Excerpts From A Book Novels & Stories

I wanna if someone out there is reading my book hope you enjoyed this chapter lots of love faiyth♡♡♡

⸻ Almost deliberately. ⸻ Then a single object emerged. ⸻ Not a weapon. ⸻ Not a creature. ⸻ Not a god. ⸻ A book. 📖 ⸻ A simple book. ⸻ Floating in the air. ⸻ Burned. ⸻ Damaged. ⸻ Ancient. ⸻ Its pages were torn. ⸻ Its cover almost destroyed. ⸻ Yet one title remained visible. ⸻

My fingers ached from flipping too many pages and my eyes were tired from staring too hard. I was just about to give up and throw another book across the table when something caught my eye. It was a picture. I paused, slowly flipping the page back. There, in the corner of an old dusty book, was a drawing of a few strange-looking leaves. I leaned in closer. I didn’t recognize them, but the text under it mentioned something about skin regeneration… and scars. My heart skipped a beat. “Could it be?” I whispered.

They didn't speak much and so I feel like I should continue my words to break this silence. "I am not that sure about what I am about to say but I've read this in some book I saw in the library. Although the credibility of that book is something I can't guarantee" I sat on the ground and pick up the pencil I had with me. Opening the small book I have, I started to draw on the blank page that is not pure white in color. They just keep silent and let me continue my drawing. "Have you heard about the Heminrey plant?"

Arizona was right, there had to be something relating to them here. I kept walking, weaving through rows of books. I stopped when I came across a book, slightly sticking out of the shelve. I walked up to it and pulled it out. It was coated in dust. I quickly dusted the cover and opened the book. I lazily flipped through the pages of the book. I was about to close the book when a dried up rose petal fell out. It must have been used as a bookmark. I picked it up and turned to look at the page it had fallen from.

The paper fell away, revealing an old leather-bound volume, its cover embossed with faded gold lettering in a language that looked like a mix of Latin and something far older. “Tah — Rituals of the Eternal Flame and Flesh.” A sex god. Not just any fertility deity — a lost god of desire, ecstasy, and carnal dominion. The dealer’s notes had been vague, but the title alone sent heat rushing through me. I opened the book carefully. The pages were thick vellum, illuminated with intricate drawings of a towering male figure with glowing eyes, surrounded by writhing bodies in states of rapturous abandon. As I turned the first page, a faint warmth spread through the room. The watching feeling returne

She pulled it out, sneezed once as dust motes tickled her nostrils, and lowered the book on the coffee table. The title was written in cursive gold letters, 'The Art Of The Body'. Clearly out of curiosity, she opened to the middle of the book, and her eyes nearly popped out in pure mortification. The book contained explicit diagrams of men and women in different, erotic, sexual poses.

I smiled at him and he disappeared on the spot the same way he appeared. I looked at the book and sat down on the carpeted floor. I was ready to learn and I looked at the drawing on the cover page. It wasn't a drawing per se but more of an engraving. It seemed to be calling to me and I touched it. It was a circle with drawings inside it and there was a spiral shape that has three points that emanated from the middle and I touched it and without knowing where a needle or sharp object came from since I hadn't seen any on the book, I felt my finger get pricked and before I could take it back, blood had already trickled on the book and I heard a clicking sound and there was light all around the

“For you.” I could hardly believe it. Flipping through the composition book, I could make out pages upon pages filled with neat handwriting, what looked like ten chapters worth of reading, and even… a couple of smutty scenes. My cheeks warmed as I flipped to a random page and read something about the dragon turning into a man, and…

It's a black book, smaller than most of the others on the shelf, and something about it draws me toward it. I pull the book from the shelf and look at the cover. It's some kind of local history book about the town and surrounding area. Not exactly exciting reading material, but for some reason I feel compelled to flip through it. I open the book and start turning the pages slowly. Most of it is exactly what I expected—dry historical facts. But then, as I'm flipping through it, a small piece of paper falls out from between the pages. I bend down to pick it up, thinking it's probably just someone's old bookmark or a receipt they used as a page marker.