Fallen Book Cover Novels & Stories

I furrow my brows in confusion, my mind reeling, trying to figure out when— The library. When I scraped against the door, it must have torn, and I was too distracted by whoever was approaching that I didn’t notice. I check the back of my arm where I had rubbed against the wood, and yes – there’s a missing hole perfectly matching the swatch of fabric in the soldier’s hand. “The library where we found this is nowhere near these dormitories. Much too far to be merely ‘stretching your legs.’” The soldier stares me down condescendingly like he has much better things to be doing than catching a lowly sacrifice in her lie.

Harrington says. “Thank you.” I tell him. I take the book and sit down while the guys ask me where I want everything hung up. I tell them where I want certain items and which walls I want them on. I find the page that Harrington marked and I let out a gasp. It has a seven-piece set that I love. All the pieces are of a medium-coloured wood that has what looks like veins of gold and silver swirling within it. I can’t take my eyes off it. All the bedding would look perfect in the crib and bassinet. I show it to Brayden and I can tell that he likes it too.

The cover of the book read, “Arthur Zimmerman, Game 71. I found the second shelf on the case and scanned for my next book. Book thirteen had a cover of deep purple. I frowned at the woman looking up at me, scanning over her tangled fiery curls, the cinnamon freckles across her nose, and the way her emerald eyes seemed to twinkle at me from the cover. Her hair and eyes were the only familiar thing about her. My face was a bit rounder than hers, and definitely held a bit more baby fat. Her cheekbones were high and her lips full, conventionally beautiful in a wild sort of way. I felt that twinge of guilt as I looked down at the cover. “Sasha Burnette, Game 51.”

We should have more books about the Prime Omegas! I should try and find him, ask him about the book he has. It was different than the rest; plain, worn-down covers, regular-sized, and it looked as if it contained no more than 10 pages. Yet the contents, the story inside it was worth more than it looks. It was one worth remembering! I sighed, bracing my hands on the edge pf Councilman Marcus' bed, and clenched my eyes shut. My heart shattering upon seeing my Zannie fall down in tears.

no, I arranged his bed again that I had scattered, cause no matter how mad I was for burning my project up, I still didn't wanted any fucking trouble when he was back, so that he wouldn't kill me out of anger for messing with his stuff, but as soon as am about to quietly return back to my own lane to wait innocently, and yell at that dickhead when he was back about why on earth he burnt my project up, my curious eyes, yes, the same eyes that would make him kill me, drifted to the side, and I see a black book placed perfectly on the side of his bed "I didn't even know he had something like this, but it must have fell from under his pillow" I told myself as I picked it up to return it back to

I crouched down and pulled it out halfway to get a better look. On the Matter of Souls: Death, the Afterlife, and Everything Between “Seems useful,” I muttered to myself and pulled it out. It was heavier than it looked. The cover was dark green, the papers gone yellow with age, and when I cracked it open, dust came flying up that made me cough and wave my hand in front of my face. The first page had a beautiful illustration of Death on it, although the ink had browned. I turned carefully to the table of contents and ran my finger down the list.

She had to be careful with it in case the pages shattered on contact with her skin. She set the book down carefully on the floor and wiped the dust from the front. Immediately, she jumped in shock. There, on the cover, was the same image she’d seen on her grandma’s leather box, and in the Voynich manuscript. Only this time the strange face on the front of the book wasn’t so surreal—it was as clear as day. It was an image of Scarlet’s face.

Then my mind wanders off to Antonio words: "Is not really the matter of being a softy dumbass. I just find the story similar to what happened to you. I'm dead serious! You've got to read this book, perhaps after reading you can tell me if I was wrong or right" I don't know when my fingers has typed the title of the book and it's author and now I was at A****n Kindle page. In the page, the book cover is designed with white background and then it had a broken shaped hearts on the background with the title written in red 'Shattered Hearts' and it's author name below the cover Micaela Alvarado. Seeing this book again sent turbulence to my heart like in the afternoon when I'd seen it.

His wings still out, tensed, and ready, the rest of us holding our weapons. He moved so fast I didn’t even see him. Sliding past the others as fluid as water going around rocks in a stream he came for me, I felt his arm snag my waist and my feet left the Earth. I heard Devon’s shots fire and Kenneth soared into the air in pursuit. Cassi let out a scream and I heard the others calling my name as we ascended, until they were just specks. Kenneth closing in, aiming his crossbow at Shamshiel’s wings, his purple wings beating as he tried desperately to keep up, his face contorted in anguish as he realized he would not be able to help me. In the blink of an eye Shamshiel closed his wings around us

He backed me into the shelf, and suddenly. Thud. A book tumbled from the shelf, hitting the ground hard. We both froze. I stepped away quickly, cheeks flushed. Aiden’s breathing was heavy, his lips still parted. I knelt down and picked up the fallen book. It was old, with a cracked leather cover and faded gold lettering. Dust clung to its surface like it hadn’t been touched in decades. I wiped it clean, flipping it open. I flipped through the pages, one after another, but nothing stood out at first. My fingers were starting to cramp from turning the pages so fast.