Reflection Of Book Novels & Stories

- I responded back, burying my thoughts deep. My face flushed realizing that he had been able to pick up these X-Rated thoughts so easily since I had been so deep into it. The book hadn't helped at all to keep my mind on my task for the day. It had been the equivalent of "See Spot Run" in the Draygonian world. Nerrian rolled his eyes and closed the book. He set it off to the side on a pile of books that never quite made it back to his shelves. I don't think this will work today. Nerrian admitted shaking his head.

I cannot think of anything else… Just when I want to retreat my hand, a glowing shape appears on the surface of the mirror. I take a look closer as it clarifies, and I can distinguish a gold diamond-shaped pendant with an intense purple colored crystal at its center. As I place the journal on the sink to take my phone out of my pocket and take a shot, the instant I’m not touching the book, the shape disappears…oh, come on!!! I touch the book again, but there’s nothing this time. “I thought I would find you here, are you okay girl?” she looked at me with a troubled look. I guess I did look awkward, one hand on the mirror, the other on the book swearing at my own reflection…

After hearing the full story from my cousin, Franklin, I sat by the ocean, watching the sunset. At last, the revenge drama I had orchestrated had reached its final act. Now, it was time to turn the page and begin a new chapter.

Both were really awkward at each other at first but when they found out that both were reading the same book, they eventually got a comfortable to talk at each other. “So, you also read that book-” “Yeah, I got into it after a friend of mine recommended it to me.” “Isn’t it a great book.” “Yeah, I got hooked on it after reading the first chapter.” “bla-bla-bla” Both continued to talked to each other and enjoyed their conversation. “I was feeling an awkward atmosphere growing between our table so I was gonna try to start a conversation but when you brought out your book, I was just surprised to see a person reading it.” The girl said.

"Yes. There are parts missing." "True. Recently, I found a book that might help us with that matter." "Let's find it." "A red covered book with golden inlays." "I found it." "You have a sharp eye. All the books in this section are the same." "Let's start. There is a free table." Surrounded by rays of candles, the two friends started reading the dusty, old tome. The first one started:

We all sat down on the steps behind the auditorium during break, the spring air light around us. “I actually wanted to show you guys something,” Lucy said, pulling the notebook from her chest and opening it with trembling fingers. “I’ve been writing.” “Writing?” I asked, leaning in. “Yeah. A book. A real one. I finished it last week.” Dolly and I gasped in unison. “Wait—what?” I said, taking the notebook gently from her. The first page was neat, filled with flowing handwriting and a beautiful title: Reflections of the Mirror Girl.

The glasses perched on her nose reflected the soft radiance of the lamp, creating a tranquil ambiance in the room. As Veronica immersed herself in the narrative, the words on the pages became a soothing balm for her soul. The author's prose painted vivid images, and the plot provided a welcome distraction. The book served as a refuge, offering solace and a temporary escape from the tumultuous emotions that lingered in the recesses of her mind.

“That’s not how reflections work.” The figure tilted its head. Afnan’s breath caught. It hadn’t mirrored her movement. It had reacted. Independently. “No…” she whispered. The reflection took a step forward. Afnan instinctively stepped back again. The distance between them closed anyway. The air grew colder. “He said reflections weren’t copies…” Afnan murmured, her pulse pounding. The Keeper’s voice came calmly. “They are not.” The reflection’s eyes flickered. Silver, then red.

I heard him end the quiet, just now acknowledging how I lost myself in thinking. I lifted my head and stared at his scrutinizing look, and allowed my eyes to fall onto the book again before replying, "Certainly not, this book has it all: class conflict, politics, religion, women’s rights, and passion. It makes you think, it makes you reflect on what was and it makes you ponder how we got from one point to another." I expressed it without holding back. I found it refreshing to pour my mind out to someone who doesn't totally detest me.

I shut the door behind me, locking it carefully, then laid the book on my desk. The cover glimmered faintly in the dawn light, like it was alive. I ran my hand over it, whispering to no one but myself. “You’ll help me end him.” Then I opened it again. Page after page, I read until the sun rose completely, painting the world in pale gold. The book spoke of mirrors of thought, techniques to teach telepaths to reflect emotion rather than absorb it, to project calm even while their minds burned. It described meditation patterns, breathing cycles, and ancient chants meant to align energy with memory.