Gothic Books Novels & Stories

With quickened footsteps, she dashed to the shelf and found only two books still laying. Eyes closed and the outside world shut completely. "Focus and you shall get what you want!" She silently said to herself with hands that were raised halfway to the books. As soon as she opened her eyes, the bold, gold letters glowed on the backside of the two books. They began to mechanically shake and eventually fell from the shelf to her hands. "The Waters Beneath Will Deliver—The Winds Shall Redeem Me From NERIDA." "Why are there two books?" Amethyst halted to browse the black covered book. She only got a glimpse of the inside of the book which was empty. Turning to the gold-covered book, she glimpsed

Maybe that is the reason why I have no problem in communicating even if I don’t talk to people much. ‘This Time I Will Not Love You' This novel sounds so hurting. I think I won’t be interested in this since I have no love life or whatsoever. ‘To The World I Wish…’ ‘Reckoning Love…’ ‘Mystery Caller' ‘Untold Secrets…’ ‘Unfolding Secrets…’ JUST WHY THE HELL DOES IT SOUNDS SO SPOOKY?!?!? “Alright let’s look for other books to read...” I tried to calm myself just to not let me feel the spookiness in the titles of the books I saw. A very interesting book caught my attention. Unlike the others, it was… handwritten.

One bolt cutter later and she had the gate wide open for passage. The small space had collected dust over the years, but what lingered within raised goosebumps on her arm. It was as if once the gate was opened by someone other than Janice, an aura of uneasiness settled in her stomach and she felt unwelcomed. However, she pushed past the unwanted feeling and hunted through the stacks of worn out titles in hopes to find something. Anything for that matter. Yet the books she came across seemed more like grimoires than anything.

I moved like a shadow, hugging the walls, counting the breaths between my heartbeats. The moon bleeds red in three nights. Meet me in the catacombs beneath the library. The words burned in my skull like a brand. I reached the library doors—towering oak, carved with snarling wolves—and pushed them open. The scent of dust, decaying parchment, and ancient secrets hit me like a physical wall. The main hall was a cathedral of bookshelves, stretching up into darkness. Moonlight poured through the stained-glass windows, casting fractured rainbows across the marble floor.

My heart beats fast, and I feel a wetness between my legs that I can’t ignore. One gray afternoon, it was pouring rain outside. The library was dead empty. No one to bother me. I locked the front door early and turned the sign to closed. My hands were sweaty as I picked out my four favorite books from the back shelf. There was the pirate story with Captain Thorne, a tough guy who sails the seas and takes what he wants. Then the vampire book with Lord Draven, all dark and mysterious, with eyes that pull you in. Next, the cowboy tale with Buck, rough and ready from the wild west. And finally, the barbarian adventure with Garrick, a big brute who fights with his hands and conquers everything. E

“He’s clearly got you on drugs or something.” “That’s ridiculous. I’m completely sober.” “Are you, Camille? I should give you a test or something.” He checked out the other books. More vampire romance? Where were the werewolves? He saw none. “Wrong,” Dire grumbled. Don’t worry. We’ll get her proper books. Maddox browsed more of the vampire books and realized that they all had the same author. Grace Moon. That was an interesting name.

Small sparks of magic dance in the air, swirling around me, creating an atmosphere of expectation and latent power. I walk to my private library, where rows of ancient, forbidden books rest on weathered wooden shelves. Each of these books is a source of power. But there is one book in particular I seek, one that carries within it the weight of generations of enchantresses, the most potent and forbidden of all: the Bloodbound Codex.

Hunger felt trivial compared to what I needed to learn. The library greeted me with that same sacred stillness, tall shelves, dim morning light, the smell of age and ink. I made my way to the far aisles, where the older tomes were kept. My fingers moved with purpose now, tracing spines like they were veins leading to a heart I needed to find. I wanted books that went beyond psychology and mysticism, ones that whispered about power, not philosophy. And I found them. Tattered books bound in scales instead of leather. Pages that looked like they had once been soaked in blood. Symbols I couldn’t read but instinctively feared.

The windows faced the gardens, and the morning light was golden and warm and poured across the reading chairs like honey. She ran her fingers along the spines. Classics, histories, business books that probably belonged to Alexander. Nothing that looked even remotely interesting. “Where do they keep the fun books?” She moved to a different shelf where the light didn't quite reach. There were older volumes here—paperbacks mixed with hardcovers, spines cracked from actual use instead of just decoration. “This is more like it.” She crouched down, scanning titles. A thriller, a mystery and finally a romance with a cover so embarrassingly dramatic she almost laughed out loud. She reached for it an

She muttered, looking down at the photographs she still clutched. She found her way to the kitchen, found philberts hidden keys. He would change the spot he hid them once he found out she knew. She poured herself hot buttered rum instead of the cherry juice he would expect from her. The both had placed a ban on alcohol, and not to be taken before sleep if ever. She picked up a mystery novel, one titled of monsters and men abandoned on the counter. Perharps school literature? Non of the both of them read fiction. The stereotypical Gothic heroin is inquisitive and brave in these kind of literatures, she would be beautiful, but more than a damsel in distress, making her thus, the target of the