Plotted Book Novels & Stories

he shrugged and kept on walking as he opened a door showing me the library with its vast collection of books. "Come here I want to show you something." He put his hand on the small of my back and ushered me further into the room. Gergo was fast to sniff under the big gorgeous windows. I gasped when I saw the books. So many of them, but not because of the amount. I saw hundreds of books upon entering the space. But when Nero tapped his pointer on the title, my eyes widened in pure surprise. "Oh...ohhh..." I was fast to take one off the shelf and open it. The Illustration of death. It was such a perfect title that my hands felt clammy, I have to wipe them dry before I went to one of the sofas

They didn't speak much and so I feel like I should continue my words to break this silence. "I am not that sure about what I am about to say but I've read this in some book I saw in the library. Although the credibility of that book is something I can't guarantee" I sat on the ground and pick up the pencil I had with me. Opening the small book I have, I started to draw on the blank page that is not pure white in color. They just keep silent and let me continue my drawing. "Have you heard about the Heminrey plant?"

“unlucky contestants…shelf two, book thirteen.” It sounded oddly like a personal note. My curiosity won out and I skimmed my fingers along the spines of the books until I chose one at random. I pulled out a medium-sized book, a deep shade of navy blue. Earthen twine was wrapped around the book, and there was a picture on the front. A middle-aged man with chocolate hair and dark eyes smiled up at me. The cover of the book read, “Arthur Zimmerman, Game 71.

No framed photographs of glamorous ex-girlfriends. No pictures from yacht parties in Monaco. No evidence whatsoever that women had ever come and gone through his life in the way gossip magazines claimed. It felt... Strange. I drifted toward a bookshelf against the far wall, running my fingers across leather-bound volumes on architecture, business, history, and urban development. The man apparently read books about city planning for fun. That tracked. Then something caught my eye. A single framed photograph sat tucked between two large books, almost hidden from immediate view. I carefully pulled it free.

I said, and my voice came out breathless. He watched me watch the book like a man unveiling something he’d planned in secret for a lifetime. “I wanted to surprise you,” he admitted. “I had it printed. It’s real now. A proper book, not just an absurd sketchbook. I thought it would be nice — something to read to them when they’re small, and something ridiculous to put on their shelves when they’re bigger.”

It was almost half-past eight when I came here. While waiting for Kevin, I wash the dishes and put the remaining soup in the fridge. I stand next to his study table and see the books he has. If anyone from school sees his shelf, he/she will be shocked. I know Plinio enough and I'm not surprised. Citizens of London, American Lion, Thomas Jefferson: the Art of Power, Flags of our Fathers, the Last Mughal, and many more books, are exactly what Plinio will read. I take out one and open it. 'Caroline' is written in cursive handwriting at the top corner. Below it 'Plinio' is written in the writing of a child, probably his own.

Although there is a remarkable difference in the number of words (37,000), there were no plot changes. I am currently rewriting Book 2, and there are minute changes to the plot. Things I wished I put in there after I had already started publishing. Once I've finished rewriting, the book will also become available. I will be writing some of the smaller books, as there are plot twists that make sense when those books are read.

The perfection of the scene was suffocating, but that was why I quickly noticed something out of place. They had a shelf of books here in the living room, and the book seemed to be arranged by colour rather than alphabetically. The colours were also ordered in shades, from darkest to lightest on the shelf. So the dark red book between books of lighter red, stood out like a sore thumb. Looking around only once, I stood up to investigate. When I pulled it out, I saw it was a book on pack history, unsurprisingly. But when I moved to put it back, I noticed the black button tucked behind the neatly arranged spines.

The closer I peek at the book, the more I see the bold title. “The tighter the pussy, the greater the bliss: a dick’s way to wet land.” It has the drawing of a monster cock in front of it, curved in the shape of a banana. My body’s already hot as I reach for the book. However, the moment my hand lands on it, something like a machine chimes. It's only then that I realize this isn’t a book. It’s a panel designed as a book. My heart thumps as a distinct groan echoes in the study, startling me.

She grabbed a thick book and pulled it off the shelf before returning to her seat. She placed the book on the coffee table in front of me so I could see it. My eyes widened when I saw the gorgeous purple and white designs on the book with dark purple lettering that read: Spell Book. “A spell book?” I gasped, running my fingers down the front cover. “Is this real?” She nodded.