Centuries Book Novels & Stories

The most appropriate book possible. Richard looks intrigued. Beth too. "What's it about?" "A man, born in the nineteen-thirties, who goes on to live over two thousand years. In life, he experiences every form of marriage other than life-long monogamy. The book is essentially a series of short stories taking photo snaps of his life. And it has some wonderful quotes." "Such as?" Which ones to choose? Not the ones I remember her reading to me.... Those are too sharp, too edgy for me to share...

A dozen youths left dejectedly. In Xiao Chen's last life, people used Immortal Century to number the years. Nowadays, people used Open Century to number the years. It was now more than 2,000 years in the Open Century, but the historical records here regarding the earliest times were about 4,000 years before Open Century. Therefore, this world had about 7,000 years of history. Xiao Chen could not help feeling emotional. Waking up from a dream, he saw 7,000 years pass. It should be the last years of the Immortal Century in about 5,000 years before Open Century. Unfortunately, there was no record here regarding that period of time.

“Here.” She flips open the book and I lean over to see what it is, in hopes that maybe, just maybe, there’s something in here. The book in question is falling apart, and she has dug it out from somewhere far at the back. From what I can make of it anyway, it’s at least several centuries old and I can see the glimmer of magic that is fading, ancient magic used to preserve it. “Here… look, it mentions a calamity that took place several centuries ago.” She says, pointing to a page that is barely readable.

She finds she minds the not-knowing. Momentum and Resistance: Patterns in Medieval European Trade Route Development, 1100-1400. Academic press, 1987, the spine worn in the way that books get worn when they've been read repeatedly rather than owned decoratively, which tells her it belonged to someone who used it. She turns to the front page. No inscription. Just the book, deliberately chosen and sent without ceremony, as if it requires no explanation. As if the explanation is self-evident. She puts it down. She makes coffee. She picks it up again.

A corner of his mouth curled as he reached for my temperature-controlled suitcase. "Let's go. The Mentor is waiting for you at the research institute. She's been looking forward to this for two centuries." My breath hitched. Two hundred years ago, I had refused the Mentor's offer of a permanent position to follow Vincent without a moment's hesitation. Two hundred years later, I had fled back in disgrace, all because of a sham wedding and a report confirming the life-bond he had forged with Camilla. Standing before the institute, Lucas seemed to notice my daze. He suddenly raised his voice, shouting down the corridor, "Mentor, Elena's back!"

' I thought as I remembered the book that I had read. The book was about the legendary Queen from before 5-6 centuries, and the front cover of the book was a white female wolf growling at the moon. "This isn't what it looks like, right?" I heard someone say near me, or should I say Carla before she growled loudly.

The transition from "Ascended Monarchs" to "starving shifters" happened remarkably fast. For hours, we were buried in vellum and leather. We moved through stacks of ancient scrolls, but it seemed the Great Library of the Queens had a sense of humor—or a very mundane side. We found "The Little Dragon Who Lost His Spark," a three-volume set on the proper way to tax wool in the fourteenth century, and a surprisingly aggressive book on the ethics of herbalism.

I even stumbled upon a book that belonged to the earlier Human Empire, which was eventually destroyed. I eventually chose a book, walked up to a seat, and sat down. The History of One Thousand Years. The Beast Kingdom was only mentioned in this one book, however, I'm not sure why that is. The book's title was neither innovative nor enticing. But I wasn't looking for a decent book to read, I was looking for knowledge on the Beast Kingdom. Dust was scattered everywhere when I opened the book. There was the odour of old wood that was hundreds or maybe thousands of years old.

The group held its collective breath as he parted the book slightly. The spine of the book creaked but held. The paper seemed to be leaf like and he wondered in which century the book was written. The pages were faded though still legible. Numerous drawings had lost their intensity but the images remained clear. The buzz of excitement in the air was tangible. “How long will it take to get to the first page?” Aquina whispered to Beecher. “At this pace, our grandkids might learn the secrets.” He winked as he said it, and she caught the double entendre.