Books To Get Lost In Novels & Stories

I scoffed, I realized I actually had no choice but to read instead of just staying here and drowning in my thoughts and depression. The silence was too loud, and my mind was too full of what-ifs, regarding the baby’s future, Selene's strained face during her daily visits, and the growing chaos I could sense even from down here. So I reached for one of the books on top of the pile Selene had brought for me yesterday, a thick volume with a faded leather cover about lost realms and forgotten magic.

I need to take time. I remember the small room I entered last time. I slowly opened the door and turned on the lampshade. The books on the table were still scattered. I tried to look and read each one of them. These are all interesting books. Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer, The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli, The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, and a lot more. I tried to find something that might help me, but I found nothing.

Calculation. "They didn't expect us to lose them inside," I said quietly, my voice barely rising above the distant hum of Geneva's late night traffic, the low mechanical drone of a city that never truly slept, just pretended to for the benefit of tourists and people who needed to believe the world had off hours. Lucien glanced up, brow furrowed in confusion and something that looked uncomfortably close to fear. "Wait. You think that museum chase wasn't random? You think losing them was part of their plan?"

Pieces of lives she didn’t live, but could step into for a moment if she wanted. She paused in front of a small sign taped crookedly to a shelf. Stories for the Lost. Her lips curved despite herself. “Fitting,” she murmured. She scanned the titles, her eyes catching on a worn paperback with a cracked spine. The cover was faded, a sunflower sketched in uneven lines across the front. It looked loved. The kind of book someone had carried with them through seasons of their life. She reached for it at the same moment another hand did.

Sarah's P.O.V... The bell rang and one could easily hear the excited screams coming from outside. Mr. Lennard's voice was easily drown by everyone in class as they all gathered their stuff. It was finally the beginning of our summer vacation, and nobody was in the mood to listen to what Mr. Lennard was actually blabbering about. I'm glad he realized it, cause he simply rolled his eyes and left the classroom. I tried as fast as I could to stash away all my books in my bag. But the faster I tried to put them away, the faster they fell and scattered on the floor. With my trembling hands, I could hardly grip anything... I felt pathetic... This is pathetic.

he said looking straight into her eyes. Melanie dragged herself up from the bed and nodded slightly, Brenda felt a little relieve, she grabbed her school bag and headed downstairs. "We would be waiting downstairs" Charles answered leaving the room hurriedly as he shut the door behind. Melanie nodded and gently sat back on the bed, she was trying so hard to remember but then she felt this heavy headache on her forehead, she winced in pain rubbing her hand on it. She stood up and tried searching the room hoping that maybe she could find something that would either prove if Charles was telling the truth or not, Fortunately she pulled open a drawer and found a book, slowly she opened the pages a

But ever since Marina entered the picture, the letters came less and less. Today, I had exactly ninety-nine of them. I tossed both the letters and the necklace into the fireplace. Then I went to the storage room and cleared out everything from our past. The sky was growing darker when Bertrand called. "Annie, something came up at work. I have to stay late, so I won't be coming home tonight…" "Okay." I hung up, dragged my suitcase out the door, and left our home without looking back. But on the way to the airport, disaster struck.

However, whenever I saw families reunited, I could not help the quiet ache that crept into my chest. The day I was discharged, sunlight poured over me, and for a moment, I felt dazed. It reminded me of the first time I met Leo. The weather was just as beautiful as it was today. We met on a blind date–introduced through our parents' friends. He was a firefighter. I was an elementary school teacher. He was an only child. So was I. He liked quiet things, liked reading. I liked staying at home, watching movies, and tending to flowers.

I entered mine, went through the three books I had gotten from the store, and set them down on the bed. I folded my arms and read their names. The Claiming Rites, Finding the One, and Under the Red Moon. There was no order in which anyone should read these books, so I sat down and picked up The Claiming Rites. After an hour, I finished reading. The book made zero sense, and then I picked up Finding the One and spent another hour reading through it. While the first book was incomplete, the second made a little more sense. I picked up the third, which I had gone to Zion’s room with. I took my time reading, and another hour went by.

I ignored them and walked on by. Turning the corner, I strode to the library’s double doors across from the staircase without running into another soul. I was in desperate need of distraction. Books to the rescue. The library flared to life as I entered. Wall sconces lit, and the hearth awoke. I replaced the books I’d borrowed to their empty spots, then moved to a different section. Scanning the titles, I found and pulled out a couple of classics I’d been meaning to read forever. The first was The Three Musketeers, and the other was Pride and Prejudice. I hoped at least one of them held my attention enough to get lost in.