Books That Mess With Your Mind Novels & Stories

The logical part of my brain, the part that liked neatly restored paintings and clean brushes and answers, was having a very bad month. The occult section was tucked in the farthest corner, behind a dusty pillar and next to a broken radiator that hissed like a snake. The books looked untouched, mostly oversized hardcovers with cracked spines and spooky fonts. I traced my fingers over them, unsure what I was looking for until something sharp pricked my index finger. I jerked back, hissing. One of the books had a tiny iron spike sticking from its spine, like it didn’t want to be opened. I stared at the title.

“Better than that club, at least.” “Exactly.” April disappeared into the back room, returning with a stack of books. She plopped them in front of me. “Here. Keep your hands busy, maybe your brain will stop overloading.” I rolled my eyes but pulled the stack closer. “My brain has stopped overloading, work master.” “Motivator,” she corrected with a grin.

he noted, tilting one up. "Gifts from people who clearly don't know me. The man is far too problematic for my taste." I shrugged. "But I have a rule against throwing away books." He studied the shelves a moment longer, taking in the beautiful, chaotic mess of my mind. "This is..." A low laugh, shaking his head. "To anyone else, this must look completely random." "Guilty." "It's so you, though," he said softly, sliding the biography back like it was made of glass. "Makes no sense to the world until you shed some light on it."

"Mr. Jackson, what are you afraid of? That fragrance only causes disfigurement after long-term heavy use and intimate contact. As long as you were never intimate with her, it will heal on its own after a while." Matt grew even more terrified and gasped silently. "No, Wendy! I made a mistake. My mind was clouded for that moment! You can't abandon me! Wendy!" I walked out of the ward as he roared behind me. Aurora was in the neighboring room. When I covered my mouth and nose and pushed open the door, I could see pus was still seeping through her bandages.

I walk around the stacks. There are a ton of witchy looking books and Finn and Randy start going through those, while everyone else starts at different places around the room. I think it’s more shock than anything as I make no move to touch a single thing in here. It all looks like it’s exactly where it’s supposed to be and chaotic minds organization. There are things here that have to be centuries old.

But that was okay, not until Danny died. Because of me. That’s what they say. Instead of reminiscing those painful memories, I decided to sleep my exhaustion away. It didn’t take me minutes to fall asleep. “You’re the reason why all of these things happened!” “You are truly bad luck!” “You don’t deserve to live!” “You’re a monster!” “She died because of you!” I woke up sweating all over and breathing heavily. Where does that came from? Why am I hearing voices? Are they real? Or it’s just a dream?

The lightest moment in a story that had contained almost no light at all. I noticed the book on his nightstand the following week. Not a pregnancy book. Not a business strategy guide. Not any of the texts I'd seen him read during our time together. A different kind of book. The title was something about understanding patterns and breaking cycles. The kind of book that therapists recommend to clients who are ready to examine the machinery that produced them.

That counts for something, right? My name is Annalise McDermott. And for the record, I am a nerd. A hopeless romantic. A person who believes in love even when it clearly hates me back. This is my playbook, a chronicle of terrible timing, questionable decisions, and the kind of love that shows up when you least expect it, usually right after you've sworn you’re never falling in love again. So here is a little friendly advice: do not follow my advice. At least not until the very end.

Nevan was made smarter, agile, authoritative and wise. The two of them began to launch the contents of the mind. A way out with the appearance of the cunning enemy. *** The room is not too cramped. A hand that flipped through a unique book that was slightly dusty. The dark color of the book looks faded by the title. His hands were not smooth, nor did they look dull. But, the eyes are starting to look confusing. “What a strange history book,” Felix muttered glancing around the body of the book.

"You’re not done. Now sort the books by how interesting the titles sound." I spun around. "You’re kidding, right?" He gave a smug grin. "Call it a test of your intellectual instincts." Rolling my eyes so hard it nearly caused whiplash, I started pulling books off the shelf and organized them into very important categories: "Billionaire Brainwashing" (titles like How to Win at Negotiations, Stock Market Secrets—snoozefest.) "Mildly Interesting" (like The Psychology of Power—kind of creepy, but curious.)