Mary Book Novels & Stories

I pulled it free. Before the Last Bell. Sabine Varel. I knew neither the title nor the writer. This was excellent. Unknown books could contain anything. The first page gave me a woman repairing the damaged spine of a book while refusing to look at the man standing across her worktable. Her name was Mara. His name was Julen. Julen had apparently returned after several years away. Mara was not pleased. I turned the page. He attempted an explanation. It went badly. Another page.

"They'll use you." Mara let go of me abruptly and turned to one of the shelves. Her fingers moved quickly, pushing aside jars and bundles until she found what she was looking for. A book. Old. The leather cover was cracked, edges worn like it had been handled too many times. She brought it over and set it on the table. Dust lifted when she opened it. The pages were yellowed, fragile. Covered in ink that had faded but not disappeared. Drawings filled the margins. I leaned forward despite myself.

“That beef of a man who did a better scene than those girls on America's Next Top Model was the Mark of your teenage years?” “Yes.” “That one was the one who hid his cock in your pussy and almost showed it in your mouth?” “Elizabeth Mill!” I shouted shocked looking everywhere in the meeting room, hoping that no one had heard us, but only the two of us had remained in the place since they left us here fifteen minutes ago. “Yes, or no?” “Yes... Kind of.” “So, I keep the same answer: Nicholas Spark.” she shrugged before going to the windows to admire the wonderful view of the Hudson River.

Okay, let me explain, I said to her. When I was coming to work this morning, waiting for the bus, Endrick saw me and he persuaded me to give me a ride to the company but I declined. You what! She exclaimed. You mean you declined the request of Endrick to give you a lift to the company. 'Wow’, she added. Mary, don't you know almost all the female workers working in this particular company always wish for such an opportunity, even only once, but you declined. See Sandra, you can't understand. I said. Okay Mary what's there that I can't understand, she queried.

Steady was the only option. Marsh looked at the handwriting for a long moment. "I don't know," he said. "It was there when I found the book. I always assumed it was the same generation who hid it rather than burning it." He turned the book back to the annotated page. "But the ink is new," he said. "Relatively. Within the last ten years." Claire looked at the fresh ink beside Mara's name. She looked at the handprint on the back cover. She thought about a woman with her mother's face, standing in the entrance of a crowning celebration with a wooden box, watching a six-month-old baby with gold eyes.

I stood there for about 3 minutes with no answer, I had already knocked 3 different times, I was about to walk away when I heard the door unlocking. My heart felt like it had stopped when Marianna appeared in my line of vision. She looked horrible, but yet so beautiful, her hair was a mess, her eyes were red, and still I couldn't help but to notice the butterflies in my stomach at the sight of her enchanting face.

Another part was too curious. She slowly entered the open door. The interior was simple. A table of rough wood. A shelf full of glasses, dried herbs and carved dishes. A bed of braided mats. A small window through which green light fell. Everything was fine. Quiet. And there was something on the table that immediately caught her attention. A book. Old. Taken off. With a dark blue cover. Mara stepped closer. It looked bad at the place. Like something from their old world. Slowly, she took her fingers over it.

She looked at him. “Thank you.” A woman appeared. Late seventies. Thin. Silver hair. She stared at Mara Venn as though seeing a ghost. “Oh my God.” Mara Venn stepped backward. “Don't.” Elaine stopped. Good. “I wrote you.” Mara’s face hardened. “You wrote a character.” “Yes.” “I am not the page.” Elaine started crying. “I know.” That surprised everyone. “I know.” Mara stared. Elaine continued: “You were twenty-four when the novel ended.”

As if there was not already a perpetual fear in the hues of her eyes, her expression had suddenly become more terrified than ever. "Oh no…" "What?" "Move!" Mara jumped out of her bed, pushing Matthias out of the way. She dropped down to her hands and knees and frantically scanned underneath the bed. "What are you doing?" Matthias pressed, but Mara did not answer. She let out a deep sigh of relief as she pulled from under her bed what appeared to be an old and tattered leather-bound book. "What is that? I've never seen that before." Matthias stepped forward and took the book from her hands. Mara looked as though she wanted to protest before lowering her head again in shame.

I followed him step by step, looking around and admiring the artefacts, wallpapers and paintings. We moved into the inner part of the mansion, and proceeded into a room with large shelves full of books, three black leather chairs, an oversized seater and two love plush sfacing each other, Mary could be seen on one of the sofas engrossed in a book titled 'The Alchemist'. "Hello Mary," I called out, she jolted immediately and the book fell out of her hands. "Sorry," I said picking it up. "Miss Chi," she called out softly, getting up and staring at me weirdly.