Books I Read Journal Novels & Stories

I said, grinning from teeth to teeth like a child. We walked into the library. It looked like it had been a while, since it was in use. We went through several sections which included, finance, self-improvement, ethics, business amongst all. I caught a glimpse of a book I had been wanting to read, “Atomic Habits” by James Clear. I picked it immediately, and started going through it. After a while, I noticed I wasn't hearing any sound from the cook. I looked around and found her wiping tears off her eyes with the hem of her apron.

The books on the shelf were neatly arranged but the frayed edges and the little tears on the bottom of most of the books gave out that they’d been read a couple times. Adrian didn't particularly strike me as someone who would love to read but I guess you can't always judge a person by their outward appearance. I traced my fingers along the spines, the titles ranging widely from classic literature, to mindset guides then to business strategy books. One title in particular caught my eye and I pulled it out : Good to Great by Jim Collins. I flipped through the pages not so sure of what I was looking for, because I wasn't interested in reading the book at the time, but it was an appropriate dist

But sometimes, late at night, when the city’s noises quieted, I could almost hear whispers of that past reaching for me. --- One Saturday morning, I decided to visit the antique bookstore again. I hoped to find more stories that could anchor me — stories that might explain this strange feeling that I was being watched. The bell tinkled as I stepped inside, and the elderly owner looked up with a knowing smile. “Back so soon?” he asked. “I guess I’m searching,” I admitted. He nodded and handed me a small leather-bound journal. “This came in today. A diary from a woman who wrote about losing herself — and finding truth in the shadows.”

I don’t try touching it again. Closing the box, I approach the shelves. I take out the book closest to me. Brushing off the dust, I realize it’s a strategy book, written in delicate penmanship. The paper is fragile, but the tome is bound with great care. The other side of the shelf seems to have hard-bound journals. It’s like an entire couple’s life secured in one small room. I hear a scraping sound, and I turn my head to see Robert picking up a stack of small portraits from one of the iron boxes in the corner.

In the Meath library, Kaida closed the last journal and stared at it on the table. All week she'd been reading through the passages, and it had been harder than she'd anticipated. She'd attempted to look at them with a professional, objective eye, tried to distance herself from the human element and view them as research, but that was impossible.

Books about herbs, waters, potions, magic and all sorts of healing techniques, along with history books were my favorite reads and luckily for me this dusty, abandoned library was chock full of em. I slide a finger over the spine of the book I was reading currently, suddenly an image of Zander sliding his finger up and down my spine yesterday night suddenly invaded my mind. I groan and drag the book out it's position on the shelf and walk over to the small chair and desk set up by the window to read. And yet even as I attempt to absorb the meaningful words of information my mind is invaded once again by a certain green eyed Prince.

It was soothing and calming, I could feel my heart aches getting relieved. Maybe it was just meant to happen, I don’t have a chance of having a loving and sweet relationship. All I see is disappointment and letting down. It’s a great time for me to pour my attention and focus more on my stories and interesting novels. Being a Bibliophile was the best thing I engaged myself into. I read at least 2 books each day, just me and my interesting novels between the walls of my room. But since I made friend with the new girl, Gigi I haven’t been reading like usual. She made my memorable company.

But then, why were all her belongings still here? She stepped toward the shelves and ran an index finger horizontally across the spine of each book, noting the authors. Stephen King. Paul Tremblay. Lauren Beukes. All horror, violence, and morbid. Certainly not what Jade preferred to read. The magazines held a different texture, they were smooth but thinner, and her fingertip snagged every crevice. She plucked a random one out and examined the cover. Vogue. Flipping through the magazine, she noted several of the corners were folded as a bookmark. She glanced over the articles on those pages: Interviews with influential people, food and drink reviews, and beauty products.

The Book of Curse, with its foreboding aura, seemed to cast a spectral presence in the recesses of her mind. The old journal, now placed on the nightstand, carried the weight of its uncanny resemblance to the haunting images from her nightmares. Jette closed her eyes, hoping that sleep would offer respite from the disquieting thoughts that lingered. As the night unfolded, the boundary between dreams and reality blurred, and the Book of Echoes became a silent witness to the mysterious interplay between past, present, and the uncharted realms of the subconscious—a harbinger of a narrative that transcended the tangible pages of a journal and ventured into the intangible realms of the unknown.

And for ten months, I got nothing. Abruptly, I stood, accidentally knocking the journal off the bed. When I kneeled to pick it up, it had fanned open, and I realized it wasn't an empty book meant for me to fill. My knees were pressed into the hard floor, and I sat back on my heels as I flipped through the pages. Every page, from top to bottom, was lined in Jude's best handwriting. Tears prevented me from stalling on any one paragraph long enough to read it.