Romans & histoires Bookworms

Just delete the book from your library and add it back. Thank you! Sincerely yours Author Blackangel

It was a section of the library dedicated entirely to novels, a vast treasure trove of fiction from around the world. Ashley's eyes sparkled with anticipation as she took in the towering shelves, each one packed with row upon row of novels. The smell of old leather-bound books mixed with the faint scent of the underground air, creating a unique atmosphere that felt like a secret garden of stories waiting to be explored.

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.

Little did I know, the spark was about to become a raging inferno, courtesy of something far beyond the mortal realm. It started on a rainy Friday night. I’d come home exhausted from a long week, my blouse clinging to my skin from the downpour outside. I kicked off my heels, letting them thud against the hardwood floor, and poured myself a glass of merlot. The apartment felt emptier than usual; my last girlfriend had left months ago, citing my “workaholic tendencies” as the reason. Truth be told, I missed the warmth of a body next to mine, the soft curves and whispered promises in the dark. To distract myself, I rummaged through the old box of junk in my closet— relics from my rebellious pha

“This is… completely insane.” “Not what you expected?” he finishes for me, half-smiling, half-bracing himself for the joke. “Not remotely,” I admit, walking into the surprising sanctuary. “I expected weapons, maps, and overflowing laundry hampers, not… a children’s retreat.” He shrugs, the movement burdened by the truth. “My head’s not a friendly place, Liv. The voices, the darkness—they’re constant chaos. So I try desperately to keep my environment as friendly, bright, and simple as possible. It’s my bubble against the end.”

I go to the library where I see Abner Brooks. “Ahh, young Morgan, I’m not surprised to see you here.” He gives me a genuine smile. “I came to look for books on word alchemy, I’m not sure what or if they have any here.” “They do,” He bobs his head in thought, “Not a whole ton but Bear Clans are very spiritual and keep many records of Witch Alchemy.” He leads me to a section in the back and shows me a bookshelf of old and dusty books that look like they haven’t been touched in centuries. If at all. “Knock yourself out, let me know if I can be of any help.”

It was a space designed purely for quiet study, and reverence. “These two shelves here are all about the mate bond,” Thefros said, gesturing toward a pair of bookcases halfway down the room. “Lore, case studies, theory. Everything we’ve managed to preserve.” I nodded, pulling down five books at random and settling at the table under the nearest lamp. Thefros took a seat opposite, already flipping through his own selection with practiced ease. The pages felt heavy in my hands, textured like something handmade. These books hadn’t touched a printer, some were written in fading ink, others illuminated with strange symbols or brutal sketches. One book was nothing but badly rhymed poetry pretendin

After resting for a while, they walked around and saw a bookstore which they both agreed to enter. She was reading the back of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen when Jacob asked her. “What do you say let’s read horror books? Like the ones we watched today?” “Eh? I’m scared. You go read first, then give me a summary, then I’ll decide. Haha!” “Roger!” as he picked The Dunwich Horror and Others by H.P. Lovecraft and IT by Stephen King. They finished book shopping, it was around three in the afternoon when Jacob invited her to go somewhere else.

They were still dancing, but no one was paying them any mind. She felt like she was going to throw up. "I was going through some of my father's old books, the ones that speak of wolves. I came across a new one that was hidden deep within the back of the library underneath a mountain of his old books. See, the wolves have been quiet for the past few months, not attacking villages or livestock, and I was hoping to figure out more. The book was filled with information like I had never read before. It was obviously information that very few are privy to. It might very well be the only book of its kind."

I asked her to start a conversation. “Maybe The Singer Not the Song because of the plot but above all, all of them has its different flow of story, so I enjoyed reading them all, the way it was written.” I could say from her response that she’s a big fan of books. What term humans call this again? Ah, bookworm. “So you’re a bookworm?” the strange word rolled strangely inside my mouth. “You could say that,” she said while she nods her head, laughing silently.