Books That Make You Think. Novels & Stories

Damn, Freckles. The first book I pulled out was called “Images You Should Not Masturbate To”. I snorted, flipping through a couple of pages and shaking my head. That sarcastic streak of hers ran deep. I grabbed another, the title catching my eye: “How to Traumatize Your Children: 7 Proven Methods to Help You Screw Up Your Kids Deliberately and with Skill.” I let out a short laugh, one that came from somewhere I’d almost forgotten existed. Then there were the others—Fancy Coffins to Make Yourself, Do-It-Yourself Coffins for Pets and People, and, for good measure, How to Raise Your IQ by Eating Gifted Children. I shook my head, glancing back at her still sleeping form.

Hayden thought. END OF BOOK 1

I couldn't stop thinking about him. Not in the least. In just a few days, he was able to make me think about him. But not overly. I've read books where the two lovers see something and they immediately think about the other. I'm not like that. I just thought of him when he came to mind. Like when you think of a food you want to eat. Or how you long for a season you're not in. Something like that.

I hope you enjoy figuring out how the books connect. . .

Either beneath the desk or in a drawer. Again nothing. It must be somewhere. I highly doubt he left it at the old place. If you are keeping something like that, I am sure you would want to always keep it on you. I looked over at the bookshelf and thought of the idea that maybe one of the books were a trigger for a door. But that only happens in movies, right? F*ck it. We are going to think like movie characters today. I went over to the shelf and began pulling out books. Unfortunately, I did not think before I acted, thus, I did not think about the mess and extra work I would be giving myself if I pulled the books out and dropped them on the floor.

"Is that a bad thing?" "Of course, it's not. I actually like those people who love to read books. Their minds... I like the depth of their way of thinking. Complex but full of wisdom, and they know to view things in different angles or perspective. In my many years of existing, I have only met some people with that mind depth. Most of them are writers and bookworms." "I also think that way," I said. It really feels good to have someone who has the same perspective as yours. You know, talking about something is different from talking about something that concerns you in a way that both of you have the same way of viewing the topic.

I thought of burning the book for it I should burn it, I wouldn't be troubling myself any longer and the black Cults won't be able to come to me anymore. I also thought that there would be penalty in doing that, for the book does not belong to me, it from my school library. Instead of burning it, I would rather return the book. But returning the book will not be good for me as I will continue to think about reading the book in as much I know the book still lives. I think and connected to the book. The connection makes me not to be able to do without reading it. Wait a minute, am I connected to the book or the what is inside the book. What is wrong with me? I shouted out speaking to myself.

"That’s more like it." But even as we sat there, already thinking of the next move, one thing stayed lodged in my head. We didn’t know who it was. We didn’t know what they wanted. And worst of all? We didn’t know when they’d strike next. The final bell rang, a loud, echoing chime that signaled the end of another school day. I shut my book with a quiet thud, letting the weight of it rest in my hand for a moment. My fingers traced the edges of the worn pages—The Lucifer Effect, a twisted psychological study on how power and circumstance could turn ordinary people into monsters. Fitting. I had always been drawn to books like this, not just because they were interesting but because they confirme

He had been thinking about the library. The library and the covered approach and the stair and the room at the top and the question of what the building believed about the people who entered it. He had been thinking about it in the washing-up way — the background processing that used the hands-occupied time to do the work that the sit-at-the-desk thinking sometimes couldn't, the way the answers arrived in the shower or on the bus or at the kitchen sink when the conscious mind had released its grip on the problem. He had been thinking about the library and he had been thinking about belief.

I felt heat start to pool low and a blush start to crawl up my neck. "About his ability to make himself everyone's problem." "Well, that tracks. At least from the little bit I've known him." She leaned closer to Rowan's section and started reading the titles off like she was browsing a bookstore. The books were a chaotic mix, some genuinely useful, others questionably so, but all jammed together in no particular order. She pointed to the first spine, reading it outloud, her voice dripping with judgement. "How to Win and Argument Without Throwing a Punch."