Leather Book Cover Novels & Stories

When people attempted to stop me to talk, I waved and said hello, but I kept the course to my destination. As I'd hoped, there was no one around. I unzipped my backpack and took out the blanket I'd packed, careful not to accidentally toss the journal on the ground. There wasn't anything ornate or special about the cover itself, although I was certain it had been expensive. The leather was soft like suede yet worn like a jacket. While I assumed it was new, it appeared aged. The words on the pages screamed at me to read them, but even if Jude hadn't written what was inside, I'd still covet the book for its beauty.

Viktoria’s POV I scanned the books, and I wanted to be careful with them as they didn’t look fake old. They were really old. As I pulled one off the shelf and I felt the texture of the cover, I dropped it on the floor! A shiver ran down my spine as I looked at the book. The cover was made out of skin, not leather! It wasn’t human, and it wasn’t an animal. I couldn’t place what kind it was, but it was definitely skin! I carefully picked it up and shivered as I put it back. I would have to be more careful and was lucky that the book didn’t tear or get damaged. No longer able to slip my finger over the backs of the books for fear I might touch something else I didn’t want to know about, I tried

It was bound with beautiful teal leather that caught my eye. I took it from his stretched hand. He took his seat once again and I looked at it. The book had a faint musty scent and surprisingly, it felt light as a feather in my hands. I fingered the gold letterings delicately, a part of me scared that I might disarrange them. It read Lost Memories. I couldn't take my eyes away from it. It felt like it called to me. I turned the cover over and it revealed an almost blank page. I almost did not notice the small writing at the very edge of the page.

Cole brings it to me, sitting back down on the couch while the kids roll around with their toys on the rug in front of us. Maeve is slack in Aviva’s arms, both of them fast asleep on the opposite couch. I smile at the image and quietly rip the paper away. It’s a book. Smaller than average and bound by fresh leather. There’s no title engraved on the cover. I look up at Cole, thinking he’d be smiling and a little pink in the cheeks in anticipation for my reaction, but he looks grave. I open it. It’s a printed rendition of the Book of Whispers.

But when she pulled it free, her breath stopped. The book was unlike anything she had ever seen. Its cover was bound in leather so dark it seemed almost black, though in the right light it shimmered faintly with hues of deep crimson. Strange symbols—curved, jagged, and foreign—were etched into its surface, pressed deep into the hide like scars. No title marked its spine. A lock, thin and ancient-looking, sealed its pages.

But what catches my eye is s a stack of books I’ve never seen before. They are in several different shades of blue, but all covered in the same material. It looks like a leather but more textured, maybe another animal hide? They have the most beautiful gold writing on them and I am just simply, drawn to them. I want to sit with them and hold them, I want to stroke the covers and open them but not just read them I want to devour the contents of these books. It’s a weird feeling. I feel as drawn to them as I do to Leo.

The object feels heavy, and the oilcloth is tied with a black ribbon string that looks so old and dusty. Carefully, I untie the string, my fingers fumbling with the knots until they are finally free. Next, the cloth falls away, revealing a book. A journal to be precise. Forcing myself not to get too excited, I decide to check the book first before drawing conclusions. The book is thick, black, and the cover is made of leather that has been treated to resist moisture and decay. Also, the leather has a glossy texture that catches the weak lights in the room.

“That still doesn’t explain how you know.” “It will.” Ayla moved to the table and opened the leather case. Inside lay a book so old that even I instinctively leaned closer. The cover was dark, almost black, with faded metallic markings pressed into the leather. Some of the symbols had worn away completely, while others remained sharp despite the obvious age of the thing. The pages visible along the side were uneven, yellowed and thick enough to look handmade. I stared at it. “Where did you get that?” “From somewhere it was not supposed to survive.”

And I knew London and Libbie were probably in on it, too. They were all on my list now. ________________________________________ The leather felt strange against my skin. It was cool and surprisingly smooth, despite how old the book looked. It wasn't just a book; it was a heavy, ancient tome that felt like it carried its own gravity. Silver clasps held the covers shut, the metal darkened by layers of tarnish that settled into the grooves of a strange, swirling crest. I didn't know what the symbol meant, but I couldn't stop looking at it.

I can tell Uncle Leo we aren't ready yet. 'I'm sure. I don't think it will help us, but it won't hurt either.' She said. I picked up the book. It was an old, deep brown, leatherbound book with the title in gold leaf. 'Tales of Olde'. It was heavier than I expected. Uncle Leo hadn't told me the title of the story so I skimmed the contents page. None of the titles mentioned an unnamed wolf. I sighed.