Reality Book Novels & Stories

Chapter 56: On a Throne Of Blood and Shadow The moment my fingertips skimmed the surface of the book, the world crumbled. I wasn’t falling. I wasn’t flying. I was unraveling. A million shards of reality shattered around me, warping, folding in on themselves, each with a flickering image—glimpses of things that were, things that could be, things that never were. And at the center of it all—

It's a story just for your enjoyment and nothing else. This story and plot are solely of the author's imagination. Nothing is real. If Any incident or people from this story have any similarity to the real-life people, characters, or incidents, then it is only a coincidence and nothing more. This book is a pure form of imagination. It's not real, any of it is not real. ©All rights reserved 2022

I suggested, already forgetting about the creepy thing that just happened. “It’s in the opposite direction, let’s just ask the driver to take us there” We walked to the parking lot, instructed the driver and he drove us to the library. Thirty minutes later, we arrived at the library. “What book are you looking for?” The librarian asked once she saw us searching through the shelves. “The hidden reality by Brian Greene” Pearl replied. I couldn’t care less of what the book was all about, so I went through the shelves where romantic and erotic books that’ll fuel my fantasies more, picked one and borrowed it together with the whatever that Henry had needed.

But he wasn’t. After moments of thick silence, Caitlin couldn’t take it anymore. She had to know. “Is it real?” she asked, cutting right to the chase. After a long silence, Aiden finally turned. And slowly, he nodded. Caitlin couldn’t comprehend what was happening. He was confirming her reality. This book. It was real. Everything was real. “But how is that possible?” Caitlin asked, her voice rising. “It talks about the most fantastical things. Vampires. Mythical swords. Shields. Antidotes. It’s thousands of years old—and it’s all in my handwriting. None of it makes any sense.”

At the center of it, in the place where the light is most concentrated and most still, there is a book. It does not look like what people imagine when they hear the word journal. It does not look like leather and ink and pages worn soft with handling. It looks like something that has existed for so long that it has stopped trying to look like anything in particular and has settled into simply being itself. Its edges are not entirely fixed. Its surface is not entirely stable. It exists the way certain truths exist, undeniably, uncomfortably, in a way that makes everything around it look slightly less real by comparison. It has not been opened in a very long time.

I had to have done that before, especially in a more reserved place. Zylah had only believed it because she was crazy, and had a great tendency to wish her literary novels were real. Even if I were lying, she would create a world based on my information, just to have a parallel reality in which to live. Even if she was suffering from vomiting, even if she felt the energy in the air, she still had a hallucinated glow in her eyes. The way she was when she started a new book and swore with her feet together that her favorite characters were real people and that she just didn't know them because she was an ordinary human.

POV: Wolfy A book was a dangerous thing. A sword could cut you. A bullet could pierce you. But a book? A book could rewrite the software of your mind. It could change the parameters of your reality without firing a single shot. I sat in the corner of the barracks common room. The leather-bound volume heavy in my lap. Across from me, Neoma traced the letters on the page with a finger that still trembled slightly from the aftershocks of the Wastes.

I whisper. This time, the tears don’t feel like weakness. They feel like healing. Like something finally beginning. ************************ Unspoken Desires - Book 3…. Coming Soon

Mariselle’s voice trailed off thoughtfully. Loren glanced sideways at her. “That sounds ominous.” “Courts are full of people wearing masks, sometimes it’s difficult to know who they really are underneath,” Mariselle replied. Loren frowned, though before she could ask what Mariselle meant, they reached her chamber. She pushed open the door. The room appeared exactly as she had left it. Sunlight spilled through the tall windows. Books rested neatly beside the fireplace. Everything exactly as it should be. Except for the single red feather laid carefully in the centre of her bed, too leathery and strange to belong to any bird Loren had ever seen. Beneath it lay a folded piece of parchment.

I'm nervous in a way that I haven't been nervous in years. This book feels more vulnerable than the others. The first book was testimony. The second book was about healing. But this book is about my marriage. This book is about Dominic and me and the specific work that we've done. This book is me saying to the world: This is what real love looks like. The first reading is in New York. The bookstore is packed. More people than I expected. People who've read my other books. People who've heard about the foundation. People who are curious about what comes after survival and transformation.