Pages In Books Novels & Stories

"What the…" No way that could be real and not one fucking dream. Anyhow I turned my bleeding hand, somehow, the blood only went for the book and not fall on the ground. After awhile, a click from the buckles of the book jerked me off balance and I landed hard on the ground. The hissing sound as the book independently opened made my eyes grew larger. "Place your right palm on every blank page." Blank page? There was no blank page when the book pages began to flip back and forth on its own. But then, right there and then before my eyes, blank pages started appearing, sewing their pages against the spine.

Until she got to the page... Only it wasn’t there. Yeap, it was literally blank. Ariel had gotten to the five hundred and thirty-seventh page, and she had flipped it a tad too fast, eager to get to her desired number, but there was nothing there. And so was the other page number that followed it. “W-what the…” Ariel stuttered, trying to describe what she was feeling. Was it disappointment or anger? She peeped closer into the book, looking for any signs, and on close inspection, she could see that the pages had been carefully ripped off so as not to make it obvious.

I was pouting while signing some papers as my past time. It is kind of boring since Kuya River already prepared everything. I just hope it is not that extravagant because if it is, I would probably kill him. He's using my money for Pete's sake and I still have other important things to take care of which requires significant amount of money. I glanced at the book placed by the window. It has a leather cover and has over five hundred pages based on its thickness. To think that I have no interest of reading at this moment is just too surprising since I have been with them all of my life.

“There are some things written there that will help you understand your new self.” “That huge book? Reading it sounds stressful already.” “The book just looks big,” the man smirked and he got up as well, “but the contents only fill the first few pages. The remaining pages are blank.” Zara frowned. At that point, to her, everything about that realm was confusing and unnecessarily extra. As she scoffed, she asked, “Why would anyone make such a page? The writer could have just packaged the first few pages and saved paper.”

I bet that had to be a tremendous shock for her. I skim through the pages, finding nothing before moving to the next book, finding it equally uninteresting and completely foreign as I move from one to the next until I find one that’s binding is cracked and almost puffy in appearance. I tip it to the side, trying to discern if there is something inside the binding or if it is just naturally like that. A small press to the center of the spine and I hear the crackle of paper and I know I’ve found something.

She could feel the eyes piercing into her, like they wanted to snatch her soul. All of a sudden, the book began opening on its own. Slowly at first, but with each page that turned, the next page came faster. Soon, the pages were whirling back and forth like a tornado, a loud noise filling the room. Alexa panicked internally. Her heart was racing, almost matching the rhythm of the pages. Then, the book stilled. She inhaled, and exhaled deeply in a bid to slow her heart down. Finally, her eyes fell on the page.

With deft movements, my hands grabbed all the books that could most likely answer the questions that felt odd in my heart. Unexpectedly, the books I took amounted to dozens that were close to a hundred, plus the books had the thickness of a ten-language dictionary. Very thick books with some of them having slightly worn pages, the writing was a little blurry because of time. Someone who wanted to read it had to be careful if they didn't want to make a mistake.

I had just finished journal 3 when I stopped. “What am I doing?” I whispered and dropped the journal, “No, no, no. Please no. Stop.” I dropped to my knees and started to collect all the pages. In a frantic hurry, I picked up each page as if they were about to fade away. Pages had landed everywhere. On the bed, behind the cupboard, under the tables, even in the bathroom. I picked up 575 pages. Each journal was a book of 192 pages… which meant one page was missing.

She had been waiting to read the book, but she was interrupted by unfortunate events the previous night. Flipping through the first page, she continued to the prologue where the story began. Arlene was too engrossed with the book that she didn’t notice that she had passed a lot of time. The book contained 30 chapters and she had read fifteen chapters at a go. She stopped reading when she heard her stomach rumble, so she closed the book and checked the time on her phone, it was 4 pm already. She turned on her data to check her i*******m feed and the writer’s forum she was on for updates.

Smaller ones, thin like an old bible, yellowed with page break apart. Once there pages were successfully separated, I carefully put the knife down, not wanting to slice any pages or myself. The pages smelt like mould and looked ancient, they looked like they would be grimy to the touch but they felt like silk. The amount of small little pages were like a book of their own, how could this be hidden away for so long and no one notice it?