Dog-ear A Book Mga Nobela at Kwento

“Thank you, sir. I’m Amerie. Your shop is lovely. Do you have any books or old maps of the surrounding area? I’d love to learn more about my new home.” “Ah, of course. Down the third aisle toward the end you’ll find one book by Caneen alongside some old maps.” He pointed at the aisle. Amerie thanked him and went to the book and maps. She took a bite of the chocolate pastry as she glanced at the shelves. As she walked down the aisle, she noticed small wolves carved into the columns of the bookshelves. The book Tom had mentioned seemed old yet not very worn. The front cover was black with a golden paw print, and the author’s name was in green at the top. The spine of the book read “The Town of

she mumbled, intrigued. Nueva flicked to the last page, and a nightmarish creature covered in red fur with large canine fangs stared at her dead-on with its vile green orbs. She instinctively closed the book; her chest rose in short ragged breaths. Nueva quickly tied the string back around the cover and placed the book neatly back in the waiting slot.

Just the sound of him breathing made bile rise in her throat. She knelt down to pick up the book. As she lifted it from the muddy ground she froze. It landed right on top of an enormous paw print. Elly looked around for more prints. It was the first time she saw anything like it. The print was easily larger than her head. “There you are.” As Elly turned around Darren slapped the book out of her hands. She nearly jumped out of her skin at his sudden appearance. “Ah come on.” She reached down to get the book again. Darren moved close to her. Elly looked up to see his crotch directly in her face, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

I had to know why we had been separated, why the world kept us blind to this bond. The library, tucked away in the east wing of Djurek castle, had always been my sanctuary. The scent of old pages and the whispers of forgotten tales filled my senses as I entered. Rows upon rows of ancient books and scrolls towered over me, their spines cracked and frayed with time. I walked purposefully, running my fingers along the shelves until I found the volume I needed—The Forgotten Dialects of the Werewolves. I flipped through the brittle pages with care until my eyes landed on a symbol identical to the one etched into the earrings. My breath hitched as I read:

Cats with doubled whiskers or extra toes. Every animal I’d ever encountered had something wrong with it. Some small deviation from what the history books said animals used to look like when humans still existed. But this dog… This dog looked like it had stepped out of one of those old photographs. Perfect and whole and unmarked by the realm’s corruption. It sat down just outside my cell, head tilted, watching me with those unsettling blue eyes. “Hi,” I whispered. My voice came out rough from disuse. The dog’s ears perked up.

She looks towards the familiar face. Elora is dressed in a light yellow maxi till her knees. "What has got you so lost, Muffin?" "Nothing," saying, she puts her book on the bed and gives all attention to her stepmother. "Let me see what my cute little muffin reads," she picks up the book. Her eyes start twitching reading the texts in the book. She turns it to see its cover. Evolution by Douglas J, says the title. "You've just finished college...take a chill dear," Elora says in a sweet voice.

"Ninety-five. Too short. One hundred fifteen. Too long. One hundred five. Getting warmer. One hundred nine. Colder. Okay, here it is. A Girl and a Dog. One hundred pages." Jane walked up and down the shelves, half looking at the titles, half looking at nothing. "Here's another one," Emily called over to her in a loud whisper. "A horse of Her Own. Exactly one hundred pages. Do want it? Or do you want A Girl and a Dog instead?" Jane shook her head. "It sounds like a children's book." "It looks like a short book. Okay, here's another one. One hundred and three pages. There's a dog on the cover too."

“What the hell is going on here?” My rasping voice only accentuated the strange, forlorn silence of my home. Nothing made any sense. Nothing seemed or felt real. Hadn’t, really, since we’d discovered those two dead dogs and that altar in the clearing, and especially since yesterday morning . . . When I’d seen that damned book at The General Store. The book I’d apparently bought in a fugue state and then read multiple times without remembering anything. The book that . . . I opened my eyes, looked down and—feeling very little surprise—saw The King Wears Yellow sitting open before me on the den table.

Aesthelia began to explore one more time to find anything useful and effective in summoning a wolf spirit. The moment that wolf appeared, Aesthelia realized that the wolf hadn't fully abandoned this character. Somewhere deep within her mind, it stayed, but she was unaware of what to do or just how. Aesthelia nearly gave up the thought, but a book caught her eyes. The cover was blank, with no titles or who wrote them. It's simple to look old. Aesthelia turned her around at the same time she heard a footstep just in front of the door. Gior and Flo noticed it too, and the three of them stared at each other.

Kira suggested, and I nodded in agreement. I looked around and began picking up the scattered books on the floor. I couldn’t help but wonder why the room was such a mess, so I shook my head. I placed the books on a table against the wall, then rubbed my thumb across its surface, marveling at how clean it was, no dust at all. So how did the mess happen? As I knelt to pick up the scattered papers, my fingers brushed against something stiff. I flipped it over to reveal a photograph, a snapshot of a black-furred wolf. My heart raced as I realized these were rogues.