Booktok Book Journal Novels & Stories

She showed me the cover of the journal. “I am sure she was a great person who cofounded this pack. I read about her in pack’s history.” I said tracing the leather cover. I could feel its old age. “This journal contains her life’s most secret chapters and only few people have access to read it. Now, I am giving this to you so you can learn about her and how she backed her mate to expand and strengthen this pack.” She said and placed the book on the table. I looked up at her. She wanted to say something else and it was just the start of a long conversation.

Both were really awkward at each other at first but when they found out that both were reading the same book, they eventually got a comfortable to talk at each other. “So, you also read that book-” “Yeah, I got into it after a friend of mine recommended it to me.” “Isn’t it a great book.” “Yeah, I got hooked on it after reading the first chapter.” “bla-bla-bla” Both continued to talked to each other and enjoyed their conversation. “I was feeling an awkward atmosphere growing between our table so I was gonna try to start a conversation but when you brought out your book, I was just surprised to see a person reading it.” The girl said.

I took a pic of me eating and posted with the hashtag #latenightsnack I washed the leftover dishes and went upstairs to freshen up and get ready for bed When I came out of the bathroom the first thing I noticed was the brown paper packed with books and that old journal slipping out of my bag I crawled over to the middle of my bed to check it out. I opened the bag completely and brought out all the books, I picked up the journal and it actually looked really old, especially the leather on it, then I remembered Mr Jonathan's word's '...That book will test you...' I took a deep breath and opened the book. The pages were.... Blank?? I flipped through the book and it was the same I actually didn'

He had spent one book full of writing about his experience ever since he moved in this world, even when he was in the mausoleum. He didn’t think it would take at least a whole book to write all of his experience until now, but it was convenient that he happened to have bought two blank books. So when he finished writing about their return to the kingdom, Jai closed the first book and opened another one, and started writing what happened after. You can say those books were his diaries now, also a note. And he would bring them whenever he’s going away. But for now, it stayed in Barun and Miria’s house, his new home. “Meow!” Usha suddenly appeared on the windowsill, distracting him for a second

he said. “By about four days,” she said. “I checked against the journal.” “You keep records,” he said. “I keep records,” she agreed. They stood for a while. “The book is doing something,” he said. “The reader messages.” She’d been sharing some of them with the household — not all, some were private in ways that the sharing would violate, but the ones that were about the quality of the book rather than the specifics of the readers’ lives. “Yes,” she said.

Behind it, wedged into the hollow space, was a bundle wrapped in yellowing muslin, stained at the corners with a brownish hue that made her blood chill. She drew it out carefully. The fabric crackled like parchment in her fingers. Inside lay a thick, leather-bound book. Her pulse throbbed in her ears. A journal. *** Savannah sat cross-legged on the floor, spine pressed against the tall bookshelf. The journal rested in her lap, heavy as a tombstone. She ran her fingers over the cracked leather cover, tracing the faded initials burnt into it. M.Q. The pages were delicate, yellowed, speckled with dried blood and smudged ink. Each one breathed secrets.

Cleaning up the cookies, I grabbed the book I was reading before I had opened up my laptop to do a last-minute check. I was taking a break from birthing and raising kids’ book by diving back into my mother’s journal. She had some things that I was planning on using for the birth since she did a water birth with me. There were a lot of moments she wrote about outside of that. Even some recipes. It was the only thing I had left from her. The sun had already set when I looked up from the pages. Sighing, I stood up to grab a bite to eat before I went to bed early. I felt a shift in my stomach and my eyes widened. I suddenly soaked the sweats I was wearing. My heart raced.

Now that I’d mostly learned how to translate his crappy handwriting, I was able to slowly pick my way through it. The first page described him… Writing a book? My gaze jerked back to the spare room and then dipped back to the journal to keep reading. The next few pages were about his pack buddies and his family. He seemed close to them. Then his book was mentioned again. Insurrection. I dropped the journal again, and crossed the hallway yet another time, stopping in front of the bookshelf. My eyes scanned the many, many books, until… Insurrection. Bingo. I grabbed the paperback off the shelf, and my eyes scanned the cover. It had a snake and a skull and looked kind of epic, definitely someth

I looked at the plate of snacks, then at the old leather-bound books about witches I had been hiding, and finally at the massive journal sitting by my plate. With a frustrated groan, I pushed the witch books aside and pulled the King's journal toward me, flipping it open to the first page. I had an hour to figure out how to judge a pack of wolves, and the clock was ticking. I flipped past the filled pages, the paper scraping against my fingers as I hurried toward the back of the book. Most of the entries were filled with neat, dense handwriting detailing past disputes, land boundaries, and punishments. I kept turning until the ink stopped, opening to the very last written page.

A shiver ran down my spine. Retracing my steps, I padded over to the table, which had the item lying on it. It was a book, a really, really old book. Flipping through the pages, I discovered it was a journal, its pages detailing the fall of a great alpha king. My brows scrunched. What the hell is an alpha? However, before I could read further, an unseen force hit me, nearly sweeping me off my feet.