Endless Reader Scratch Novels & Stories

The scratching of a pencil on paper. Regular. Easy. Right behind the last door. The five looked at each other. Nobody spoke. The sound went on. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Like someone has been writing on the same story for a long time. Slowly they went closer. The door was made of dark wood. Inconspicuous. No sign. No name. Only a small set was pinched into the wood. Old. Almost invisible. Aren was lit with the flashlight on it.

She was holding her notebook. "Elara! Vane! Look!" She pointed to the last page of the notebook. A new paragraph was writing itself in real-time, in a gold ink that hadn't existed five minutes ago. “The End of the Story was burned, but the Drafts remain. And the First Draft of the New World has just been rejected by the Publisher.” The ground beneath the manor groaned. But it wasn't an earthquake. A massive, celestial shadow fell over the house. Elara looked up and saw a giant, golden pen miles long descending from the clouds.

The staircase led toward the blind doors, the wall marked with my own handwriting: “Nothing happens. Proceed.” I ran a finger along the words. The chalk was dry, the surface clean. Two steps higher, on the corner, a tiny, nearly invisible scratch in the stone: two short lines, pause, five quick, then two short again. Five and two — centered. Not human-carved; more like the tip of a claw or sharp shard. Not deep, not menacing. A sign. “You see it?” Aedan asked. “I see.” I held the chalk in my palm. “I won’t erase it.” Above the scratch, with small, unobtrusive motions, I wrote: “noted.”

“I’m revising.” I grabbed another proposed ending. “STANDARD TRAGIC ENDING,” its header proclaimed. I crossed it out. The ink of the original title tried to bead and repel mine, but the pen bit through anyway, leaving a thick black scar across the words. The entire row of “Proposed Endings” shuddered violently, books rattling in their slots as if trying to shake off my strike. On the line beneath, where the system had queued options for alternative “tragedy modes,” space opened.

Endless. Forever.

"You are going to hurt your eyes. Is the book almost done?" Elara looked at the screen, at her mother then at the pen. "I... I think I am almost done " Elara said. Her voice was shaking. "Well do not keep your readers waiting " Sarah said with a smile. "The billionaire needs to get what is coming to him right?" Sarah kissed Elara's head and walked back to her bedroom. Elara sat down at the desk. She looked at the laptop. She felt the pen in her hand. It felt right. Then she saw something in the reflection on the screen.

They became a happy family again with their little Jians'. The years went by with joy, peace and love! THE END! ****** Thank you all for reading this book (Endless Trials: Before The Birth Of The Baby). I hope you all enjoyed this story as much as I did while writing it. I wish you all a safe and happy life. I love you all!! Stay Safe!

Sandra nodded and left. Tiana kept reading, trying hard not to get bored since she couldn't understand anything most of the time. There was a lot of unknown words. Slowly, she was starting to get bored but still forced herself to read a little more. When she thought she couldn't anymore, she picked ‘how to seduce a man’. She was actually too tired to read but she had nothing else to do while waiting for Nicklaus.

It wasn’t yellowed with age or made of scratchy, pulpy parchment, but when I tugged it (gently, feeling Davin’s eyes on me all the while) it felt stuck as surely as the rest of them. Even the font and ink were different, scrawled hastily in an untidy hand. Brow furrowed, I held it up to the flickering gas lantern on the wall. “Well, come on, then.” Marla tapped her fingers on the tabletop. “Read out what it says.” I pursed my lips and made a show of clearing my throat noisily, re-adjusting my seat and struggling to hold back my smirk. Davin didn’t even look slightly amused, and the knot in my heart pulled taut.

he said. Mira didn’t blink. “Forgiveness isn’t the point,” she replied. “We’re learning to outlive what you built.” He nodded once. “Then you’ll need more ink.” She turned to leave, but paused at the door. “We have plenty.” The City Above That night, the Reader’s Board filled again—pages fluttering in the wind, tethered with rope and hope. People came by lamplight, children in their parents’ arms, traders with hands still rough from work, teachers whispering dates and figures like they were scripture.