Neglected Books Page Novels & Stories

Her cathedral. She slouched into her best corner chair—stuffed, tufted velvet in tired blue—pullding out a book from her tote. A quiet night's reading before bed was now her ritual, and for tonight, she opened what was familiar and comforting: *The Light Between Oceans*. The book always bore its imprint on her. Loss. Forgiveness. Breaking and binding decisions. She opened to the top of it, and the world disintegrated. Somewhere in the city—several stories above, in a steel and glass building—Julian Blackwood lay in his dark, sleek bedroom, staring at the book she had given him.

Dan said, and I nodded. Soon after, we got to section B-2, and Beta Dan started pulling out some books. “I believe these ones are more likely to have what you’re looking for,” he said, handing me a book and another while he himself kept busy studying a page. I started to fiddle with the first book, scrolling page by page. The images and writing fonts were good, but not what I came for, so my interest dwindled. I believe I was reading something about rogues from the eastern side when I started to feel woozy, my eyes heavy and battling to stay open.

“IT’S JUST I HAD a different book in mind when ink spilled on this one, plus what’s left to do in a finished book?” They, of course, ignored me Completely probably deciding if I would not explain, they were just going to proceed. One of the three waved their hand above the inky darkness we were standing on, and instantly a book on a pedestal was in front of them on the floor. It showed off my title, ‘1001 Dark Tales’. I instantly held my breath, hoping they didn’t realize what that meant. But if they had, they said nothing. Instead, they just started flipping through the pages of the book, looking for which store to choose.

“For training.” I smiled despite myself. “Tell her thank you.” The maid hesitated. “Actually…” “What?” “She said not to thank her.” I frowned. “Why?” “You’ll understand later.” Strange… very strange. That evening, I wandered into the library again, this time not to read but because I wanted silence. I returned yesterday’s books. The librarian smiled nervously. “I found something else you may enjoy.” He placed a slim volume before me. It wasn’t about kings or bloodlines or prophecies. Its title read; Forgotten Women of the First Kingdom.

--- For the first time, they didn't have to solve anything. --- Save anything. --- Understanding nothing. --- They could simply be. --- In the afternoon, they sat in the library. --- Between the shelves. --- Where the years had once stood. --- Most of the books were still there. --- But one was missing. --- Just one. --- The book titled: --- Those Who Stayed --- It had vanished. --- Months ago. --- No one knew where it had gone. --- And somehow, that didn't bother anyone. --- For some stories wanted to wander on.

Some old collections rich people used to show off to their fellow rich people There was a large desk in the corner with an antique-looking lamp on top, the bulb seemed to be lit but not on, there were strange-looking books, some with leather covers, others paper, some old, some brand new with pages that fell open and wrinkled under my fingers. There were even some books with gold writing on the cover but none of them looked like they were readable, I picked up the nearest one, it was titled in Latin. Opening the book carefully, the first page was blank except for two black lines that started from the middle of it, it looked like someone had drawn something underneath them. They weren't words

Nadine blushed. * * * Back at Nadine's apartment, she saw the books Madam Yvonne promised to lend her, on her doorstep. There were about five of them. A note which said Take everything you read with a pinch of salt. Fact and fiction are in the mix was behind the cover of the first book. Nadine carefully carried them in because they looked like they were really old. She was so eager that without eating, she began to peruse the books. They were written by various physicians, historians and hunters.

She looks me over one last time before walking off, and I grind my teeth together in aggravation. Every time I bring up my major, I get the same looks. People just assume I am a wolfbagger, but I'm not. I genuinely find supernatural history interesting. I am not studying werewolves, so I can trick a werewolf into giving me long life or mating with me. I like learning about all of them, dragons, sirens, and fairies I sigh as I collect my pile of books. I already paid my tab on the cafe's app, so there is no need to call my disgusted waitress back over. I pull my jacket on and pick up my loaded book bag.

It was industrial, bolted and so out of place. He didn’t say anything, he just keyed in a code, waited for a soft click and then the air hissed the way do. The lights inside flickered to life one after the one, revealing rows upon rows of books, bound in leather, ribbon, and velvet. Stacks of brittle notes, sealed drawers, scrolls in temperature-controlled glass. Nirvana feet took action before she could stop it and her eyes looked around as if trying to assimilate everything and commit it to memory.

Something waiting. --- Determined not to be paralyzed by fear, I returned to the antique bookstore — to the stories, the secrets, the fragments of forgotten women. The elderly owner greeted me with a knowing smile. “You’re searching for answers,” he said quietly. I nodded. He handed me a leather-bound tome, its cover worn but strong — *Reflections of the Forgotten*. “Read carefully,” he advised. “Sometimes the past speaks through shadows.” --- I spent the night poring over its pages. The book told of women trapped in illusions, caught between worlds — ghosts of themselves, struggling to reclaim their true identities.