Stephen King It Book Novels & Stories

A ferocious roar filled his ears, seemed to fill up the whole world, and he could feel the vibrations as the panther gave chase. As he started down the stairs, he tried to kick the door closed behind him but he also didn’t want to pause even for a second, and he didn’t think his kick was forceful enough to get the door closed all the way. He picked up his speed, nearly tumbling down the stairs, sure that he could feel the breath of the animal on his neck. He raced to the closest bookshelf, full of hardback volumes by Stephen King. Hoping to buy himself a little more time, he grabbed one of the thicker books—Bag of Bones—and hurled it toward the stairs just as the panther came into the librar

After resting for a while, they walked around and saw a bookstore which they both agreed to enter. She was reading the back of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen when Jacob asked her. “What do you say let’s read horror books? Like the ones we watched today?” “Eh? I’m scared. You go read first, then give me a summary, then I’ll decide. Haha!” “Roger!” as he picked The Dunwich Horror and Others by H.P. Lovecraft and IT by Stephen King. They finished book shopping, it was around three in the afternoon when Jacob invited her to go somewhere else.

He was reading the demon history book. The Lycan King took a deep breath. This was bigger than they expected. "This is the ancient book of demon rituals and history. It says here that the only way to resurrect the death angel is to shower his tomb with the blood of four Queens. The Lycan Queen, The Vampire Queen, The Dragon Queen, and lastly my Demon Queen. Which I haven't fucking found yet up to now! Motherfucker!" Lucifer slammed his palm in his mahogany desk. The wood cracked. On the verge of splitting in half, he snatched his laptop in time.

Octavius says, and my cheeks begin to burn. "But I mean...she's a werewolf. She is beautiful and strong—pretty much perfect. I'm...well, let's just say running for five minutes gets me pretty winded. The most interesting thing about me is my book collection," I mutter, and Octavius shakes his head before standing up. He moves towards me slowly, and goosebumps begin to form on my arms. My body can sense his inner animal, but it doesn't scare me. It excites me.

For that act alone, he deserves to burn in a special little hell. “I love this guy,” Stolas says, pointing at King’s name on the cover with a perfectly manicured nail. “It’s almost like frightening kids again. I mean, his horrors are so childish… ooh a big dog… ooh a scary car… ooh a clown. How the hell did he ever sell so many books?” As an afterthought, he added, “now there’s a true mystery. I wonder who he sold his soul to for that small miracle?” “Never read him,” I admit, trying to get the demon onto the reason I was here. “I hate to admit it Stolas, but I need your help.”

I choose a Stephen King paperback – Salem’s Lot - from the lower shelves and struggle to decipher the pages, my curvy body sinking into the cushy couch. I’ve always been more size 12 than two, and look like those dumb pictures of Eve – soft sloping stomach like van Eyck’s Ghent altarpiece, pert breasts, and curving hips for days. The words of my chosen book all turn up like mush. The leather smells like the cigars Samael smokes, the spice of his orange and musk cologne, and rain. It smells like him. I close my eyes, inhaling the scent. Memories of him from my childhood haunt me, the man cloaked in shadow, the owner of my soul.

Colin’s gaze falls to the book. “What is that?” “It’s our secret weapon.” “Yes, a book sounds really dangerous,” Stephen spits. “What is in the book is what matters,” I reply. “What’s in it, Alex?” Colin asks. “It’s the secrets of several supernatural species. Almost like someone researched them and recorded everything. Including all the ways to kill or harm them. Whoever wrote it had to have survived some really crazy things.” “Where did you find it?” Ray asks. “Was it in your library this whole time?”

She grins a little at my response, but I can tell she is holding back an even bigger smile. I stand up and walk back over to my seat to sit back down, and pull out my own book to read. I pull out my reading glasses, and open up a Stephen King novel I had picked up the other day while I was out and about. ‘The Institute.’ I am thoroughly enjoying it, and have been trying to read it every chance I get. I start reading, and start to get lost in the world of twelve year old Luke Ellis when I hear a small snicker. I ignore it, not thinking much of it, but then a few minutes later I hear it again. I finally look up at Jamie staring at me with full on amusement on her face, I stare back in confusio

“What the hell is going on here?” My rasping voice only accentuated the strange, forlorn silence of my home. Nothing made any sense. Nothing seemed or felt real. Hadn’t, really, since we’d discovered those two dead dogs and that altar in the clearing, and especially since yesterday morning . . . When I’d seen that damned book at The General Store. The book I’d apparently bought in a fugue state and then read multiple times without remembering anything. The book that . . . I opened my eyes, looked down and—feeling very little surprise—saw The King Wears Yellow sitting open before me on the den table.

Does she think I will come this far just to have a little useless chat with her on how her kids were doing and entertain her? "You are not serious, right? Because if you are serious, then drop this. The water you are talking about is the pure water that we teach to our kids in our witch schools. Do you understand what does that means? This is just a fantasy." Sarah said, bringing what looked like an elementary child book from the air. "Here, see this. The chapter-4 of this book. Read the lines," She said, and I turned the book towards myself before reading the lines.