Mind Matter Books Novels & Stories

she said. I looked down at the veritable mountain of books. The titles ranged from “Disorders of the Mind: Wolf Psychosis and Beyond” to “Hidden Illnesses and Ways to Find Them”. I had already read several of them, but rereading them wouldn’t hurt. “Thanks.” I shoved the last bite of my second sandwich into my mouth, washed it down with the rest of my coffee, then hopped down from the filing cabinet and gathered everything up. “I’ll get started right away.”

She said, instantly letting her guard down around me, which was refreshing, “What did you want?” “Just wanted to check up and see how you were doing.” I responded, sliding and starting my second cup. “Ah, well, I am doing fine, just researching,” Mia stated, raising a book onto the table, “I want to try and help Risa.” The book was a large one, with the title reading. ‘The State of the Brain Under Stress’ written by Hikari Mizutani. The name sounded familiar, much like the Howard guy, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

Tom could not fathom it, he was half-expecting that a lot of murderous voices will boom out of the book or a screech of writings in blood will start unraveling themselves on the book, however, the next he hear is a voice booming from his head as on that day he first touched the book; when it was arguing with him. "Okay," he could not afford to lose this moment. He had to keep focused and ask his questions so that he wouldn't go mad. It will be a huge embarrassment if his classmates hear that he was admitted into a mental home just because of reading a book. They would cheer and jeer at him, finally, he has met his doom since he will not allow books to be, acting all sainted up to make them f

But how could she even know the story if the book is not completed? "Maybe because she is the writer of the story", my subconscious mind called out. And of course, the idea was utterly bizarre, but then again this is exactly why it's called subconscious. A part of the brain which can never be realistic or logical. Sighing, I kept the book back in my bag and went over to the wildlife section. After finally screening the whole shelf for a few minutes, I finally got the one I was looking for. 'Wonders of The Wolf.' A chronological documentary on the lupus species.

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Without turning away from the window, I knew the exact moment Christos came into the room. I heard his urgent tone as he asked me what exactly was going on, and while a part of me wondered how he could know there’s a problem, the other part of me already went for its own conclusions. That damn book again! It’s as if everything I read so far was happening in my life and around me! But it’s impossible. Isn’t it? There is nothing like mind - links or whatever nonsense is in that book. Wolves don’t exist as humans! They are in the bush and forest, not among humans!

Like my own balls being sliced off. Also, I ain’t above admitting The Way of Ah-Tzenul was working on my head something fierce. The King in Yellow, Long Lost Friend, The Traveler’s Gate and some of Lovecraft’s books have worked on my head something fierce, too (though I can’t bear to throw them out, on account of how much I love books in general), but they wasn’t nothing compared to this. I ain’t ashamed to admit I haven’t exactly been in my right mind since I first opened that damn book . . .

But that was okay, not until Danny died. Because of me. That’s what they say. Instead of reminiscing those painful memories, I decided to sleep my exhaustion away. It didn’t take me minutes to fall asleep. “You’re the reason why all of these things happened!” “You are truly bad luck!” “You don’t deserve to live!” “You’re a monster!” “She died because of you!” I woke up sweating all over and breathing heavily. Where does that came from? Why am I hearing voices? Are they real? Or it’s just a dream?

“Princess? It's okay, everything is okay." I heard Alpha Rohan's voice keep saying that in my ear, as if he was guiding my soul, which was about to go astray. As he continued to whisper those words, I felt the warmth of his body carrying me into his arms. I cried my eyes out, closed to a wailing, on his chest. But… A person's mind is the most dangerous thing for every living creature endowed with reason, especially if it is on the lower threshold of conscience. Like a thought that suddenly entered my head right now,

Silence presses against me from all sides, heavy, almost tangible. I pull out my phone, using its screen to illuminate the titles. Some books focus on modern criminology, while others delve into antiquated practices—diseases of the mind now considered normal, but once subjected people to unimaginable cruelty. Torture, isolation, lobotomies—just reading the pages makes my stomach twist. I can’t imagine how many people suffered in the name of “study” and “science.” A vibration breaks my focus. My phone lights up with a message from Delilah: