Leather Book Cover Novels & Stories

But one particular book caught his attention. It was larger than the others, and was just sitting on top of the pile of scrolls. This particular book didn't look like it had aged a bit. Its pure leather cover shone brightly almost as if it was just polished. It had an engraved symbol that looked really ancient on it. It was just the pages that were a little yellow as a result of age. The pull he felt towards the book was so strong that Lyon picked it up and immediately tmhe felt a spark of energy that made his heart skip. The book seemed to have come alive under his touch.

I got up from the bed and walked around the room, still no pain, how weird. I noticed the bookshelf and decided to take a look. There were so many books, some with older worn covers and others a bit more newer looking. I picked up a small red book and read the cover ‘A Lycanthropy Reader; WEREWOLVES IN WESTERN CULTURE’. I flicked through the pages and put it back on the shelf, a little too intense for some early morning reading. I picked up another one and read the cover, ‘The Garden of Eden’ by Ernest Hemingway. Not what I expected from a teenage werewolf soon-to-be-Alpha. I put it back and my eyes fell on a really older looking book. I pulled it out and it was big and very heavy. It looked

My fingers brushed along the cracked leather as I ran through the lot, stopping at one in particular. It had a jet-black cover. No title. Just the silver crest pressed into the leather, a wolf enveloped by thirteen daggers. I cautiously pulled the book from its place. A cloud of dust billowed up into the air. The weight of it alone reminded me why De Luca only touched this book when no other option remained. I stared at the black cover for a moment. I hated this book. Hated what it represented. The De Lucas of the previous generation ruled in suspicion. Through fear. Through blood. I would never turn into that.

​I reached the shelf, my chest heaving as I scanned the leather spines. ​First shelf... second shelf... third shelf. ​My fingers scrambled across the ancient leather-bound covers: The Valleys of Oakhaven, Covenants of the High Council, The Grand Chronicles of the Eastern Range. ​Right at the middle of the third row sat a massive, iron-clasped ledger bound in cracked red leather. Its spine was thick and hollowed with age. ​I grabbed the heavy tome, pulling it free from the row. ​With shaking fingers, I undid the rusted iron latch and threw the heavy cover open. ​The inner pages had been meticulously carved out, forming a deep, velvet-lined hollow inside the ancient pages.

The complete volume of the World Almanac on the top row, varying books about business and commerce on the middle, and a compilation of untitled white leather-bound books on the bottom. The white books caught my attention quickly. Weird. It looked specifically custom-made. I was almost tempted to open one of them when I found a familiar-looking book placed singularly at the far corner of the shelf. It was bound using black lamb skin. The title written on the spine made me frown as I read it. ‘The God’s Emerald Eyes.’

She let Miss J open the lid, showing a leather bound book inside. "My, what is this?" Miss J asked curiously. The book floated out of the box, turning over this way and that as it was being inspected. The stitching on the cover hummed softly like power was building up within it. Willow felt Miss J attempting to open it, but to no avail. "I've never seen it before. The text on the cover doesn't make sense to me either." Willow informed her.

There are drawings of the house, more of us. In the bottom drawer, buried under a bunch of pencil sharpeners and other tools, there’s a leather bound book. Almost like a journal. There’s a design on the front of it that nearly reminds me of the Midnight Protector’s logo but far more intricate. It’s hand sewn in the same color as the leather.

I opened it and found myself entering a smaller version of the library downstairs. There was no swirling staircase going up, up, up, rather walls full of books, some of which were only accessible via the sliding ladder off to the side. With my stomach full and heart heavy, I waltzed over to one of the shelves and scanned them, intending to pick a book at random. One in particular drew my eye. The cover was made of dark leather, embossed with a swirling gold font that was a bit hard to read. Tendrils of flame, interwoven with threads of shadow, danced up the spine and around the back.

The mirror would let him know when Zedekiel recieves the other half. He continued to search the library and it didn’t take long for him to locate it. A heavy, ancient tome bound in black leather, its cover etched with a single ominous sigil carved with red ink. The book itself gave off a sort of ominous energy. Cordin hesitated, dread pooling in his stomach.

Looking stunned and confused, I reached out to get it. I thought I would feel dust on my hands the moment I carried it but it was as neat as a new book, though it has had a long shelf life. The book’s cover was made of dark, weathered leather, marked with deep, faintly visible cracks and scars from age. And centered on the cover was an intricate metal seal in the shape of a mysterious crest, tarnished and dull, yet radiating a sense of power. Around the seal were faded engravings and symbols, barely visible but hinting at arcane knowledge. The corners were reinforced with old brass fittings, adding to its ancient aura.