Broken Books Novels & Stories

Reading books has been my therapy lately. "Let's get to it," I mumbled before I started searching the shelf to find a book to keep me busy, and I finally found one, 'Promises Are Made To Be Broken' by Cha Cha, a Nigerian author. Although it was my first time checking this book out, but I trust her work to always come out good, because I've read some of her books in recent days and found them all interesting. I had no idea why her books are here on the royal shelf, well, that wasn't my problem though.

“As long as you remember why you came back.” I reached for the new bundle and unwrapped it, my excitement returning. The familiar scent of old parchment filled the air as I flipped through the worn pages. But my smile disappeared when I spotted something strange. “Ingrid…” I murmured, holding one of the books up. “This one’s also damaged again.” She leaned over, and her brows furrowed. “What?” Pages were missing yet again!. Not torn from the spine like yesterday's own, but sliced out cleanly. Precise. Intentional.

The silence was punctuated only by our quiet murmurs, our shared yearning for a past we never knew, a future we desperately wished for. Later, amidst the twisted metal and rubble, James stumbled upon a tattered book, its cover mostly torn away, revealing only a few words—'The Chronicles of Atheria'. The title alone conjured images of a world far removed from our own, a place of magic and wonder, of brave knights and epic quests. The pages, brittle with age and decay, contained fragmented stories, glimpses of a civilization that had flourished before the catastrophe. It spoke of vibrant cities, of advanced technology, and of a society that lived in harmony with its environment.

The sound it made when it broke filled the silence like thunder, but it wasn’t enough. I swept the shelf clean—jars, scrolls, dried herbs, candleholders—all of it crashed to the ground in a whirlwind of fragments and falling petals. I tipped over the bench, kicked the cracked basin of water, let the books fall from their stacks and scatter across the floor like wounded birds. I screamed until my voice cracked, until my throat burned and my chest throbbed. Then I sank to the floor, breathing in shards and ink and lavender, my arms wrapped around my knees.

~~~~~~~~~~~THE END~~~~~~~~~~~ Coming soon: Beautiful and Healed Synopsis: (Sequel of Broken and Pregnant) After being locked in jail for five years, Lucy Mason was finally free. Her life inside the prison wasn't easy. Thanks to her new inmate friend Cassandra. She was the one who helps her battle depression and despair. They got out of prison together and it's game time for those who hurt and betrayed her when she was Lucy Mason. She's back with a new name Greta Stone, the wife of a rich businessman Gale Stone who happened to be Kent's stepbrother.

She wrote about what the hiding had built that the open alone could not have produced. She wrote: the breaking and the healing are both in the record. Neither one erases the other. The building that you do from the break is only possible because of the specific understanding that the break gave you. You did not earn the break. The break was wrong. But what you make from it is yours, and it is real, and it could not exist without having been you specifically who survived it and chose to build.

The one she swore she’d never open unless she had to. It wasn’t really a book anymore at all. It used to be, once — long ago, before water and smoke and teeth and panic had worked on it. Now it was a block. Thick and lopsided, bound in mismatched leather, edges burned and split. Half the pages were gone, charred to curls. The writing that remained had bled in places, ink like old blood, symbols Baylee didn’t recognize, stuttering between languages that shouldn’t have sat together.

Jaymianne asked her secretary whilst placing another tea. Cheslea crouched beside her and held her hands. She smiled, reassuring that her boss deserved everything accomplished in her life. "What makes you think that?" "I don't have siblings and my parents died leaving the bankrupt company to me. My life has become a mess ever since I met that man." "You deserve everything, Jayme. The money that passed to you and the company you restored. We don't have much staff but we still operate because of the clients who trusted you so don't think that you aren't worthy of your achievements."

“Music book? Where is it?” Deirdre didn’t have time to answer. She knelt on the ground and groped in its direction based on memory. Following her movements, Brendan saw the wooden music book, which was broken into two on the ground. He didn’t know what was so precious about it. However, when Deirdre touched it, she held it in her arms like a precious treasure. “No, it’s broken into two…” said Deirdre helplessly. After a while, she felt sluggish, let out a muffled cry, and hugged the book even tighter.

Tears blurred the page, dripping onto the words as I wrote. The pain chewed through me, slow and merciless. I thought back to my last life. After I begged Jack to get tested, he packed up and walked out. Said he couldn't live with someone "so cruel." Then he vanished. No calls. No link. Nothing. I searched everywhere—Silvermoon Guard base, every place he might hide. But I never saw him again. The link stayed dead. There was no way to persuade him to go to the hospital for a check-up.