Books For Autumn Reading Novels & Stories

Alexander By the time we have returned to Castle Black, the autumn winds were in full swing. September had always been a temperamental month. Moving so quickly from summer to fall in the blink of an eye. The warmth of the sun was quickly disappearing, replaced with gusts that brought the leaves swirling from the skies, and littering the floor, blanketing them in a patchwork of colours. As we neared the turreted castle, the feeling of foreboding was beginning to settle in.

Yet that's the thing about growth, it is only when we compare with a sense of the months and years past that we see such amazing changes. Another Ontario autumn has come, the trees stand coated with so many colours. The brick path is strewn with acorns as if by divine artistic hand. The ducks waddle from acorn to acorn, gobbling at them, crushing them in their bills. The days are waning, the heat of summer making way for a new chill wind.

Gerey stood up - Jeyrin still concealed in the dark of the library desk, and went to a rack of books. ‘GEOGRAPHY AND FAIRYTALE SECTION’ spelled at the top of the shelf and as Gerey scanned from book to book, he remembered a few he'd read at school, ‘Knowing Wabrook's Water Brooks and Bodies’ by Whitaker Flarogue, ‘Sunset at Ingfalls’ by Simponie Gugh, ‘The best habitat for all - Ingfalls - Book One’ by Cuulambs Nicktra, but they were not what he searched for.

I looked around in amazement. "I'm sure you'll find what you're looking for here, and if you need anything, you will find me in the kitchen." I thanked her, waiting for her to leave before I made my way over to the books, running my hand along them, siming the names as I did. There were millions of books in here, more than any one person could ever read in a lifetime, as I walked along, being overwhelmed by it all. I felt something calling to me, drawing me to a book that was shoved down the bottom of one of the shelves. I picked it up, dusting it off. It was ancient and looked like it hadn't been touched in years. I ran my hand over it, feeling the book drawing me to it, flipping open the c

Her guardian angel certainly put forth extra effort for her. Although the anguish intensified, the moisture on her skin that was cooled by the cool air and the blood that covered her turtleneck made her feel even colder. Something approached her. She inhaled the aromas and listened intently to the sound of its scrambling. When she baked apple pies, prepared specialty soups and hot, spicy chili, and decorated with pumpkins, squash, and vibrant mums—colors that complemented her flaming red hair and green eyes—it was a cold, crisp autumn with a touch of wetness in the air. Autumn, her favorite season.

Autumn muttered as she walked into the dining room with her drawing book and color pencils in her hands, and then struggled to climb the chair beside her brother so that she could see what their mother was doing. "Be careful to not get your book wet, Autumn. You can paint on the reading desk instead," she cautioned her daughter, who had dropped the book that she had in her hand carelessly on the kitchen slab. "Okay mummy," Autumn answered her mother without looking up, still shading the diagrams that were in the book with the appropriate colors. That was when she suddenly remembered something.

The librarian, a wise old man with spectacles perched on his nose, had greeted them warmly and invited them to explore the dusty shelves filled with ancient tomes. As Scarlett's fingers grazed the spines of the books, a particular leather-bound volume caught her eye. Its title, "The Prophecy of the Shifting Stars," called to her with an inexplicable pull. She plucked it from the shelf and dusted off its cover, revealing faded golden letters etched into the leather. Curiosity burned within Scarlett. She opened the book and began to read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. The words flowed like poetry from her lips, resonating deeply within her soul.

The year 2014 Day first. It was the ninth month of the year. The autumn season. It is the season of inner calm and a kindly stoicism etched in memories of joy. The autumn comes as a gospel choir, harmonised in such a way that celebrates each hue and shows how they belong together. Autumn is alien. The season of bumper harvests and swaying hay is soon replaced by Hallowe’en and horror. It is a portal to a time of dread when winter’s suffocating skies throttle the land. At its most glorious, autumn is spectacular. The world is a-blaze in its fiery cloak of colours, from incandescent-red to lightning-gold. Then both leaf flame and field light burn bright one last time, ‘are fading into the dyin

he says smiling back at me, I asked him if he needed any help. "No, I'm just here to read, if you're not busy you're welcome to join me," he says inviting me to sit next to him in the reading area, there wasn't much of a crowd giving me a chance to sit down with him. "Let's go sit then," he says picking a story, it wasn't the same one he was reading as before, this was more like babies' stories I get my snacks from my bag and came back to sit down with him. At first, my adult self was wondering why he chose a Childers book but little me didn't care. I let him read the story with me right next to him. I was so entranced with the story until I felt something warm go down my princess area, I kn

Autumn had fully claimed the capital, draping the palace gardens in rich shades of amber, crimson, and gold. The air carried the crisp scent of ripening apples, falling leaves, and woodsmoke from the hearths that warmed the evenings. The city buzzed with the energy of the Harvest Festival — markets overflowing with fresh produce, lanterns strung between buildings, and the sound of laughter rising from every square.