Search Book By Description Novels & Stories

“Go straight. It’s a glass door.” I follow her instructions and find myself in a large, rectangular room. The place has a musty smell to it. I look around, overwhelmed. How am I supposed to find anything in this place. The books reach the ceiling. I see an old-fashioned computer sitting just next to the door, and I make my way over there. It’s already open to the search engine, and I type in “Blood Moon Hybrid.” The system is old and slow, and it takes a couple of minutes for the book titles to begin showing up.

she rolled her eyes and went in the opposite direction to proceed with her main task. “I finally found the Non-fiction section!” she silently cried in joy after spending a couple of minutes walking around the huge shop, “I can’t believe it’s located in the far left corner, no wonder I couldn’t find it so easily.” she murmured. Her fingers trailed each of the book’s spines while muttering the titles, Valencia is searching for the book named, ‘The Golden Success’, a manual literature that made the world’s well-known businessmen and businesswomen massively successful.

"I'll be right here." I get up and wander toward the book sections. The library is organized by subject, with fiction on one side and non-fiction on the other. I'm not really sure what I'm looking for, so I just start walking through the aisles, letting my eyes scan the shelves. I pass through the science section, then the history section, then literature. Nothing really grabs my attention until I reach the yearbook section. As I'm browsing through the section, one particular book catches my eye. It's a black book, smaller than most of the others on the shelf, and something about it draws me toward it.

But she… didn’t flinch. Lena walked over to a little table display and picked up a thin, cloth-bound book. She walked over to him, holding it out like an offering. *The Quiet Between Lightning Strikes.* A poetry book. The cover was old and nubbly, the title scribbled in fine silver ink. Julian stared at it like it was an alien thing. "What's this?" "A book," she said, smiling. "I told you. I don't—"

I slip it from the rest, concealing it behind me. "It's alright, we don't care either way if you read it," he says, vacuous, without gazing upward from his undertaking. He is by all accounts inspecting the spines of each book, searching for a specific title that has a place with the book he wants. I move over to his side, noticing now the genuine likenesses between Felix and Liam; their almost indistinguishable looks aside from the scar and the hair. This time he hasn't behaved like a downer, which is an or more, and furthermore a side of him that is enjoyably new to me. He grins as he separates the book we want, a dusty one that isn't thick in any way. The side peruses Summer Kitchen: 100 T

I go the opposite way, painstakingly reading each and every title. “Callie!” Alice exclaims excitedly. “I think I found something.” I hurry over, seeing her pull a smaller black book off the shelf. There’s no title on this book, only a gold Baphomet overlaid on the leather. “The Book of the Beast,” I whisper, eyes lighting up. “I think you did find something.” She cracks the spine and I lean over, heart racing. And then the library doors open and close with a boom, echoing throughout the entire room. Alice and I both jump, and she quickly shoves the book into her cloak.

My heart leaped with hope as I approached the section, quickly pulling out a few volumes. “Well, here goes nothing,” I murmured to myself, selecting a particularly dusty tome. The book was heavy and worn, its cover adorned with faded gold lettering. I wiped away the dust and carefully opened it, the pages crackling softly in the silence. The satisfying scent of aged paper filled my nostrils, evoking a sense of ancient wisdom and forgotten knowledge.

The heat of her was overwhelming—wet, open, and was inviting him deeper. “You’re sure?” he murmured, his voice low with barely controlled need. She lifted up her hips, rubbing herself along the length of him, and coating him in her warmth. “Yes,” she whispered. “I need you. Please.” He pushed forward—slow, and steady—feeling her stretch around him inch by inch. Emily gasped, clutching on to his shoulders. “Jacob—oh my God—” He groaned into her neck. She was tight. So warm and so perfect.

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My words trailed at the realization that I had forgotten the name of the book. Damn! If they had just written the damn thing in English it would've been easier to recall. “Do you remember the title?” She asked politely. “Not really,” I responded. She said, “Well, do you remember anything that might help us find the book?” “I think so.” I said, “It has symbols and pictures; it's not written in the English language.” I described it as best as I could. She nodded and continued, “Your description matches a hieroglyphic book. Shouldn't be hard to find.” She moved to another aisle and I followed behind.