Poem Book Pages Novels & Stories

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.

It's possible, right? So, the code has four numbers. 8,9,1, and 0. But...there is no 0 on the page numbers! I opened the book to page 8. I looked at that page and just like the other pages, there seemed to be nothing strange written there. I stared intently at the page and read some sentences on it.

she seems determined to make me fail this one. "Good. I'll choose a page of the book and you will have to recite it for me!" It was fair to the girls because they read the book on the week of the test, but she's trying to fuck me up. And she would if I didn't have a photographic memory. "Let's start. Chapter 27, page 389!" It's a huge book, with 752 pages. Watering my lips with my tongue, I began to recite every single word of it.

CHAPTER 3 Aika’s body was already trembling, pussy clenching hard around the cock buried inside her. Sweat slicked her chest, hair plastered against her damp forehead. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think—her moans breaking into sobs as the boy kept slamming into her. “Stop… please—ahhh, I can’t—” Her voice cracked, half a scream, half a plea. The boy above her growled, pinning her wrists to the desk. “You’re not stopping. Not when you’re this tight. Not when you’re dripping all over me.”

The book's title is 'Herbals of the Northern Ridge', and as I stare at the front cover, I wonder if it would have what I'm looking for. Opening the book, I begin flipping the pages but after a while of searching and not finding anything, I suddenly remember that it would be easier if I would go through the index page. So I close the pages I'd opened and go to look at the index page, runningy gaze over the words showing the chapter titles and content line by line. Then finally my eyes land on a chapter title which reads 'COUNTER POISEN'. Balancing the book in my left arm, I use my right index finger to trace the page of the title, seeing that it's at Page 284.

The cover is worn and the leather is pealing off. I open it. Each page is all crinkled as if it's been used a lot. I look through the book. Poems? Each poem is so meaningful. Did she write this? INNER DEMONS: It's like a shadow in an eternal night It does not let you free it does not let you live in the light It takes you deeper into an endless tunnel It ensnares you with chains It pumps it's venom into your vains The darkness does not let it's prey go easily

“What do you mean?” “I'd been able to fly a broom since I was nine. I'll simply be wasting my time in the class when I'd rather be consumed in a book.” “Good old Trisha,” Harold said with a grin. “Golden Lake's very own genius.” “There's no need for flattery,” Trisha said although she liked that they showered her with praises. Wilkes turned to look at Harold. “How about you? What do you have now?” Harold peeled the paper Trisha had given him open.

It was a feeling I get when I am near to the chamber of death. I heard the twisting of pages close to me, but no one was there. I looked up and saw a piece of paper falling down. The air reached its hands and led the dance as the paper moved delicately. It landed on the floor in slow motion, like a light feather. I bent my knees and grabbed the paper. It was a part of a book, and they tore the page apart. The paper was golden brown; it aged through centuries and was handwritten. I squinted and tried to read what they wrote.

**15 Years Ago** His Pov: I flip through the crumpled, half-burned pages of the only thing I have left—the only thing she couldn’t destroy. My fingers trace the torn edges carefully, like they’re made of glass, like they’ll fall apart if I hold them too tight. The paper is stained, corners smudged, some pages singed at the ends. But it’s still here. It's my favourite book. The only one I could save.

” Ashton pulls me down beside him and opens a giant book, at least three thousand pages long. ”Alright, I’m on!” I exhale sharply.