Goosebumps Book Pictures Novels & Stories

Just a crescent white moon etched in the center of the cover. My fingers close around it. It’s cold. I glance back at Alex and Ava. They’re speaking in low voices, Alex watching her like a hawk. Good. I open the book, flipping through pages quickly. Hand written text in cursive with black and white pictures of symbols, and unknown diagrams fills the worn page. I squint my eyes and look through the small text until I find what I'm looking for. Mana Wolves. The words almost glow on the page. My heart skips a beat. This is it.

"Well, it's... It's hard to explain, the book explains it all." "Is it interesting?" She asked looking at the book cover, it was of a young teenager holding a lamp in what looked to be a dark cave, a bat was hanging of his hands and an old witch was behind him. "It looks interesting," She muttered. "It is," He assured. She nodded her head with a small smile and placed her iPods in back, resting her head back against the car seats, she closed her eyes.

One never knew when that information could come in handy. Plus, it’d help to pass the time and keep me busy. Sounded like a win-win to me. There was some type of writing on the front that I couldn’t read, but I could feel the power radiating off of the book. Strangely, Bex couldn’t feel it. I opened the cover, revealing an intricate colored illustration that showed a large silver wolf standing below a blood moon, its head tilted back in a howl. Light from the moon fell in rays onto the wolf.

My skin was beginning to prickle with goosebumps because this was becoming more than what I was comfortable with. At the desk, there was a book on it. I stared at the mannequin with the frown and at the book that was beside it, my fingers itched to find out what was inside there. I didn’t know what the fuck I was searching for but I needed something, anything at all to make sense of this mess. I stretched my fingers till I fingered the edges of the book, the mannequin stayed intact. I flipped the cover and the first page was blank. I flipped again and there was nothing in there as well. I flipped radically and there were still blank pages and-

he said. Inside were pages full of pencil sketches and short, clumsy sentences—none of them professionally done, all of them exactly him. There was a crooked family on the first page with two parents and a rescue dog named Bix. The second page had a sketch that looked suspiciously like our penthouse couch, with the caption: Where Tuesdays live. The book was a hand-made children’s story: The Little House That Held Tuesdays. Each page held a tiny adventure—the first puddle jump, the first burned pancake, the time a kite escaped and came back with a ribbon.

I felt a shiver run down my spine as I ran my fingers over the embossed title: Nightstalkers; Hunting the Creatures of the Night. As I opened the book, I felt a shiver run down my spine. The pages were old and worn, their corners curling up from years of use. The illustrations within were both beautiful and terrifying, depicting hunters fighting against the creatures I had come to learn about; werewolves, vampires, and other beasts of the night. As I read through the book, I felt my heart racing with excitement and fear. I learned about the different types of hunters and their techniques for tracking and killing these dangerous creatures. Fear overtook me as I thought of Dorian, fighting ag

The book had no images with colour, but I could already imagine the creature with bright glowing green eyes. Oh no.

Both options felt equally disturbing. I closed the book and slid it back into place. My breathing still refused to cooperate. My feet carried me to another shelf. I needed something that had nothing to do with me or corporate sins. Turned out the next shelf was full of children's books. Picture books about dinosaurs, trucks, cats. A whole series about a little hero with a lion mask. One of Ash's stickers clung crooked on one of the spines. I pulled one out. The first page already looked a little worn. In the corner of the page, there was a small scribble in blue marker. Definitely not Zane's handwriting. Big, wobbly letters.

Most of them have only one picture on the page and are a quarter of the size of a regular book. "Shit." I say quietly. "I can't believe it still costs ten bucks for a book that only has six pages. I can get a two hundred page paperback at the grocery store for the same price." Tiffany smirks. "But does your two hundred page paperback have fur like this touchy-feely book with a tiger on the front?" "It has fur?" I grab it out of her hands and begin going through it, touching all the different pictures as I turn the pages.

Hearing the sound from the shower, Karl could not help but imagine things and gulped. He casually picked up Danielle’s book on the nightstand. It was an exercise book, and the first half of the book was almost filled. As Karl flipped through it, he saw her doodles in some corners. A little blue elephant wearing a bow was looking up at a lion. The baby elephant seemed small, whereas the lion was tall and mighty… On the next page, he saw that the lion was trying to give the baby elephant a piece of meat, but the elephant was looking at the bananas on a tree off to the side.