Famous Fantasy Books の小説・ストーリー

She was getting bored. She went into the study to search for a new fantasy book. Alberto, her brother, added a new collection after fifteen days. He knew his sister loved to read fantasy books instead of love stories. She was running her fingers over the queue of the book's titles. "Twilight, Dead Beautiful, The Kiss of Deception, Relentless." She whispered the names of the titles, "City Of Bones," She pulled it out from the queue. She hadn't read it.

“Another masterpiece from DarkPen" “Your comics are just too good. I can't believe Sebastian later fell in love with Ayllsa. Though we were expecting" “A vampire and a witch. That is just the kind of novel I want." “ " I smiled seeing the readers all love my book. Fantasy is a genre I am based on and this is why I believe my next book is going to bring me more fame though not everyone will recognize me. Meanwhile, I closed the laptop and breathed a sigh of relief before standing up from the chair. I yawned and stretched my hand and back.

Books are oxygen for the literate. For me, there's no other way to breathe. Breathing comes naturally to living organisms. For a nerd with a perfect attendance record and zero friends, air fills my lungs, and words fill my head. I like filling my head with facts, opinions, and fanfiction. There's nothing better than reading Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings fanfics on a Friday night.

So you're a big Lovecraft fan? - Definitely. A thousand times more Cthulhu than any shining vampire. - She smiled. — I like some fantasy books. Writers like Laurell K. Hamilton and Patricia Briggs, who take ancient legends like vampires and werewolves and bring them to the contemporary world. There's this amazing author called SC Green who wrote these dark steampunk books set in dinosaur-infested Georgian London. My friend Derek referred me. He is always giving me new books to read. He's studying mythology, so he likes that sort of thing. — What is your favorite creature?

I fold my legs beneath me, and bring out my phone. A book can keep my awake so I surf the internet. Quickly I see a lot of fantasy books, but I’ve never really gravitated towards those. I don’t know what pushes me though. Maybe I’m just tired of being oblivious or my mother’s thesis, or the strange recurrences, I click on the first book I see and buy it. It takes only a second. I scroll past the forward and settle on the first chapter.

he asked, his voice quieter this time, as if afraid to disturb the peace of the shop. I glanced at him, “I love them,” I said, running my fingers along the spines of the books. “They’re like an escape—a way to step into another world, even if it’s just for a little while.” He nodded, his gaze lingering on me for a moment too long. “I get that,” he said, his voice barely audible. I stopped in front of a section labeled Legends and Lore. The titles immediately caught my eye: The Myths of Moonsdale, The Wolves of the Moonlight, The Moon’s Chosen.

“This one weaves mystery and magic, but underneath, it’s a story about trust and power.” Her face softened. “I’ll take it.” As I wrapped the book, another man stepped in, younger, sharp-eyed, dressed in a rumpled suit. His gaze swept the shelves with a hunger I recognized all too well. “Looking for something… thrilling,” he said, voice low. I leaned forward slightly. “Try The Silent Corner, it’s about secrets that change everything.” He nodded, brows furrowed, then murmured, “Secrets change everything.” The bell jingled again. A teenager, headphones around his neck, glanced nervously at the counter. “Uh, do you have any fantasy? Like with dragons?”

He was grossly outnumbered and the odds were in the favor of Nikjin and his army. She wondered what had become of her father; of Monah, the head warrior, of Seisa, and the other servants. How many werewolves have already lost their lives in this cursed place? How many more would have to die before this nightmare was over? Tears ran down her muzzle from her closed eyes. A silly thought occurred to her that nearly made her giggle out loud. If she’d known that she was coming to an era of civil war, she should have probably gone to bed with the dream stone and her father’s hunting rifle that was stashed in their attic back in Fairbanks. That would have surely tipped this fight in the werewolves'

“Fantasy?” Came the uncertain inquiry through the bullhorn that sounded out loudly amongst the hustle and bustle of the crowded pier. Raising my hand I picked up my duffel bag and began making my way forward. As I walked the men about me stared. They always stared. It was kind of nice and yet annoying at the same time. It didn’t help that my Russian born mother so enamored with her relocation to a new and in her eyes, ‘fantasy land’ of America had named me as such.

“Anything really. I like thrillers, horror, fantasy… and my favorite book… well, that depends, I guess.” “On what?” “What genre we’re talking about? In fantasy, I have to go with the classic Lord of the Rings. Neil Gaiman is another favorite, and of course, in horror, you can’t go wrong with Stephen King.” “Wow, impressive,” I replied, and Shaun looked almost bashful. “Yeah, my mom got me into a lot of that. She’s a big reader too.” We talked a little more about books before leaving the small restaurant. “Now, let’s see if we can fix our broken book,” Shaun said as he held my hand to the car.