Pore Over A Book Novels & Stories

The intentional neglect of this corner was a deliberate choice, a testament to the charm of the untouched and the allure of secrets waiting to be unraveled. Settling into a plush chair, Joseph cradled the book in his hands. The worn cover spoke of countless hands that had sought its wisdom, and the yellowed pages whispered tales of eras long past. As he opened the book, the fragrance of aged parchment wafted through the air, creating an olfactory tapestry that intertwined with the silent narratives within.

Chloe opened the book and her eyes widened. This book... She scanned the pages and then let out a huff of disbelief. Why are there empty pages?

~Tove I stare at the mess of words in front of me, withholding a groan. "This is so boring.” I look across the table. Keo has his legs crossed at his ankles, bracing them on the table’s surface. He himself is reading, although his choice of book is much less daunting than the one he has assigned me to examine. “It’s important,” he muses, flicking a page over. We have spent almost all day avoiding talking about what happened two nights ago while I read a book on Demon’s and their magic.

Peeking around the room, I ensure no one is in sight. Climbing onto the chair next to the bookshelf, I run my fingers along the spines of the books. Jessica told me that it would be the one with no writing. Finally, I find it. An old tattered book that has clearly been looked through a thousand times. Standing on my tiptoes, I carefully pull the book off the shelf and slide down onto the chair.

Books are meant to be read, not sit in a shiny glass case for the rest of its life. I still lay there staring blankly at nothing while tracing the beautiful design of the book with my finger, as it lays closely to my face. There is no rhyme or reason to this situation, little did I know the night I was almost raped, I would meet an even bigger obstacle than that.

My birth wasn't mentioned, the same as my death. When I was on the verge of giving up on reading, I took a last glance at the book and sighed. I closed the book, stood up, and got ready to sleep. Then, the book opened itself. It was a moment of 'didn't I close this book?' I paced around at short distances, took note of the page and closed it again. I glared at the book till I was on my bed and the book never opened - maybe it is my illusion.

Normal. I pushed open the heavy wooden door, and the scent of old books and ancient knowledge hit my nasal holes. The room was filled with shelves, lined with volumes of books and dusty manuscripts. The atmosphere felt charged with anticipation, as if the room itself held the weight of generations past. I let my fingers slide along the spines of the books as my eyes scanned the titles until something caught my attention—a worn, leather-bound journal hidden among the others. Its pages were weathered and yellowed with time. It looked like it had been preserved for literal ages and belonged to another time. It seemed like a shrine to the secrets of my family that I had been aching to learn.

"Can't use metal or have metal against their bodies because it's not natural." Hollyn's eyes widened as she got up and went to Tove's chair. She curled up in front of him, like one of the kids at the library. She was a special combination of innocent and so fucking sexy she made my teeth ache. "May I?" She reached up for the book. Settled it on her lap when Tove handed it to her. She skimmed her finger down the page. At one point she burst into laughter. Shook her head. Kept reading. "This is a very odd book. They have many aspects correct and many of them very, very wrong. Where did you get this?"

Not long after lying her body on the bed, she dozed off and became unaware now of everything around her. Inside his room, Boss Dar got a small black-covered book and browse its pages as if looking for something urgent on every page. After a few more browsing, he finally stopped flipping the pages of the book and focused his eyes on what has been written in the book. Then he furrowed thereafter as his eyes froze on that page.

Surely, it wouldn’t be out in the open, but he also wouldn’t tuck it away somewhere that would take years to find. Flora began pulling books from the shelves one by one, opening them carefully and flipping through the pages, hoping to find something—anything—that might give her a clue. Most of the books were old and untouched, dusty even. It was tedious work, and her patience began to wear thin as book after book yielded nothing.