Book The Yellow Wallpaper Novels & Stories

She was in the stacks again—third floor, sociology section, tucked between two shelves like she was trying to disappear. Wheelchair angled toward the window, good hand flipping pages in some psych textbook she wasn’t really reading. Hair loose today, falling over one shoulder in soft waves that caught the fluorescent light and made it look almost silver. Hoodie too big, sleeves rolled up on her good arm, cast resting on the armrest like a challenge. Beautiful in that broken-doll way that makes you want to either fix her or break her more.

She s​igned fo⁠r it automaticall‌y‍ an‍d carried⁠ it‌ insid‌e,​ her hands shaking⁠ as she to‍re‌ off the p‌aper​. Inside wa⁠s a b​ook, it​s le‍ather cover worn‍ soft with ag‍e and⁠ its pages‌ yellowed at the edges. May‍a‌ recognized it i⁠mmed⁠iately as the fantasy novel she had men⁠tioned to Adrian in New Y​ork, the one they had‌ both‌ loved as childre⁠n.

“I thought he moved on.” But Ash didn’t move on. He waited. And now he was here. Later that afternoon, August’s room was empty again. No photos. No trace of intrusion. The wall was clean, freshly painted, as if nothing had ever been there. Except for one item. On his bed: a hardcover book. Jane Eyre. Inside, underlined in red: “I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.”

The air was faintly scented with chalk, old books, and spectres of past essays. Morning sunlight streamed through high windows, light on long rectangles between the lines of hunched students over notebooks, laptop keys typing, pencils scratching. Fiona stood near the front of the room, dark curls contained, blouse taut at the waist, heels muffled on the wooden floor. She clutched a dog-eared copy of The Yellow Wallpaper against her palm, pages covered in scribbles in numerous colors over the years of academic battles. Her voice sliced through morning quiet, firm, crisp, yet intimate—like she was sharing a secret she wouldn't share.

The yellow was overwhelming, making my eyes water. Had she lost her mind? This woman drove up the fucking wall. Fuck! As I scanned the room, my eyes landed on a figure lying on the floor in the corner. Heaven was sprawled out, wearing devilishly short shorts that left little to the imagination. Her long, toned legs kicked lazily in the air as she read from a book, her mouth stuffed with Skittles. The candy's bright colors seemed to match the yellow of the room, creating a jarring, surreal effect.

Sometimes, I wonder if she’s the one I am feeling in this room. I don’t believe in ghosts or that shit. I grab a blue hardcover, with the name, ‘Herbs for healing sleeping sickness’. I flip the pages, leaning on the bookshelves, as the pages flip, a paper falls out. I grip it, the paper is nearly old, the edges almost torn off. The writing is legible.

I lower the wall in my mind and wait for another spirit to pass some remarks, but everything remains silent. To think about, those spirits have been silent for a while. This gives me a hint that something else is wrong too — which I don’t know just yet. Shaking my head, I drop the towel and wear the dress and go to sit down on the chair placed on the left corner of the room. With a snap of my fingers, the rules book appears in the air and then drops down on my lap. It has a brown leather cover, bland but interesting. I open the book and turn the pages. One rule is written on each page in golden cursive writing. The pages are yellowish.

So Proserpina moves on to the next row, then the next one, and the next one, on and on until she was literally kneeling like a child on the floor when she finally comes across a book third to the last on the bottom row in between a skinny book and leather bound one; the book was silver-gray, small and light in her hands and the cover seemed to have some sort of glossy material in it as it twinkled when she turned it here and there… ‘Kind of a child’s storybook,’ she noted. The book was almost as big as her palm and seemed to have pages as what one would expect from a novelette. She carefully opens it up to the first page–not wanting to have a repeat of another destroyed book because a destro

She felt like she was a kept woman! While being lost in her own thoughts, she didn't notice that Lisa pushed the book that was placed in the table towards her. "Speaking about this book, I've got this for you since you don't have anything to do anyways. It's a book about making pills. You should give it a try." Lisa said. Naomi looked at the book that was pushed towards her. The cover wasn't that ugly nor fancy as it looked quite ordinary. The cover had some words written on it which were "The First Steps of Becoming a Mage" which should be the book's title. The book was somehow thick.

Given that the game itself was boring if played only by four people, it became extra boring because they couldn’t make noise whenever they wanted. On the other side of the room, near the door where a two-meter long bookshelf was established, Yuri and Cylvia dragged their chairs near it and took the chance to do their past-time hobby without getting disturbed. Yuri piled up some books on top of her desk and read them. Meanwhile, beside her was Cylvia scribbling lines on the surface of her all-time favorite blue and white diary. There had been a lot of poems and short stories written inside, and to read it thoroughly with her permission was considerably a must-not-miss opportunity.