Gothic Books Novels & Stories

Seeing the stack of books piled up high on top of the table I knew I had found the right table. “Alec, I think we should go look in the kitchen. No one is back here.” Savenia said. “That my dear is where you are drastically wrong.” Once we reached the back table I watched as Savenia looked at several of the titles of the books piled on top. “History of the Werewolves. Psychology of the Paranormal. Ancient Greek Mythology. Witches and their Divine Power. Fae and the Woodland Creatures. The History of Dracula and the Vampire Methodology. Werebears and Shifters of all Kinds. Whoaaa. Those are some serious titles. I wonder who checked all these books, then lifted them here.” Savenia said.

“Thank you.” “Do you want me to assist you?” Tyron offered. “No need.” Gwen answered, smiling. “I think I can manage on my own.” Gwen walked back to her room with the book and closed the door behind her. She sat down on her seat and sighed, then glanced at the book. It was dark-covered, and the title was written in a language she couldn’t understand. When she opened the book though, she could read what was written inside. There were so many chapters of different spells, and most if not all made use of blood. The more she flipped pages, the more shocked she became. She didn’t know if she should feel disgusted at the gory acts or in awe of how it is carried out.

Twenty-six, with a curvy body she usually hid under oversized sweaters, soft pale skin, and long auburn hair that fell in waves down her back, she lived alone in her grandmother’s old Victorian house on the outskirts of town. Tonight, bored and a little tipsy from red wine, she’d found the old leather-bound book. Ars Goetia scrawled on the cover in faded gold. Flipping through it for fun, she’d traced a strange sigil with her finger while muttering the Latin words under her breath, thinking it was all ridiculous nonsense. The candles flickered violently. The air grew thick, heavy with the scent of smoke and something darker, sulfur and sweet musk. A low chuckle echoed through the room.

The books here were faintly covered in dust. As he reached out to the top shelf, his eyes fell on a familiar thick black book lying on the floor. The Art Of The Body. Before he could stop himself, his eyes flicked up and locked with Scarlett. She didn't look away, but a deep blush gradually spread across her cheeks. That book brought back memories, and for a moment, he forgot the unspoken tension between them. He looked away finally and pulled out several dusty books from the shelf. Two were about old werewolves, one about vampires, and the last one was about witches.

"Stay in the car, Stefan. It's a command this time" "Yes boss" he bowed lowly and went towards the car's direction. In turn, I turned and walked into the house through the large doors. Igor's house is majestic and that isn't something I'll deny. He likes all things fancy and gold. As I walked by, I saw two golden caskets right there, with a book in front of them. I walked closer to make sure the bodies were in there and just not a prank of Igor's. Before I got so close to the caskets, I could see the young boys' bodies, lying stiff. I turned and left, since I had nothing to write.

Emma said, walking deep into the living room. "Thanks." She walked to a set of shelves on the far side of the room, running her fingers over the spines of his books. A lot of them were classics, novels by Dickens, Voltaire, Dumas, Melville, and Hemingway. She smiled when her fingers ran over the spine of not one, but three copies of Mitchell's Gone with the Wind. There were modern novels, too, including Stephen King and Sidney Sheldon, but they didn't look as well read as some of the others.

With some effort, I managed to push it open, revealing an enormous underground chamber. My breath caught in my throat. The chamber was filled with rows upon rows of old books and scrolls—an ancient library dedicated to werewolf lore and magic. The walls were lined with shelves crammed with forgotten knowledge, and in the center of the room stood a large, intricately carved table covered in tomes and manuscripts. I approached the table, my eyes scanning the titles. Many of the books were written in old, nearly forgotten languages, but one tome caught my attention. It was bound in dark leather, the title barely legible: "The Lament of the Moon."

One volume called to her like a whisper against bone: *The Greater Veil: Finer Threads of Dominion* She pulled it free. The book was heavier than the black tome from her father’s library, its cover bound in something that looked like polished shadow-leather, warm to the touch. She opened it carefully. The first pages spoke of layered commands, of weaving intent so precisely that the dead obeyed without resistance, of turning even the strongest-willed undead into extensions of the caster’s will. Raven’s breath caught. She looked up at Victoria. Victoria read the title over her shoulder, then met Raven’s gaze. She squeezed Raven’s hand once—firm, reassuring—and nodded.

“You surely will.’ He whispers as the familiar hue of lights awaits them both in the middle of the path they are taking. Knowing what it is as they are aware of what draws it in front of them. Daniela raise her hand as the lights came down and surrounds her. One by one and with a click of her hand, it turns into the books that make the entirety of these dark and dreadful charades. With that, she names the books one by one that open and presented their heart, but only the clear four can be heard at that moment as it rings. “Blood Resonance. The Call of Death. Death Reincarnate. Shinzo Dimension.” As the book opens along with its prominent hue that also represents the prominent sins that are t

But Rafe had previously stated that this book was related to the secret of his changing attitude, so I decided to keep looking. From noon to sunset, the sun rises. This book has never been found; it appears to have vanished from this world. "What's happening? How can a book just disappear from the world?" I felt as if I'd explored every nook and cranny of the forest's edge and come up empty-handed. It was as if the book had vanished entirely. My heart then skipped a beat. I've never been so terrified. My hair stood on end, as if I were surrounded by something supernatural.