Broken Books Novels & Stories

Eva was a bit surprised when I used the term ‘we’. “Yes, Eva…. I said ‘we’. I want to protect my baby but I can’t neglect others either. But, for now, please eat your breakfast. I will search for the book.” I reassure her as I trotted up the stairs. I didn’t want to give her a chance to refuse. I found the book on the broken table. Turning the pages carefully, I realized that it was a very ancient book. Even the pages seemed to be made of some other material. Eventually, I reached the page that was torn. It wasn’t a neat tear. It looked as if someone had torn it hastily or maybe accidentally.

Zharn's mother smiled from the other side of the table next to her husband and first child. "Indeed." His father curtly replied. "Thank you." I gave my brightest rehearsed smile, hoping it looked as good as it did in my dresser's mirror. I sat down, placing my purse on my lap, and Zharn sat next to me. "Before I forget, I got you something." "You can't have anything I like except for your ginger hair." She replied coolly. "What about a book by Jamilla Coover, the final book of this Break Me series?" I raised up the black and purple popular mystery thriller novel.

Something broken, fragile. Something I had ruined.

I turned my head, knowing the sight would only break my heart further. A tearing sound could be heard throughout the hallway, followed by the light thumps of my book as it hit the floor in pieces. I couldn't help but look down at the book, the book that I had carried around for years. It was torn into five pieces, random pages and bits of cover were scattered along the floor.

She thought maybe she could see some things that could break the bond. She walked to the shelves and searched around for any books that involved werewolves. She picked up a book from the shelf. The book had a picture of a black wolf in front of the title. "Werewolves rule." She remembered that she had seen the book before. The book was for anyone who had just transformed for the first time. It was for the new wolves to know and follow certain rules. "Maybe it might have something to do with how to break it." She said , flipping the book. It was a book with a lot of tiny writing. She flipped it for some time, until she got bored. She was about to drop it when something caught her attention.

I feel safe being alone here because I know there are two guards outside the library. If only I could do something to help Damon. If only I had the ability to recognize who betrayed Damon. I put down the book I was reading on the table and looked at the high shelves in the library and suddenly the book I saw before came to my mind. That book was written by Alpha Devon and there is a faint suspicion that there is a torn page in that book. I know it's not unusual for a book to be torn because it's natural for a book, to tear and get old...but that book was strange. The book is old, but you will know that every paper used is durable. It can't just be torn because of its old age.

The longer you sulk, the sooner you’re caught. I cracked the first book open. Ancient ink, brittle parchment, faded sketches of sigils and family trees. Everything looked important. Aurelia would skin me alive if I brought the wrong scraps. I leaned close, torchlight spilling faint gold across the page. One phrase caught my eye, “The Blessing of the Broken Line.” My brows furrowed. I tore it carefully, folding it into my pocket. Another page, another sigil. Then another. I worked slow, patient, but every sound echoed like thunder, the scrape of parchment, the soft tear of paper fibers. My heart raced faster each time.

Until he engulfed me into the biggest, longest, best hug. It was almost like he fixed all my broken pieces.

Giving up her job would mean resigning herself to a life of mediocrity with the Shows. Thus, she argued with Laura. However, the old woman was a master manipulator. Even though she had beaten Queenie severely, she played the victim in front of Francis, milking his sympathy.

She didn't even want to imagine. As her eyes drooped in misery, she gave in to the ennui that had been nipping at her heels for longer than she cared to remember. She sniffled and curled into herself in sorrow as she asked herself how long she would feel like this, so alone, so completely broken. But there were no answers, only a deep void of nothing. A black hole that waited to suck her in if she let it.