Midnight At The Bright Ideas Bookstore Novels & Stories

It wasn't until she noticed the strange book tucked away in the corner that she was able to distract herself from her thoughts. "I almost missed one," she whispered. As she walked over to it, she noticed that its cover was worn, and it seemed to emit a faint glow that caught her attention. Maybe it's how the moon perfectly acted as its own spotlight that made it seem so glowy, but it's not just that. She somehow felt a little hint of amusement as she stared at it. As she approached the book, she saw the shinny title written on it, Lunaria, and she couldn't help but be intrigued. The moonlight shining down on the pages illuminated the words in a way that made them seem to come alive.

“ you are right. But what could have done it?” “it’s too early for all these, and we cant see clearly right now. Let’s wait until we can see better and come back to it.” Hanson said after he yawned, obviously still feeling sleepy. “I agree” Anita said, and she turned to go find somewhere to sleep.. Damien hissed and walked away too. “hmm, this is troubling. Let’s meet back here when it is brighter.” Baji said before everyone walked away. Even after everyone walked away, he still remained and stared at the place hoping to figure something out, but there was nothing.

I turned slowly and Madam Pika was standing right there looking irritated, she frowned and walked away slowly. "What is wrong with everyone today?", Bubby said and Beatrice laughed from afar, "the party is 1 hour away, everything has been set, let's go have a cool bath, dress up and resume our serving duty, today is going to be real hectic!", Bubby said walking out with the bottle of wine, if Bubby was fine with her chores, why can't I be?. ////////////////////////////////////////////// POV(FIONA), I walked down straight to the beach in my uniform heading to the serving point, darkness had took over the day and the moon came to light it up, it was a full moon tonight, and it was somewhat spe

Maya takes a seat opposite us. “What happened hereel, Mr Bright? Why is everywhere so dull and quiet? It's unlike before.” I ask. “Hmm,” he puffed out a long sad breath. “Ever since you've left, the bookshop has become so lonely, no one to manage it. We tried getting someone to manage it but they couldn't handle it well. So we lost a lot of customers and people stopped coming. I couldn't handle all of it on my own.” He said with a sad smile.

Finch grumbled as he put the books in a bag and pressed the button that moved a shelf to reveal an elevator. I could hear the music and the sounds of pleasure when the elevator doors opened. It was too low for Hana or Pam to hear, but glancing at Malcolm told me the boy heard it just fine. He’s never been here but knows about it. It’s in this den of pleasure that he was conceived. By what incubus, I may never know, not slut shaming Kyrie, but the woman became a regular at Well Thumbed after I brought her here. “Miss Batista, you asked why we were in a bookstore. Time to find out.” I smiled, putting a hand on the small of Hana’s back to guide her to the elevator.

Come pick a bouquet from these Flowers in a Dumpster. Eidolon Avenue: The First Feast by Jonathan Winn—where the secretly guilty go to die. All thrown into their own private hell as every cruel choice, every deadly mistake, every drop of spilled blood is remembered, resurrected and relived to feed the ancient evil that lives on Eidolon Avenue. Through a Mirror, Darkly by Kevin Lucia—Are there truths within the books we read? What if the book delves into the lives of the very town you live in? People you know? Or thought you knew. These are the questions a bookstore owner face when a mysterious book shows up.

I tell myself to be normal for five minutes, to just be a person who buys tea and listens to people read, and not someone who survived a marriage contract, a diagnosis, and a city’s gossip machine with my name in its mouth. It's downtown and it's small. The kind of bookstore that stacks chairs between tall shelves and has a crooked stage made out of two platforms pushed together. There are string lights and a chalkboard that says OPEN MIC — 7PM — 5 MINUTES EACH — BE GENTLE. Someone’s kid is playing with a paper crane by the poetry section, and the woman at the counter is making a big deal out of steaming milk for a stranger because she wants the foam to look like a heart.

The address was a bookshop. Not open. Not at five-thirty in the morning. But lit from inside with the specific warm light of a place that had been someone's home before it was anyone's business. The kind of light that said someone was awake in there and had been awake for a long time. Elena stood on the pavement outside it with Alexander on her left and Emeka on her right and felt the specific sensation of a story arriving at the place it had been moving toward all along.

"God help me, I missed working with people who had nothing left to lose. Get out of here. Both of you. Go turn your phones off, buy some burner gear, and find someplace quiet. Midnight changes everything." They left the loft into the damp, biting chill of the midnight-approaching streets. The rain had slowed to a heavy mist, casting long, bruised violet shadows under the flickering sodium streetlights of the city's industrial fringe. They walked in silence for several blocks until they found a dingy, twenty-four-hour diner tucked between a closed auto-repair shop and a shuttered laundromat. The diner smelled intensely of burnt coffee, fried grease, and old bleach. A single neon sign in the w

No one has found the bodies yet, though, so theres still a lingering hope out there that they're alive. I sigh as I crawl under the thick quilt, flicking on the lamo beside me as I pull out my latest find at Barnes and Nobels: The Winter Garden by the famous Kristin Hannah. This woman's books are truly amazing. Then, after an hour long reading session, I find my eyes beginning to shut against my will, so I set down the book on the bedside table and shut off the lamp. ~ The next morning...