روايات وقصص ضمن Good Old Books

we same in unison pointing to each other. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ------------- “There is no such thing as a good story. There is only something like a good book. A good book is where a reader finds complete solace and comfort; a way to escape harsh realities relating to his life” - R.A Higheels If you liked this chapter, please consider leaving a review!

Master Alejandro questioned suddenly out of nowhere with his deep husky tipsy tone while tilting his head a little to the right, still staring at his woman who still had her eyes down on her book, silently for few minutes. Captivated by the looks, she made the book her choose without having any idea what was it. Looking decent the book was said to be the best seller of 1930s, that's all she knew. Madam Genelia heard many famous mentions about it but never she got the chance to read it before, hence discovering it here in the library she grabbed it without any second thought. "Royal Bones are Holy Sinners." Madam Genelia was still having her eyes down on the book while she replied blankly to

“ I think you are mistaken. We only lend books. We don’t sell books.” “ This library is so old. It could do with some refurbishing. I really want this book. My grandfather loves to collect old books. I want to gift this book to him.” I said handing the old librarian a cheque of $10,000. “ Do you think you can buy me. I never sell books. Go keep that book on the shelf and leave at once.” He yelled. I would just have to come later and destroy this book. I kept the book on the shelf and left.

Luca looked amused but followed without protest. Inside, the air smelled of old paper and dust. Stacks of books filled every corner, and a sleepy cat dozed on the counter beside an elderly woman who greeted us with a kind smile. I wandered between the shelves, fingers brushing against spines — romance, poetry, mystery — stories that once felt too far away from the life I’d been living. I picked up a worn copy of The Little Prince and smiled faintly. “I used to read this when I was a kid.”

“Quiet doesn’t mean unbothered. Just good at hiding it.” We fell into silence. The only sound was distant thunder rumbling above ground. I wondered how long we’d be down here. Minutes stretched. My mind wandered to how close he was. How alone we were. “Tell me something,” I said finally. “Why’d you become a librarian? You don’t seem like the type who likes being stuck behind a desk all day.” Mr. Kane exhaled softly. “Books don’t talk back. They don’t expect small talk. I like the order. And the stories. What about you? History major with a focus on obscure trade? That’s not common.”

Late one night, I came across a post asking everyone to share their wedding photos. I was about to leave mine in the comments when I saw a pinned reply. It was a set of wedding photos of my wife and my cousin. My mind went blank. I clicked into the poster's profile. There were more than a hundred posts, and almost all of them were wedding photos. I scrolled all the way down and opened the first one. At the top of the comments was a message from my childhood best friend: [Finally public! I've been waiting forever for this. Wishing you two a lifetime together!] Right below it was my mother's comment: [You both look wonderful. Take good care of each other.] There were also comments f

“I got excited and thought that this weak old man can finally have a day for himself.” It’s true that Grandpa Malu was an old man, but there’s nothing weak about him. He has grey hair and a mustache proving his increasing age, and the wrinkles around his mouth and forehead were deeply carved. But his body looked sturdy and his eyes looked so sure making me think that gramps may not be weak as he says he should be. I approached the huge pile of books in one of the corners of his hut. This was my collection. I found this in the ‘Cursed site’ and brought it here so that my parents won’t burn it.

‘This is why candles would be really handy. I don’t even know what the book looks like, and so I am totally lost in here. Losing hope that I will not find what I'm looking for today, I just indulged myself with the touch of the books as I scanned them one last time. The single row of books at the very back of the book felt cold as little rays of light visited them everyday, the paperbacks felt a bit damped to touch and the hardcovers, mostly leathers, felt smooth and somehow crumbly. Maybe due to old age. And only then I noticed the nostalgic smell of ink printed on an old paper, both ageing as the time goes by. With the last book touched by my fingertips, I decided to leave for today and re

The only thing I like about Gray’s office is that it’s filled with books. Big, thick books bound in leather, with gilt-edged pages, texts on war and military theory, encyclopedic tomes on world history, classic literature, poetry. But it’s not a library collected after a lifetime of reading. It is a library that has been purchased for show - Drew’s idea of which books should line the shelves of a military man’s office. He has a similar collection in his own office. Most of the books have never even been opened, eyes have never rested on their words, fingers have never caressed their pages. They are as untouched and virginal as nuns.

"You can wait here, I'll come to Mr. Miller." I nodded, and did what I had wanted to do for a long time. I walked over to one of the large shelves as she entered a hallway at the end of this room, and I was surprised because I thought these books were just replicas made of styrofoam. In fact these books are really original, or books that are copies of the original books. Which, of course, is also old. I pulled up a book called Bleak House by Charles Dickens. One of the books was dark blue with an old engraving on its back.