if she wasn't truly dead and I held the book, I would disintegrate. I angled my head toward her corpse again, she remained unmoving. I exhaled deeply and grabbed the book, closing my eyes firmly and waiting for the pain to course through my frame. There was no pain, there was nothing. My eyes snapped open and I s

While I was becoming red. When he was very close to me, he...walked past me. He looked at me at last and then showed me his back. That was when happened something I was scared of. He ignored me, like I wasn’t standing there at all. And as I said, it was like a stab. I felt like there was a hole in my back and the knife was piercing my heart as well. I stopped breathing and felt a drop of salty water coming out of my eye, going all the way down my cheek and then dripping on my hand. It was automatically. I didn’t move a muscle at all. But the tear knew its way.

' My eyes move down reading the information… "WAIT!… He's only empowering Horror Writers?" "WHY?…" My eyes move, following my fingers as they move on the screen. Tapping my legs on the ground and biting my finger nails, I scan round my room until it darts down, looking at my reading table. There lays it 'My ticket to Cameron Black!' The poor innocent body warmer lies on the table with Its bulky, padded, black gilet resting on the white surface of my writing table. His umbrella rests against my wall.

Division 24 The man looked confused. "The deaths? It has been peaceful in this area." Beatrice frowned. "How so." She mumbled to see a figure leave the church through the other door close to a burner. "Ha! Something is burning." She said, and the father turned to have his eyes widened. They both walked to the pulpit of the church and behold a book was on the burner while the fiery fire burned. Father Jude had gone to bring water to quench the fire and when the fire that had been burning was quenched, Beatrice squinted her eyes to see that three of the books in the burner had burnt to ashes but one had not burned..not a single scratch on its body.

Zoe stared at the book, her fingers hovering over its worn cover, tracing the cracks in the leather and the faint symbols etched into its spine. It felt… alive. Not in a way she could explain, but there was something ancient about it—something that pulsed beneath the surface, waiting to be uncovered. The Book of Life, her heart raced, every answer she had been searching for… could be inside.

“Doubt keeps you alive.” He reached for a book from the nearest shelf and flipped it open. The pages were blank. “Do you know why my library has no dust?” I shook my head. “Because the books breathe,” he said. “They exhale what others forget.” He offered the book to me. The pages shifted—faint outlines forming, fading, forming again. Names, dates, a line of ink that moved like a pulse: Evelyn Blackthorne arrived under a waning moon. I slammed it shut. “You’re writing my story.”