Dirty Book Pages Novels & Stories

She kneeled beside a locked iron chest, whispered a spell under her breath, and opened it. The air dropped ten degrees. Inside lay a thick, ancient book wrapped in dark leather that looked almost… alive. The Book of the Damned. Its surface pulsed faintly. Rhea swallowed. “That thing creeps me out.” “It should,” Violet said simply. She carried it with both hands and placed it on the oak table. As she flipped open the pages, black ink shimmered like oil. Kael stepped closer. Fenrak crossed his arms, expression changing from playful to serious.

He yanked open the nightstand drawer and fished out that cursed book: The Devil’s Little Bane. He held it up like evidence in court, the pages fluttering. “Snatched this gem from you the other day. Knew you were deep in it. What, ten pages from the end? I finished it myself last night.” He grinned devilishly, and my chest squeezed hard, like it was about to combust. “Fuck, Cindy, the shit in here… it’s pure filth. Balls deep in demon dick and submission games. I didn’t peg you for such a dirty reader.”

Mrs Coker m0@ned I had totally forgotten that there was someone else in the room; her voice was wat brought me back I opened my eyes and turned to the direction of Mrs Coker To my surprise, Mrs Coker was totally n@ked, apart from the bra that was still hanging on her chest She had a huge d!ldo in her hand which was currently goin in and out of her c00chie as her eyes were glued to the scene in front of her "Ahhh yes," I m0@ned as I felt Mia's fingers penetrat€ me

That night, as Alessia lay in Luca's arms, her body finally surrendering to sleep, the replica box rested on the nightstand. Its edges glowed faintly under the moonlight, a shimmer invisible to the ordinary eye. The box trembled. Slowly, without touch, the lid creaked open. Inside, where nothing should have been… lay a single torn page of the Black Book. Its ink pulsed like living blood. And in a voice only Alessia could hear, even in her dreams, it whispered: "The wrong box was always the right one"......

I knew because I had been here for two days, reading. Learning. Amongst the trunk full of books Tessa had gotten for me I had been reading about witches and wolves. nothing new. Today I rummaged through the trunk and pulled out the thickest, black leather cover and the title unlike the rest. ‘Chronicles of the Abyssal eater’ Though it was in faded silver letters, I could see it perfectly. I took the book over towards the desk I had been sitting on and opened it. I could smell the old pages and the smell of mold made me scrunch up my nose.

"Take a look." The book was covered in heavy, embossed leather and in the center, in script, was the letter K. What the hell was this? A scrapbook? What kind of scrapbook could Dusty have been keeping? He continued eating in silence, preparing himself for whatever he was going to see, while Marliss and Lou gave him what he called the deadeye stare. Finally, he pushed his plate away, wiped his mouth, and opened the book.

Perhaps that had something to do with my birth father? Most of the books were leatherbound tomes, plain in appearance though they radiated waves of dark magic. On one shelf in particular sat a bunch of thinner books. I pulled one out and flicked through its pages. It seemed to be a journal of sorts, though it didn’t say who it belonged to. I pulled out one of the journals and flipped through its pages, freezing when I noticed the odd color of ink. It was the same as the page Denver had used that night.

It is encased in old leather and there is a pencil attached to the side. The cover is blank, providing no insights to what might be inside, and my curiousity reaches new lengths again. After making sure I am not being watched, I flip the cover. What comes to view is...black. The entire page is covered in black, rough painting. There are lines here and there and...I flip the next page and the darkness continues. It is harder to breathe with each page I flip, because the darkness starts to look familiar, resembling something I have seen before. Somewhere I have been before.

I looked at the book and I saw a paper sticking out of it. "Open that page Grey." He saw what I was pointing at and there was a piece of paper sticking out of it. It was torn. "It's a torn page. I'm not surprised. The book is centuries old." I looked at the page and it hit me. "That page isn't from that book." Grey was surprised and watched me as I opened my bag and rummage through it. I pulled out the book he had given me and opened the page the was torn. I took the page from Grey and it perfectly lapsed with mine.

"Somebody has to open it. It should be me. It's always going to be me." The page inside was thin and brittle, older than the license we'd read two nights before. The ink had gone brown at the edges, like weak tea left too long in the cup. Rows and columns, hand-ruled, not printed. Somebody had sat once with a pen and a ruler and built this page by hand, the way people used to before machines did it for them. "What am I looking at," I said.