Gothic Novel Books Novels & Stories

It was then that she spotted the ancient spell book her grandmother gifted her on her fifteenth birthday and hope sprung forth. “I can think of only one thing to do to keep ye from his grasp and, possibly, reverse -or at least lessen- the bloodlust ye have,” Agatha said with an anxious tone. “I recall seeing something in this book my grandmother gifted to me. She was a powerful witch.” “Please hurry,” Kira struggled to say in a voice that echoed with a male tone. Agatha grabbed the spell book and quickly flipped through the pages while she warily moved away from her friend whose emerald green eyes were displaying flecks of dancing red light.

The warm glow is enough for me, as my feet shuffle towards the books. All first collections. My fingers reach for their spines as I go from row to row, my eyes getting even wider as I move. Jane Austen’s first collection. To Kill a Mockingbird. Pride and Prejudice. Crime and Punishment. Ulysses. The Great Gatsby. These had to have cost a fortune. I reach the end of the top row and grab a book. Jane Eyre. A door cracks open in a corner, but it sounds so far away that I don’t move. Until a second later when I hear footsteps right behind me.

Burgog wrote Lyla's name on a small piece of paper then took a duplicate and put it in a drawer. "Keep the card carefully. If you lose it, you will be fined." He warned. Lyla took the paper from Mr. Burgog's hand and put it in her pocket. The library had always been her favorite place. In fact, there was an underground library that contains books of witchcraf in her mother's house. However, the Gothic Academy's library was much larger. The books seemed to be countless. As she was selecting books on a row of towering shelves, her eyes caught the figure of a young man with shoulder-length black hair, talking to Mr. Burgog. The young man who Louisa had warned several times not to get into troub

I’ve lived my life, protecting myself from the world, from disappointment, betrayal and lies, but with her, I began to bring down those walls until I didn’t even know when my feelings developed into so much more without even seeing a glimpse of her. I skim over her collection, Motorcycle Club, Mafia... Disney Villain tales… and then there are the classics that she accidentally slipped out that she reads before denying she read them. I crouch down. They may be at the bottom, but the books have been read and I can’t help but smile. Jane Eyre, Anne of Green Gables, Pride and Prejudice, The Thirteenth Tale… Smiling, I take out the first book in the Anne of Green Gables collection, remembering ho

She pulls her pyjamas on, and once they’re both dressed Rosie takes down the glamour to put it back on the overhang. Caelius had taken the first watch, and was sitting by the fire reading a tattered paperback book. She makes her way over; he smiles up at her and puts a bookmark in and closes his book. “Interesting book?” He smiles, “Yes, actually. It’s a classic, ‘Il nome della rosa’; The Name of the Rose. It’s a murder mystery.” Celine nods, “I’ve had this a while.” She chuckles, and he smiles, “It’s not had an easy life, this book.” She nods,

I sit the novel on the table and flip to page 243 of a dark romance novel. The book I started reading yesterday and let me say it’s emotionally draining me, which might be the reason I couldn’t put it down till two in the morning, aside from the fact that it’s a masterpiece at its best. I found out long ago I thrive on things that drain me, the pain, the angst, it reminds me I’m still breathing because dead people don’t feel right? Or do they? ****

Various theories have the library being built there by aliens, by a civilization ten thousand years old, or by a race of vampires. Caitlin let the book fall from her lap, her mouth open in shock, and it landed with a thump on the floor. She sat straight up, feeling a jolt. She suddenly felt wide awake, as if she had just lost all sense of time and place. She picked the book up again, her throat dry, and read the words again and again, desperately, like a castaway starving for water.

I could only hope that she would have settled in again by tonight, because otherwise I would be allowed to sleep on the couch one night again - and it was really uncomfortable. Sighing, I leaned back and opened the completely tattered book again, which I actually already knew by heart. But I wanted to repeat as much as possible today so that I could get off to a good start tomorrow. I ran my finger over the familiar table of contents. Foreword, evolution, instinct, social life, physiology, reproduction, ancestry, stem groups and subspecies. How many times had I made this movement with my finger? I couldn't count it anymore, but it was like a little ritual I had to go through before I could s

It's been three days since she started delaying the inevitable event of being stuck with Dom in Canterbury. After minutes of pondering, she stood up and reached the small shelf of books she has. Her eyes locked on two books, Jane Eyre by Emily Bronte and Great Expectations by Charles Dickens. She had just finished reading Persuasion, and she was still on the assessment of her feelings towards the ending of the story. Maybe another book can take her mind off things. She decided on Great Expectations, gladly picking up the book and bouncing back to her bed, to enjoy another pleasurable surmount of reading a book.

“How’s the pain?” “I’ll live.” I grunted as I picked up the books she had dropped to distract myself from the pain of her checking over my injuries. “I found those on Stephanie’s bookshelf.” She chuckled. “Thought you could use something to keep you busy. I picked that one because the author has my name.” I looked more closely at the books she had brought, chuckling when I saw that one was titled ‘The Rogue Queen’ by Rory McCauley-Hayman. I waved the second book titled ‘Breaking The Bond’, in the air.