Books I Read Journal Novels & Stories

he called back, his voice warm as sunlight. The sound of the door clicking shut was the last thing I heard before sleep reclaimed me, pulling me back into its embrace. *** I found myself rummaging through a stack of books that likely belonged to Jacob from his university years. None of them were fiction. These were all about life lessons and self-improvement. Titles like Rich Mindset and Atomic Habits caught my eye, their well-worn spines suggesting they had been thoroughly read. But one title stood out above the rest, stopping me cold:

I need to get reading on these bloody journals so I can get to know myself better, and get to know the woman who came before me better. Uhm perhaps instead of N*****x and chill I will do exactly that, read a couple of journals and eat and have coffee until I eventually fall asleep. Yeah, I think that is a good idea, just as I am about to get one of the journals the microwave beeps and I get distracted because my tummy decides at that moment to growl as well. I will get an Uber Eats I guess, what the heck do I order there are so many options.

Rearranging the books, I found a small brown book wedged behind them, but it didn’t have a title or seem to belong to the library. While putting the library books up, I took the unmarked book and opened the cover to see if something was inside to help me figure out where the book went. The cover had nothing, so I flipped the page and saw it was a journal. The handwriting looked familiar as if I had seen it before. Flipping the pages, I skimmed the contents and saw that it discussed microchips. It was also about changed wolves. I took the book to the loft to find out if it was related to the same thing I wanted to create.

And second which was closed. I don't know if it was my conscious decision but even after all the sirens that went off in my brain, I deafeaned myself to those rings as I walked in the direction of those books. My hand hesitantly reached out to touch the open book, feeling the rough texture of the leather cover under my fingertips. As I flipped through the pages, my heart started racing, my mind trying to process the words written on the pages. It was a journal. A journal filled with beautiful cursive handwriting. I filled to the last page of the journal as my hand traced over the writing longingly.

The bookshelf was just as tall as Andrew so he could easily access the books there. The bookshelf had all sorts of books, ranging from fictional novels to nonfictional novels, to educational novels and textbooks. Her eyes caught titles like; The Redwall series by Brian Jacques, Caddie Woodlawn by Carol Ryrie Brink, The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros and a lot more. Even the Encyclopedia was in his bookshelf. And there was also some novels on the basis of business and finance. The book the lad was currently reading was The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie.

Going to the movies with Liam this morning was such huge fun, I love Disney movies and doubt I’ll ever grow out of it. Idly, I scroll through TikTok then jump over to YouTube to catch up on some of my favorite book bloggers and see what they’ve been reading this month. A couple of books I haven’t read look good. Grabbing my journal and pen, I start to make notes so I don’t forget which ones I want to buy.

“I think so. But this is a lot. What do you think? Should we read through it?” “That should be your decision to make,” I shrugged. “It’s your father’s, you should know best.” “Fine.” She tossed aside the spell book and opened up the journal. “Let’s read this.” “By the end of this all, I will probably read more books for Killian’s sake than I would ever think of doing for the rest of my life.” I sighed dramatically and came to stand beside her again. “Stop whining, you could be at a battlefield right now, but you are here, so shut up.”

I ask as I spin, taking it all in. “No, so we will have our work cut out for us.” Fun. But I am glad to hear him say us. I’m not alone in this search. I walk forward and browse the books in front of me, and groan when I see no names on the spines. Pulling one out, it appears to be an old journal. Well, whatever, better get to it. I grab three and haul them off the shelf, not expecting the weight that drags down my arms as I bring them to the table.

Now that I’d mostly learned how to translate his crappy handwriting, I was able to slowly pick my way through it. The first page described him… Writing a book? My gaze jerked back to the spare room and then dipped back to the journal to keep reading. The next few pages were about his pack buddies and his family. He seemed close to them. Then his book was mentioned again. Insurrection. I dropped the journal again, and crossed the hallway yet another time, stopping in front of the bookshelf. My eyes scanned the many, many books, until… Insurrection. Bingo. I grabbed the paperback off the shelf, and my eyes scanned the cover. It had a snake and a skull and looked kind of epic, definitely someth

Besides the boredom, I was a snoopy woman and everyone should've known that by now. My eyes fall on the large map spread out on the desk and my interest in it increased. Without thinking, I reached out for it. It was a map of a pack- not his pack but another pack nearby. He probably wanted to destroy it just like he did to mine. I found it boring so I decided to look away and pick up the old, leatherbound book that seemed to be tearing apart from the inside. As I opened it, I realized, it was a journal- Raymond’s journal. I froze and then kept it aside, I couldn't read his journal or anyone's, that was a private. I wouldn't want someone to read mine if I ever wrote anything.