Novelas y relatos de Book Surrounded By Idiots

Turning the cover for me to see he said, “So this is your favorite book, huh?” Wondering what had him looking so sly I focused my eyes on the cover and I immediately felt a rush of heat flare through my body. The cover had a picture of the naked anatomy of a man and woman embracing each other sensually and the title read, ‘100 ways to spice up your life.' “If this is what you were here searching for in the library then I don’t think I have any problem,” he laughed patronizingly, and flicking through the pages he stopped at one and reading the words on it he continued, “Try being intimate in random or unfamiliar places-”

Because he doesn't want to face up to who he really is. He chuckled, the sound raspy and hoarse. 'Let me tell you something about our Ethan. He might be a clever lad – too fucking clever sometimes, if you ask me – but when it comes to Lilith's book, he's a damn fool. Fancy thinking hiding it away and spending years festering in some stinking pit in Islington could stop it all? All that boy's done is delay the inevitable.'

The soft groan of wood rang out in the quiet bookstore as Lena turned over the last sign on the door: **CLOSED**. Outside, the city drew a breath, illuminated by amber streetlights and the quiet rumble of passing cars. Within, the world held its breath. Warm. Intimate. Holy.

Then, a rasping voice, laced with a hint of madness, emerged from the darkness beneath the hood. "I… I was a scholar," it croaked, "driven by a thirst for knowledge forbidden. Now, I am… trapped, consumed by the whispers." A wave of empathy washed over Maya, the tracker known for her keen senses and compassionate nature. "We can help you," she offered cautiously, "but you have to let go of the book." The figure clutched the book tighter, its knuckles turning white. "The power… it promises freedom," it rasped, the whispers intertwining with its words. "Freedom from pain, from fear… from everything."

They drag the bulky, strange-looking books off her shelf, and I watch the youngest guard in the unit wipe his hand on his pants after touching them, hoping nobody notices. And nothing suspicious shows up. That’s what starts turning the screw in me. Because every single object in this room raises its hand and explains itself. The letters are letters. The jewellery is jewellery. The books are strange, and strange is not a crime, and everyone under this roof has known for forty years exactly what those books are and whose they were. Ida’s. The peculiar old woman who came back off her long roads with peculiar old cargo and gave the best of it to the granddaughter who worshipped her.

“If he pulls the trigger, the bullet will rip right through you and lodge itself into me. So it really doesn’t matter.” I stared speechlessly at her for a minute before shaking my head and refocusing on the carpet beneath my hands and knees. The library had rows and rows of towering bookshelves, and I mentally registered the ones that could be used as a shield. God, please don’t let us die surrounded by dusty old books, I prayed silently.

Ghost growls. I grit my teeth, shoving him back. I had done this to myself anyway, I had followed them to Adrian’s house to assure myself he won’t touch her, I had stood on her balcony like a fool. A damn obsessed fool who could not stay away. Maybe she is right to think I am a psychopath. Enough is enough. It ends now. The door creaks open, and Madam Lisa steps inside with a big stack of thick books that look like they belong in a museum. The covers are dark, cracked with age.

The other two idiots hadn't passed me anything yet, so I am rushing some books before the two idiots passed theirs. I open our shared drive and open the folder where all the books are lined up to be evaluated and after I open it. My eyes widen. What a fucking day. They added another hundred on the list for me to review! My head is going to burst by just looking at it. I take a deep sigh then look at my food, "Let me eat for now."

I quickly head out to the next shelf. I don’t know how much time has passed, but I feel exhausted. Drake plops into one of the armchairs before the fireplace, yawning. “I covered thirty shelves, and there’s no book on celestial wolves. This is not a library. It's a book town!” He rests his chin on his arm. “It's so huge that I might find aliens hiding somewhere.” “Stop with the excuses. You are just incapable, that’s all,” Dory says while biting her thumbnail, her eyes trained on the book she’s holding.

My lip curled as I fought back the annoyance threatening to rise. “Sticking gum on the wall? You know what they say about hygiene in my space, right?” “‘My’ space? You feel like you own this cell, don’t you, genius?” That’s it. With a smooth jump from the top bunk, I landed on my feet—one hand gripping the middle page of Leviathan by Hobbes, the other clenched into a fist. “Built like a tank but runs on toddler logic. For someone who’s been in and out of prison, you’d think you’d have at least a basic culture of cleanliness.”