Books Like A Flicker In The Dark Novels & Stories

"Time of Darkness, excellent choice." She had a calm voice say from behind her and she almost jumped in her skin. She should have been used to this by now. They moved really quickly and their steps were usually silent. The intruder was right in front of her in an instant. Delice. Something twinkled in her eyes as her they roamed the book cover. "They were dark times indeed." Zezi looked at the cover, it was just a black hardcover with 'Time of Darkness' written in a large zig-zag red font.

“No doubt.” “What about those two small FedEx boxes?” “Most recent novels from Samhain Horror.” “Awesome. Those books I bought at the Webb County Library sale last week?” “Sorted into general and mystery fiction. Struck the mother lode with all those Mary Higgins Clark novels.” “We cater to all tastes, miss. Unless you like Twilight, 50 Shades of Gray or James Patterson. Folks want drivel, they can drive to Utica.” “Hey. I actually liked Twilight. It wasn’t all bad.”

“IT’S JUST I HAD a different book in mind when ink spilled on this one, plus what’s left to do in a finished book?” They, of course, ignored me Completely probably deciding if I would not explain, they were just going to proceed. One of the three waved their hand above the inky darkness we were standing on, and instantly a book on a pedestal was in front of them on the floor. It showed off my title, ‘1001 Dark Tales’. I instantly held my breath, hoping they didn’t realize what that meant. But if they had, they said nothing. Instead, they just started flipping through the pages of the book, looking for which store to choose.

I said, and Rick nodded as he walked to the center of the room and dropped into a chair. My fingers glide along the books as I read their titles. I pull one out, glance at the first few pages, and then slip it back into its place before continuing. “Hmmm,” I hummed as I squatted to see the books at the bottom. My fingers glide along the books, and my heart stops when I read one of the titles, “How to Reject a Mate and the Consequences that Follow.” Slowly, I pulled the book from its slot and flipped through a few pages.

Instead, he replied with actual books I’ve read before in my first life that he firmly hated. “‘Darkness Within’ is my first recommendation. Absolutely amazing. ‘Death, are you real?’ is also good, as well as ‘The Next Morning’. Those three are my best picks.” I blinked several times, visibly surprised. Earlier events completely shoved to the side as this new discovery of Cassius Silverton reading thriller books had me utterly nonplussed.

FEBRUARY, 23, 2018. DARK MOON PACK. (ORLA'S POV) I hissed for the third time in a row, flipping the book I was reading on the bed. It had begun as a mere foreboding, but as time crawled by, I couldn't help but feel that heavy weight on my chest. It was so thick that I felt I could touch it. That feeling. Something was about to happen, yet I couldn't place what it was.

"Fine, stalker. Let's play this game," I muttered into the empty room. Many people would freak out at getting such messages, but definitely not me. Nightshade was ignoring me, Levi was getting meaner as the day went by, and I was just on my own. I wrapped my hand around my cock through the fabric, stroking slowly, rubbing the head of my cock, already feeling the pre-cum leak. I was already harder than usual. I let the flashback of that night with nightshade replay in the back of my head.

The warmth from the fire didn't really ease the uneasy feeling growing inside me. Taking a deep breath, I opened the book. Each page turn felt like stepping back into a past I wanted to forget. The flames continued to dance, casting a flickering light that seemed to play along with the emotions swirling within me. I turned another page, the words becoming guides through a landscape of recovery I wasn't sure I was ready to navigate. Memories, like shadows, crept in as the fire crackled. Each sentence seemed to awaken echoes of my own experiences. It was as if the library held its breath, waiting for me to absorb the weight of those stories and somehow find my own path within them.

But his eyes always flick to the satchel at my side, then away again. They think I’m grieving. Mourning. Fragile. They’re half right. At night, when the fires burn low and the camp quiets to snores and the occasional cough of the wounded, I open the tome. Not by lantern light—too risky, too bright. I wait until the last torch gutters out, until the only glow is the faint violet shimmer that clings to my own fingertips now, like foxfire on a grave. The pages drink that light and give it back brighter, clearer. The script seems to move when I stare too long, letters curling like smoke before settling into meaning.

It was scorching like a flame and if auras could be tasted, hers would definitely be bitter. I shuddered, walking over to the first aisle to check it out. The first book that caught my attention was Blood, Pawns and Obsession. It was a dark romance by Rylie Martin. I had one of my projects on hold because I wanted to read this book and get into the head of the psychotic male lead, so I would understand him better and be able to execute my plotline to my taste. The grin on my face unconsciously widened, and I brought the book to my nose, sniffing it in.