Booktok Journal Novels & Stories

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.

he said and started unwrapping it. I could only hope as he opened the box that I would not be disappointed. Inside was a book, a journal to be specific, with an elaborate cover design containing the few collections of memories, techniques, and musings of the pack while on enemies, the irregulars, and all the rest. W-What is this... wow,” Lucian exclaimed in shock whose brain appeared to be overwhelmed with all the contents he was flipping over. “You really went all out on this.” “It’s because I figured that we can deduce a plan on the rogues and archive everything,” I defended, a bit proud and a bit ashamed.

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.

A water bottle, maybe. Then an old flashlight. A bundle of rusted keys. A tarnished pendant hanging from what might once have been a silver chain. Then a book. I freeze. A name is written across the cover. Jenna Maroney. I stare at it. My uneasiness grows. "Jenna Maroney," I murmur. Slowly, I open the book. It's a journal. The pages are yellowed with age. The first entry dates back more than twenty years. Something cold settles in my chest.

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.

It was as if the world outside had disappeared in a blanket of ink. Her body felt heavy, and she decided to sit on the bed. It was pretty soft, and it was nothing like she'd ever been on. She opened the drawer and saw a small, leatherbound journal with the name Dorothy Stein on it. Carefully, she opened the peeling leather covers and read the first entry, which was miraculously legible.

You need the journal. Margaret opens the small box. Inside is a small book. The small book is the kind of small book that mothers of women who are gone keep in small boxes on Tuesday afternoons. The small book is a journal. The journal is the kind of journal that women who are gone used to keep on the nights the women who are gone could not sleep, in the way that women who are gone used to keep journals on the nights the women who are gone could not sleep when the women who are gone are the kind of women who are gone who used to keep journals on the nights the women who are gone could not sleep.

Dora smiled warmly and handed me the old book, saying, "Your mother would have wanted you to have it. It's time for you to know the truth about your past." Different emotions ran through my blood as I looked at the journal, belonging to a woman I barely knew. I opened the worn pages of the journal. Inside, I found detailed accounts of her life, spells, and magical discoveries. The pages were filled with sketches, incantations, and notes. “Thank you,” I said as I put it into my bag. I stepped out of my chamber and was relieved to see Troy and Antonio waiting for me just as they had promised. Troy pulled him into his arms and hugged me tightly

He was thinking who would really be the male Alpha. "No one should be born to be the King of Alpha, if that happens I can no longer do anything." Lex exclaimed to himself while he hit the table with his hand. "Or maybe he would kill me rather if I may not follow him." Lex continues with his thoughts regarding the King of Alpha and then he shook off his head to get out of that thought. Senan who were reading a book at that time but his mind was occupied with the female Alpha. "Just incase I will not be the father of the King Alpha. What if I will kill one of my brother so no one will be a King?" Senan whispered those words in his self thinking about how would be anle to resolve his problem.

However, it is clear that from the days of yore, these two kinds have always come up with one sinister plot or another. I do not know how Arthur acquired this book but this is a personal book that I am sure was not given out willingly. In actual fact, this book is written like a journal. In it, different projects where the two kinds sort to work with each other, are recorded. I suck in my breath and adjust my posture.