Kindred Bookstore Novels & Stories

“Then don’t overthink it. You’ve had enough of men who make you doubt yourself. If Keith’s the real deal, you’ll know.” Mya nodded, grateful. “You really do sound like your brother sometimes.” Trina smirked. “Please, don’t insult me like that.” They both burst out laughing, the sound light and healing. After finishing their drinks, they wandered down the street toward the little bookstore next door. Inside, the air smelled of old paper and sandalwood. The aisles were narrow, lined with uneven stacks of novels and biographies. A cat slept on a pile of hardcovers near the window.

She made it through her classes, her mind half-distracted by the thought of the job. As soon as the final lecture ended, she wasted no time heading to the address listed on the pamphlet. The bookstore was tucked away in a quiet corner of the city, small but inviting. A bell chimed softly as she stepped inside, the scent of old books filling her lungs. An older man with kind eyes looked up from behind the counter. “You’re here for the job?” he asked. “Yes,” Amara nodded. “If it’s still available.” He studied her for a moment, as if assessing something deeper than her words. Then, he smiled. “Tell me, do you love books?”

Like watching herself in a livestream with a lag. She turned away. The bookstore was where her day officially started. Gutter & Spine — crammed between a hipster plant shop selling overpriced succulents and a vape lounge that moonlighted as a spoken word bar. The kind of place G****e Maps forgot, which suited Aria fine. She pushed open the door and paused. No chime. That wasn't right. She looked up. The little silver bell above the door was still there, still dangling from the hook. But it hadn't made a sound. Like the air was too thick for noise.

I answered, wondering what she had in mind. "Well, there is this really cozy little shop just down the street that has a bunch of books that you can not really find anywhere else," Cindy said, pointing to a store with a rectangular-shaped sign hanging over the sidewalk. "Why not," I agreed, "Bartise, you still want to tag along?" I asked, knowing he only came to get my phone number." "Why not? I wouldn’t mind hanging with you longer." Bartise winked at me, making my face grow hot again. Damn, it was getting annoying now.

"Hi. I'm Kim... from the bookstore." Hearing the word "bookstore", Jake was finally able to recall who this girl was. She worked in the bookstore where he usually bought books to use as references for his writing process... Or painting... an artist gotta do what an artist gotta do to achieve perfection. The internet can't always be trusted. Besides... Jake loved the way this girl called Kim, who worked as a cashier in the bookstore, looked when he bought random books about grave digging, self-made poisons and explosions, guns, and even exorcism. Thinking about it, Jake wanted to laugh.

He was by the side of the car in a flash before she could get the door open. "A lady should not get her own door" he said flashing her teeth. "What's that?" she let out in a flustered laugh. "Shall we?" he said anchoring his arm so she could drop hers over it. They walked in, and even though Kieran was not interested or really moved by books he could not deny how magnificent and beautiful the place was. "Hello, welcome to the International Bookstore what can I do for you?" the peppy lady at the front desk asked.

What I like about this shop is that it feels bright when you're having coffee while sightseeing in the spacious garden area with lots of flowers. If you don't want to look around, you can read a book, but there's a f*e for charity, well, it's okay, at least the money goes to a good cause, that's why you pay first before you take or read a book. "Are you okay, here?" I was suddenly startled by Ryker's appearance in front of me. I panicked and gathered my things, the notebook that was just lying on the table. "Ah.. y-yes."

And so, I found Kevin – human, kind, and seemingly understanding of my unique situation. A glance at my watch sends a jolt of panic through me. 9:10 PM. The party will be in full swing by now, and I'm still here, surrounded by the quiet whispers of countless books. I rush through the rest of my closing routine, my movements a blur as I count the till, shut down the computer, and flick off the lights. My heart races as I finally lock the front door, the cool night air a stark contrast to the stuffy warmth of the bookstore.

“Tuesday nights. The Spined Fox bookstore. We read everything from literary fiction to trashy romance. No judgment.” I took the flyer. “I’ll think about it.” “Don’t think. Just come.” I came. The Spined Fox The bookstore was everything I’d dreamed of. Old wooden shelves, creaky floors, the smell of paper and dust and something sweet from the café in the back. The owner, a retired English professor named Martha, greeted me like an old friend. “New face,” she said. “Welcome. We start in ten minutes. Grab a seat.” I sat in a worn armchair, clutching my copy of that month’s book—a debut novel about grief and gardening—and tried not to look as nervous as I felt.

Eliza, what do you think moves faster—your legs, or a radiation storm? At that, I shifted my gaze to the man still kneeling on the ground. "If you want to save people, I won't stop you." Then, I pointed east. "Two miles that way—there's an abandoned subway station. There are backup detonators inside. Since you're all so eager to help, why don't you go get one for him? It's only a few hundred zombies. You're kind-hearted and gentle—surely the zombies wouldn't have the heart to bite you."