Little Leather Library Books Novels & Stories

“I don’t think we’ll find anything significant in a human library.” They had walked to the topmost floor and took a turn into a secluded, dimly lit wing Nate had only been in once or twice. It was a section filled with thick, old, leather-bound books, the air smelling of dust and aged paper, yet it was surprisingly clean and undisturbed.

It was the scent of old, crumbling paper, leather binding, and dust. I reached inside and pulled out the contents. It was a small stack of three books. The leather covers were worn at the edges, the gold foil lettering faded to a dull yellow. I traced the title of the top volume with a trembling thumb. It was an old Italian translation of classic poetry—the exact edition I used to hide in the library rafters of the main Ricaforte estate to read when the world became too loud. The second book still had a tiny, faded pencil mark on page forty-two, where I had accidentally folded the corner years ago.

CHERRY’S POV The library in the East Wing was a tomb of expensive leather and silent secrets. I was curled in an oversized velvet armchair, the kind that made me feel small and insignificant, trying to focus on a book about estate law. Jasmine had jokingly called it my "New Bible," but the words were just black ants crawling across the page. My mind was elsewhere stuck on the heavy, possessive way Adrian had looked at me this morning, and the cold, miles-long distance he had put between us since.

"History books make my brain go numb. I prefer the wonderful world of fiction." Breyona led us down the hall to a set of dark double doors. Her parent's library smelled of crisp leather, fresh air, and a whole lot of dust. Each and every book lining the ceiling high shelves looked old and worn. I wasn't sure there was a new book in this entire library. While the bindings on some were holding strong, others looked as though they might burst at any moment. I half expected some of the books to disintegrate, spewing and scattering pages along the floor.

The librarian, a wise old man with spectacles perched on his nose, had greeted them warmly and invited them to explore the dusty shelves filled with ancient tomes. As Scarlett's fingers grazed the spines of the books, a particular leather-bound volume caught her eye. Its title, "The Prophecy of the Shifting Stars," called to her with an inexplicable pull. She plucked it from the shelf and dusted off its cover, revealing faded golden letters etched into the leather. Curiosity burned within Scarlett. She opened the book and began to read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. The words flowed like poetry from her lips, resonating deeply within her soul.

Claus said and she halted at the spot while Hayley and Marcus left. “What do you want?” “Tell me the truth about your friend Hayley Michael.” “What is the crow?” Justin asked as they walked into the castle's library. “Patience.” Lelia uttered. Such a magnificent chamber showered with gleams of the sunlight. It was a wonderful part of the castle, the bookshelves were as tall as the walls, and the books had special covers. They were mostly gold and red, but there was this one that caught Janeka's attention. It had a black thick leather cover and a golden seal on its top.

Any sensible person would think they could easily plan something evil. Because of that, I spent most of my time in the library. Sometimes, I was not reading but looking through the vast catalogue and picking out the books that sounded interesting. That afternoon, I had piled up twenty books on the table. I was still looking for more when the door opened and Leilani walked in. It was almost lunch time so I figured she had come to invite me for it. “Hello,” I said. “Hey,” she said, picking up one of the books on the table. It was The Graveyard book by Neil Gaiman. “This looks like a children’s book.”

The wall shuddered—and then split inward, folding open as if inhaling for the first time in centuries. Air rushed out. Cold. Dust-heavy. Scented with old parchment and sealed. Before them opened a vast chamber. Shelves stretched wall to wall, carved from blackened oak and bone. Rows upon rows of books stood untouched, bindings of wolf hide and scaled leather catching the torchlight like distant stars. Casius stepped forward slowly. “Gods,” he murmured. “It’s a library.” Amalia’s breath hitched. “No. The library.” Her voice trembled. “Shadowmere’s.”

It isn’t until Kella directs us into the library, sniffing down the multiple rows of books until, there, on the bottom shelf, we find a book that has very little dust on it. Leana picks it up and opens it, something falling out. I reach down to pick it up when I hear her gasp. I stand and look at her. She turns the book to me and smiles. “V,” she says, showing me the black V colored on the page of the book. I show her what I picked up off the floor. “Map,” I say, just as excited as she is.

As I flipped through the pages, reading her increasingly worrisome thoughts, the moonlight reflected off of shiny black leather. Sitting down the diary, I reached into the box, grasping the strange book. It was all black. When I’d first looked at it, the binding appeared to be leather, but it doesn’t feel or look like any leather I’ve ever seen. It was far too soft, similar to suede. The material seemed to be stretched over a symbol and as I circled my ring finger along the ridges, the padlock holding it shut popped open. “Not fucking creepy at all.”