British Library Tales Of The Weird Novels & Stories

I didn’t want to think the worst of people but my aunt turned out to be the biggest liar of them all. “I will see you later for lunch okay?” I walked over to my bed and grabbed my satchel. “Okay,” she grumbled. I didn’t like lying to her but this was a necessity, at least for the time being. I left the room shortly after and headed to the library. On the tour of the campus they had, they told us that this was one of the largest libraries in all of England. It housed a lot of history and I was sure that if I wanted to find out about mythical creatures that would be the perfect place to start.

With some effort, I managed to push it open, revealing an enormous underground chamber. My breath caught in my throat. The chamber was filled with rows upon rows of old books and scrolls—an ancient library dedicated to werewolf lore and magic. The walls were lined with shelves crammed with forgotten knowledge, and in the center of the room stood a large, intricately carved table covered in tomes and manuscripts. I approached the table, my eyes scanning the titles. Many of the books were written in old, nearly forgotten languages, but one tome caught my attention. It was bound in dark leather, the title barely legible: "The Lament of the Moon."

(Hirre's POV) ~In the next day~ the Tyranny Pack. "Hirre, what's now? Did you find something you needed?" Sandra, my cousin asked as she sat beside me. We were almost two hours in the massive Library but I only read a forbidden book about magic. "Yeah. This Book of Morgue matched the things that Doctor Zahard said to me." I said while continuing to read the contents. "So what did you find out?" Sandra added as she looked at me, waiting for me to reply.

She nodded, her expression resolute. She placed the mirror on the floor, and next to it, a small pot filled with a strange, glowing liquid which she surprisingly brought out of her small bag. She closed her eyes, her lips moving as she began to chant a strange, unintelligible language. As she spoke, a wind began to pick up, the fire in the hearth flickering wildly. The windows in the room opened and closed on their own accord as if moved by an invisible hand. A feeling of dread began to creep up my spine, and I felt a chill in the air.

Their gazes settled on me like I had gone a bit off, running around aimlessly. I looked awful. I knew they were probably thinking I had gone mad, searching the halls for someone who wasn't there. It hadn't been them who saw a weird-looking man scan them like a trophy he had just won. It seemed everything was starting to haunt me since dinner last night. Without any luck, I walked to the library in search of answers and the only one who could provide them. The large door of the library was wide open for anyone. Its large oak wood was the rarest in the pack. Some people said it could be used to kill witches, although it was not proven.

Just muttered, “Feel free to browse.” I nodded and wandered. The silence was thick. Peaceful. I ran my fingers along the spines—mysteries, war history, sci-fi. None of it felt right. I turned a corner and found myself in a crooked, narrow aisle. A handwritten label above the shelf read: “Folklores, Myths & Things Best Left Alone.” Something about it made me shiver. I reached out and picked a worn, black-spined book: “The Blood and Bond of the Wild.”

“Miss Abby, you’ve been cooped up in here too long. What are you—” Her eyes landed on the book. She froze. Then she dropped the tray right on my desk with a thud. “Where did you get that?” I arched a brow. “It’s from the royal library.” Norma stepped back as if it might bite her. “That’s the Demon Lord’s Grimoire.” I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “Seriously?” “No jokes, Miss Abby!” she hissed. “That book… it’s in all the old tavern stories. The Demon Lord of Thunder and Death. His relic. They say whoever opens it risks being cursed forever.”

There were many good books in this library and Steve was enjoying himself as he read through some of them. His favourite was Werewolves: Origins. It intrigued him because the author was unknown which gave the book more mystery. He also noticed some books and was certain Emma had read them. Healing with Magic. The Cure is Everywhere. Steve also noticed that the authors were anonymous. It was as if the library only kept books of mysterious authors. It piqued his interest and made him wonder how Emma’s father had gotten his hands on these books.

I wanted to keep arguing just so he would keep talking in that deep voice. He kept his word. All day long he followed me everywhere I went. Through the big living room with the soft couches, into the kitchen where the cooks were working, even when I tried to hide in the library with a book. Every time I turned around he was right there, tall and quiet in his perfect black suit, those sharp grey eyes watching me. It made me so mad I wanted to scream, but it also made me wet between my legs. The more he stayed close, the more I wanted him. My body kept remembering how his hands had felt on me earlier, and it was driving me crazy.

The old university library smelled of aged paper and secrets. It was past eleven when I slipped between the tall shelves in the restricted section, heart racing. No one was supposed to be here this late, but I couldn’t resist. My fingers trembled as I pulled out a worn leather book titled Forbidden Desires of the Victorian Age. The pages held explicit stories that made my cheeks burn and my body ache.