Novel & Cerita Folding Pages In A Book

At first, it was just… mass. Piled tomes, some leather‑bound, some cheap paperbacks, some thick, cracked hardcovers. They stacked themselves, spines grinding against spines, pages fusing together, bindings bursting, until they made a torso. Arms built themselves from arrhythmic columns of volumes, hands of splayed, stiffened pages whose edges glinted sharp as blades. Chains meandered out of the mess—hundreds of bookmarks, metal and ribbon and cord, weaving themselves into links that wrapped around the book‑body like restraints turned adornment.

The book had an entire thirty-page chapter on soul resurrection but not soul fetching. Slightly annoyed, Levy started to look through the books again and this time much more carefully as she stared at each page until she was sure that she wasn’t missing anything finally she found what exactly was wrong at the end of the third book. “ Someone tore pages from this book,” murmured Levy as she ran her fingers through the rough yet very clean edge of the torn page. Whoever tore the pages of the book, did it very carefully… in fact, they did it so cleanly that Levy would’ve never found what was wrong with the book unless she carefully skimmed through each page.

Even the page turning slowed, as if the room needed a moment to register the weight of the words. I didn’t move at first. My hands remained on the folder, fingers pressing lightly against its surface. I could feel the slight tension in them before I forced them to relax. I gathered my documents slowly, aligning the edges carefully, even though my grip tightened once before I could steady it. The folder closed with a soft sound that felt louder than it should have been. I stood. The chair shifted back slightly as I pushed it away, the legs scraping gently against the floor before stopping. No one spoke as I adjusted my hold on the folder.

“See? I told you. I can’t. This isn’t for me.” “Try again,” Di urged, voice trembling but steady with faith. “Just once more.” I swallowed hard. Fine. One more time. I pressed my palms against the cover and let my mind sink into the silence, into my own pulse. I pictured hinges groaning, pages fluttering. The book shuddered. Heat flared beneath my hands. My eyes flew open. It opened. Pages ripped themselves free, fluttering until one stopped in the center. The world held its breath. My chest hammered so loud I thought the lantern would shatter; the letters on the page pulsed under my palms like a second heartbeat:

“Then we make the opening. Tell me again what you want me to do.” “You must tear the pages,” I said quietly. My voice felt foreign in my mouth, edged with the criminal necessity of it. “Not all, just enough. Remove the inscriptions, the lists, the family ledgers. Tear slowly, carefully. Bring them back and we will piece them together.” His brows rose. “Tear pages? That will alert the librarian.” “It’s better than carrying volumes,” I replied. “A few pages, hidden in your satchel, can be reassembled. You can’t take a whole book without suspicion. I’ll make sure I have him occupied.”

"Here you go, My Queen." Mirra walked in to the chambers with the large book in her hands. "It took me a minute but I managed to get all the dust out. Misha showed me an excellent way to rid the dust from the book. All I needed was two willing friends to hold the cover of the book at either side and let the pages hang upside down. Many delicate swatting later, the book is as clean as it can be." I watched as Mirra walked over to the dining table and placed the large book in front of me.

Crystal muttered, smiling as she was led by Angelica to sit by the nearby desk, a few steps after passing the 3rd row of shelves. Angelica placed the book down with a thud before holding the hardbound cover of the said book and flipped it open, the contents revealing printed images with words citated beside or under the photos. The pages itself seemed to be slowly darkening due to oxidation and time. The pages were fragile as if they will be torn just by a mere mistake of flipping them in an unruly way, which explains Angelica’s delicate actions.

Flipping to the next page, I try to see if there's any indication of a title, since neither the front page nor first page have one. I don't see anything of the sort. Instead, I find a paragraph of ink marks that look similar to the one on the first page. "Is this a joke?" I flip to the next page and find the same handwriting, but the text in this one looks longer. Groaning, already starting to get irritated by the seemingly pointless search, I flip through some more pages, hoping that I find something meaningful. Rather, most of the pages of the book are blank. Just bare sheets of paper.

"What the…" No way that could be real and not one fucking dream. Anyhow I turned my bleeding hand, somehow, the blood only went for the book and not fall on the ground. After awhile, a click from the buckles of the book jerked me off balance and I landed hard on the ground. The hissing sound as the book independently opened made my eyes grew larger. "Place your right palm on every blank page." Blank page? There was no blank page when the book pages began to flip back and forth on its own. But then, right there and then before my eyes, blank pages started appearing, sewing their pages against the spine.

Why was the drawer disorganized, I pondered. I spilled everything and started gathering them up one by one. I quickly skimmed each book's pages before setting it down. I would take up papers, unfold them, and go through them quickly. I would put them back in the drawer after folding them back into their original shape. I pondered exactly what I was searching for. It would have been better for me that way, if only I had known.