G L Lambert Books Novels & Stories

The complete volume of the World Almanac on the top row, varying books about business and commerce on the middle, and a compilation of untitled white leather-bound books on the bottom. The white books caught my attention quickly. Weird. It looked specifically custom-made. I was almost tempted to open one of them when I found a familiar-looking book placed singularly at the far corner of the shelf. It was bound using black lamb skin. The title written on the spine made me frown as I read it. ‘The God’s Emerald Eyes.’

Probably the sea, by the smell of it. I do however, find the words “the ring”, the ink half-faded near the back of the book, and a few pages later, two pages which have become stuck together. Carefully, I slip my fingernail into the top corner, and then gently peel the pages apart. A single entry has escaped the ravages of the ocean. The writing is thin and looping, and unmistakably gran’s. My heart hammers in my chest as I read. 2nd February, 1959

Kennedy POV. The weather was bad, but I needed to get that new book, it's Robert birthday gift, who'd knew a grown up man would kill for the newest werewolf love book. I got into my car, drove carefully toward the local book store, they had the new book reserved for me. It was supposed to one quick drive, until I walked into the library. A girl was sitting on a bean bag, her blond hair was covering her eyes with overgrown bangs, she tried to huff them away from her face but to no use. She looked young, maybe she's just here with her parents, looking down at the book she had in her hands it was a kids story. Does she read for the local kids? Or is it just for her?

Zero After leaving the scene, I head straight to Club image to have a talk with Mr Lamberto. When I step into Mr. Lamberto’s office, the scent of cigars and old leather fills the air. The faint hum of the city beyond the tall windows gives the place a soft ambience, one that can lull you out of your worries. Mr Lamberto sits behind a mahogany desk, his expressions calm and unreadable as always. His sharp eyes settle on me when I step in and slowly follow my every step.

She saw a writing on the book: ɩ᪴ሪ 𝗁́ ꬺ᷇ɩ᷇ⅿ λ̇ⅿ́ሪ ⳋ᷇ ꝕỿ̇ꝙλꞃ᛫ ɩ᪴ ʖ̇ƽ ɩ᷇𝖻 𝗁́ ɒ́ሪꞃ ɒ̇ꞇꞇ ꝕ́ ꝕ᷇𝗇ⅿ ɒ̇𝗁 ⳋ᷇ ꝙỿ́ɩ᪴ꞃ ꝑ᷇ɒ́𝗇 𝗁᪴ꞃ 𝗁́ 𝖻᪴ꞃ́ ɩ᷇𝖻 𝗁́ ꞃɒ᷇ ɒ᷇𝗇ƽሪ ỿ́ሪꞃ ɩ᷇ⅿ λ́𝗇 λ�