Paranormal Books Fiction Novels & Stories

The woman climbed a short ladder and began pulling down a few books. “These should help,” she said, setting five large, dusty tomes on a nearby table. “Sorry about the condition they’re ancient. Let me know if you need anything.” “Thank you,” Anna said as the woman walked away. Rhea and Anna sat cross-legged on the floor beside the table, surrounded by the stack of heavy books. Their covers were worn, their spines cracked, and the pages yellowed with time. Each had a unique title: 'Tales of the Mystical Creatures', 'Powers', 'Hidden Behind the Voice', and two others with faded letters too difficult to read.

One time at work I'd even heard a co-worker called me the-Squidward-from-spongebob. Exactly why I hated them. That morning I'd just gotten up and, traditionally, said my good mornings to Sam triple zero eight, then the story stroke up. We were having a conversation of a book I'd just finished reading, 'No, Mr Harry Botter, do not turn me into a witch.' Believe me, it was a real book alright. The author was named Harry Botter, so he was the main character of his novel. Stories like that, what do they call them again? Paranormal stories, they were always fun to read. Partly because they were stupid, other part, they were nonsense. Nothing but ridiculous lies.

Suddenly, the book flipped open and the pages began to flutter back and forth. I stood up in shock, knocking my chair over as I did. The sound of the chair clattering against the floor broke Miriam from her thoughts. She grinned as she saw the book, laying open to a page labeled "Hybrids". "Miriam." I sputtered. "What was that? That book just moved and flipped pages on its own. That's not any kind of fae magic I've ever seen." She looked at me, amusement in her eyes. "I told you, it's my book, it responds to me. I'm spirit fae, and while I may not know much about what that means, I do know that I have a connection to dark magic."

I could only hope that she would have settled in again by tonight, because otherwise I would be allowed to sleep on the couch one night again - and it was really uncomfortable. Sighing, I leaned back and opened the completely tattered book again, which I actually already knew by heart. But I wanted to repeat as much as possible today so that I could get off to a good start tomorrow. I ran my finger over the familiar table of contents. Foreword, evolution, instinct, social life, physiology, reproduction, ancestry, stem groups and subspecies. How many times had I made this movement with my finger? I couldn't count it anymore, but it was like a little ritual I had to go through before I could s

I will really appreciate your engagements on this particular book 'cos this is my first Paranormal book. Also, please do not forget to vote and leave your reviews. Arigató #Sage Veth

The words seemed to leap off the page, filling the room with an eerie sense of foreboding. Everything written in the book didn't make any sense to either Stella or Morgan. They found everything in the book quite absurd. The book spoke of witches, dragons, angels, vampires, and the devil. They didn't believe in such a thing at all, weren't they just fantasy? If they were to interpret it, it only meant that Grandma Elizabeth was a witch while the stranger guy whom Stella had picked from the streets the previous night was the devil.

Flipping open the book randomly, my eyes skimmed over words that made no meaning to me. I turned around as heavy footsteps approached, only to find Yeti balancing a ridiculous amount of books in her arms. “Found some good stuff—” she paused as her eyes strayed to the book I was holding. “What is that?” “A book?” She walked past me, dropping the heaps of books on the table before turning back to me. “Let me see that.” She said, prying the book from my fingers. “Forgotten Beasts: A Study on the Supernatural.

I didn't want to have breakfast for fear of running into Darick. The door creaked as I turned the knob and entered the library. Dust particles still floated in the air, and I could barely see with the dimly lit chancellors. I walked down the aisles, holding my nose as the smell of musk filled my nostrils. I skimmed my fingers over the hardback books. Hmm, ‘Chronicles of the Blood Brothers.’ No, I don't want to read about the Blood Brothers' history. What's this? ‘Understanding your Supernatural Abilities.’

Just muttered, “Feel free to browse.” I nodded and wandered. The silence was thick. Peaceful. I ran my fingers along the spines—mysteries, war history, sci-fi. None of it felt right. I turned a corner and found myself in a crooked, narrow aisle. A handwritten label above the shelf read: “Folklores, Myths & Things Best Left Alone.” Something about it made me shiver. I reached out and picked a worn, black-spined book: “The Blood and Bond of the Wild.”

I should return to my chambers, should maintain the careful schedule that kept me safely within established boundaries. Instead, I found myself drawn deeper into the library's maze of shelves, following an instinct I couldn't name toward sections I hadn't yet explored. The books grew older as I moved toward the back of the room, their bindings more fragile, their subjects increasingly esoteric. Here were volumes on subjects that academic institutions would dismiss as superstition—treatises on lycanthropy, studies of lunar influences on human behavior, collections of spells that claimed to bind souls to animal forms. Research, I thought with grim humor. Someone has been doing very specific re