Ruined Book Novels & Stories

My living had been turn upside down, and my staffs stood there powerlessly, there faces buried toward the ground. Jax was sitting on the sofa facing the entrance, holding a book I had left on the table earlier before going out. I walked forward and the damages got clearer; vases broken across the floor, and one of my favorite portraits shattered to the ground, with its frame resting by the wall. “The Unwelcome One,” he read from the book’s cover, slowly. “By Martin Crowns.” He looked up, at me, and I walked closer to him. “What’s the deal with you? Why causing all this mess in my abode?” I said slowly and my voice shaking—like I’d poured all my seriousness into that statement.

I stepped up onto the carved wooden stool beside the shelf, reached up, and pulled the book down. It was heavier than expected. Cold. As soon as it was in my hands, I felt it—a slight pulse. Like the book had a heartbeat. I sat back down in the alcove and cracked it open. Instant confusion. Half the pages were gone. Literally ripped out. Jagged tears where parchment should've been. And it wasn’t recent. The edges were aged, browned and curled like they'd been torn long ago. My heart sank. "What the hell..." I flipped through quickly, scanning for anything. Page after page was just ruined. Gone.

It looked as though the place had been ransacked, due to the books being scattered in every direction. I knocked around some of the books with the tip of my sneaker, surprised that not all were destroyed beyond recognition. I picked up one of the many plain bound books and looked at the cover. The top and bottom corner was burned off of the book, and the cover hung by a few threads, but there was still some sense to the handwritten words inside. The cover of the book read, "1836" I flipped the book open to a random pace, surprised to find the inexperienced writing of a child.

"We shouldn't" Nuella said, With a shrug Claude returned it then continued looking through the shelves. The library was smaller than she had imagined, with only a few shelves left standing. The rest lay in ruins, books strewn about in piles of decay. The air was thick with the scent of must and mold, and she could see cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. As Nuella walked over to one of the shelves and picked up a book, it crumbled to pieces and fell at her feet. Claude winced, feeling a twinge of sadness at the loss of such an ancient piece of knowledge.

I continue to smash and destroy everything within reach, each crash and clatter echoing the turmoil in my mind. A framed picture of Graham and me, once a symbol of our partnership, now feels like a mockery. I grab it and throw it with all my might, watching as it shatters into fragments. The glass cuts my hand, but I barely feel it through the haze of rage and despair. The bookshelf is next. I yank books from the shelves, flinging them across the room. The titles blur together as they hit the walls and floor with dull thuds. The room, once a place of order and control, is now a chaotic mess, mirroring the ruin of my life.

Some canvases were broken, as if in frustration. Next, I visited the library. Many of the books were old and hopelessly confusing. Most incomprehensible of all were the ritual books, which made up the bulk of his library. There were only a few novels, and judging by the dust, they hadn’t been touched in years. Evidently, Salem was not the sort of man who read for pleasure.

“Be warned.” This doesn’t just seduce you. It ruins you. For anyone else. For any future. For the life you thought you wanted. And once you’re ruined… there’s no going back.

**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.

Please rember to like my book and live comments and sugestions this will help me find direction when I loose inspiriration and I would love to write something that everyone loves to read thank you again guys lots of love love twoise♡♡

On the morning of the fourth day, I began the "Pilgrimage." Before I left, I went to the manor's abandoned library. It was filled with moldy books and broken furniture, and the air smelled of decaying paper. But on a shelf in the deepest corner, I found a special diary. The cover was dark brown leather, with "Book of Laments" embroidered in gold thread. I opened the first page and saw elegant handwriting. "Here are recorded the stories of every soul in this manor, their pain, their despair, and their final wishes..."