Original Burn Book Cover Novels & Stories

It took him an hour to figure out how it works hahaha. He soon turned the book over to check it's title. On the cover, among the pretty colorful gems and butterfly designs is a title of bold golden letters that brought a sudden shiver to his body. 🌹Ruby and Aurelius🌹

I returned a favoring smile to her by doing it genuinely before I took the book on her soft palm, an almost thick book with a blue cover. The book is heavy. On the front cover, there is a closed eye with long black thick lashes in a form of feathers placed inside a pentagon. Outside the badge has a wonderful abstract ocean and sunrise. Below it, golden embossed letters are shining to make its cover spectacular: BOOK OF A ZONER "Begin reading from page two to page five," Psyche said to me, stopping me in amazement. So I did what she wanted me to do. I flipped the pages until I reached the second page of the book. I started reading what's on it.

Ivy picked it up. The cover gave slightly under her fingers, softened past the point of protecting anything, and for a second she thought it might come apart in her hands entirely. It held. She opened it at the middle, where the spine had already learned to fall open, and the pages inside were worse than the cover — foxed brown at the edges, ink bled soft where water had gotten in and dried and gotten in again. But not everywhere. Enough of it had survived.

The box opened. The book was inside. Twelve copies, arranged in two stacks of six, separated by the cardboard dividers that had been placed by the packer at the publisher's warehouse. The covers faced up. The dark cover—the color of the accumulation, Don had said when they had discussed the design with the publisher's designer in September. The designer had brought samples. Don had rejected the first three. The first had been too black, the second too brown, the third too blue. The fourth was the color of the accumulation: the dark that was not the absence of light but the presence of all the colors together, the way soil was dark because it contained everything that had fallen into it over

Turning the cover for me to see he said, “So this is your favorite book, huh?” Wondering what had him looking so sly I focused my eyes on the cover and I immediately felt a rush of heat flare through my body. The cover had a picture of the naked anatomy of a man and woman embracing each other sensually and the title read, ‘100 ways to spice up your life.' “If this is what you were here searching for in the library then I don’t think I have any problem,” he laughed patronizingly, and flicking through the pages he stopped at one and reading the words on it he continued, “Try being intimate in random or unfamiliar places-”

Behind the panel was a small space, just big enough to hide something. Inside was a single book. It didn’t look like any of the other books in the library. Its cover was dark, almost black, and made of old leather that looked like cracked bark from a tree. The corners were worn down, and it had no title. Just a symbol. A silver moon. It shimmered faintly, even though the light in the library was dim.

Out of all the books he had organized, it was the only one that didn't look so worn out. Near... SKALLIET I'M GOING TO SHOW YOU SOMETHING ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL... Its large uppercase letters occupied a significant part of the book, its red color appearing beneath some spaces of the burnt and withered rose, arousing curiosity just like its name.

The cover was cold, embossed with a seal I recognized instantly—the same crown from the tower, but this one was depicted in gold, not obsidian. "They were never burned," I said, opening the book. The pages were vellum, filled with elegant, sprawling script that detailed the lineage of the temple. "They were hidden. And they weren't hidden by the Elders." I looked up at Eryx, my heart pounding against my ribs as I saw the name written at the top of the first page. It was a name I had seen in my own reflection, a name that felt like a secret I had been carrying my entire life.

I asked, touching a particular thick book. “That one’s about bloodline history,” he said when I held it up. “It was written by a half-mad seer,” he added. His answers were brief, but still it felt like a conversation. I wanted to continue, so I grabbed a book tucked behind the others. The book was so old it looked like it had survived a fire. Its edges were burnt, and blackened. The title had long faded away, and the cover was cracked with age. “What about this one?” I asked, pointing to it without touching. “Why are you keeping it?”

⸻ Almost deliberately. ⸻ Then a single object emerged. ⸻ Not a weapon. ⸻ Not a creature. ⸻ Not a god. ⸻ A book. 📖 ⸻ A simple book. ⸻ Floating in the air. ⸻ Burned. ⸻ Damaged. ⸻ Ancient. ⸻ Its pages were torn. ⸻ Its cover almost destroyed. ⸻ Yet one title remained visible. ⸻