Distraction Book Novels & Stories

You can read the book for curiosity's sake but not reading the book will not disturb the flow of the story so enjoy ! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Her head began to ache due to overthinking. It would be better for her kids if she looked for a distraction.An idea popped up in her mind. The novel,Once There Was A Man. She didn't know why but that novel somehow managed to catch her attention and she wanted nothing than to see the end of it. However,the moment she settled down to read she heard a loud commotion downstairs.She at first ignored it but it was coming closer and closer. Diana set the book on the bed and strodded downstairs. "What's going on out there?!" she shot at the guard who made his way to her.

Just then, a notification sound chimed. Diana focused her gaze and saw that Leah had added a new book. "Extraterrestrial Beings." It seemed like she was catering to Colin's interests. Diana massaged her temples, feeling a dull headache coming on. Colin, good luck to you, brother.

I brace myself, preparing for a lecture similar to the one Archer gave me. Instead, Beau says, “What you need is a distraction.” I look up at him with surprise. He smirks as he lifts the book in his hands. “I know just the thing.”

After that, I spend an hour in the gym downstairs, and then I grab some lunch before wandering into the rec room with a book my dad sent me called Finding Your Center: The Busy Woman's Guide to Inner Peace and Tranquility. I make it three pages before I start to feel antsy. It's too easy to let my mind wander while I'm reading. My thoughts keep going back to my argument with Luca last night. Or to our practice session last week. Or to a dozen other little things I've promised myself I won't think about.

It's actually crazy how such a casual thing as reading can create a huge impact on someone. Not long after, I was completely hooked by the book. One page after another and I couldn't seem to stop myself from continuing to read. But there was one thing that distracted me from fully focusing on my book. There was a faint knock that came quietly, then there was a silence, then I'd continue again. Considering my parents weren't home, I tried my best to ignore it since the noise probably wasn't from my house. I heard another knock, louder and faster this time. My eyes lurked around the room, trying to find out where the sound was coming from.

I need to take time. I remember the small room I entered last time. I slowly opened the door and turned on the lampshade. The books on the table were still scattered. I tried to look and read each one of them. These are all interesting books. Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer, The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli, The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, and a lot more. I tried to find something that might help me, but I found nothing.

I wonder how long I can survive in this world without turning to ash. I spent most of the day in my room. Pretending to read, trying to trick my brain into believing words on a page can hush the chaos inside me. I scroll through bookstagram, click add to cart, order five more novels I’ll never finish. Let’s be honest, none of us buy books to read them all. We buy them for the hope they carry. For the illusion that we’re better, smarter and more in control that we actually are. I tell myself distraction is healing. But even lies feel tired in my mouth now.

I paced up and down and kept staring at the huge clock on the wall. “2:23 am” and he's still not back. He told me not to worry, but how could I possibly do that? How could I do that when he's literally on a dangerous quest? I fidgeted with my fingers, sipping my tea to no avail, I waited for his arrival. “Maybe I need something to distract me.” I made my way to our room and grabbed the latest book he got me. I returned to the living room and tried my best to distract myself. “Fifty Shades of Grey is one heck of a book.” It's just weird how people term this as sexuality.

“Or maybe read a book? Rub myself into a stupor. The usual stuff.” “Does it help?” “Depends on the book.” “That’s not what I meant,” he said. Ngh. His voice. That note of command, cool and unyielding, like chains wrapping her up tight. “Um, yes. Tends to quiet my brain. If nothing else, it’s distracting.” There was a silence. Distorted, as ever, by the medium of their communication, and unreadable. “Then perhaps you should try that,” he offered. “Are you telling me to?” It was out before she could think better of it.