Booktok Reading Journal Novels & Stories

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The ladies all giggle and Julie stands, handing a new bookmark to each of us. "Yes. We figured we'd get you ones that suited you a little better." she says. The new one is dark blue with gold lettering that says 'Real men read dirty books'. I smile and look over at Ev who's showing Harper his excitedly. "These are great. Thank you." I say just as Bri nudges me. "Oh! Tell them your joke, love!" Harper says excitedly. Ev rolls his eyes before addressing the group.

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Inside was a beautifully bound book. Its pages were blank. Attached was a handwritten note. "Your Majesties," "When you visited our village, you reminded us that every voice matters." "This book is a gift for your child." "May they fill its pages with their own thoughts, dreams, and discoveries." "May they always remain curious." "And may they never stop learning from the people around them." Nova carefully closed the book. "It's perfect." Kieran smiled. "Our child already has their first journal." She placed it beside the keepsake box containing their letters.

Instead, she shifted gears, asking, "What were you reading?" I snapped my fingers, and my journal reappeared in my hand. It was a treasured possession, filled with entries spanning the past 100 years. I had amassed a collection of these journals, each one a testament to my love of recording every detail of my life. I wrote about experiences, adventures, thoughts, plans, and ideas - nothing was left unrecorded.

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'

A blast of cold air rushed up from below, smelling like wet stone, old blood, and something rotten beneath snow. The journal slid across the floor toward the opening. “No!” I lunged for it. Damien caught me tighter. “Leave it.” “No.” “That thing wants you closer.” “The book has been more honest than half the people in this town.” “It is not a person.” “Neither are half the people in this town.” The journal teetered on the edge. Pages fluttering. Glowing. Waiting. Then one page ripped free and flew upward on a burst of silver wind.

The preparation for the third book was inward: the reading of the journals, both of them, across sixteen years. He had asked Ernest in November: I want to read both journals. Not the private entries — the entries that are about the argument. The entries that are the argument's evidence. Ernest had said: tell me which you want to read and I will read alongside you and we will decide together which entries belong to the argument and which do not.

I clarified. "Wait—what are you trying to say?" I didn't know how to put it in a way that does not offend her, hence I just stayed quiet about it and just described to her what the specific contents of the book may entail. Thankfully, she obliged without a word. After relentless scouring and searching, we eventually stumbled upon one that met my criteria. It was a journal—a journal authored by a former warrior of the Great Rift. "Are you sure this is what you're looking for? Not a textbook?"

The ache in my heart turns to butterflies in my belly. There’s a rickety stool outside the den with a book sitting on it, a paperback that’s gotten soaked and dried at least once, opened like a fan. A bookmark made of braided grass is tucked between the pages. He reads? What is he reading? My wolf can’t read. All she can do to satisfy my curiosity is sniff the pages. They smell like they’ve been dew-dampened and baked in the sunshine many, many times. She bumps it off the chair with her enthusiasm, and Justus rescues it from the ground.