The Book About My Idle Plot Novels & Stories

Nina chuckled. That was when I saw it. The slim volume lying open beside her glass. The cover was soft cream with gold lettering. My own book. The one I had written last year in the flush of newlywed certainty. *Goddamn it! You Are My Ideal Man.* I read it loud...... My hands moved without permission. I picked it up, holding my breath, and open the dedication page. *For my forever loyal husband.* Then the first chapter. The words I had written with such certainty blurred as fresh tears fell down my cheek….

Leaving Ismail alone in his condition didn't seem like the right thing to do, but staying the night wasn't an option either. Feeling restless, I wandered over to the bookshelf in the corner of the room, hoping to find something to pass the time. But to my dismay, all the books were about business, which was of no interest to me. It took a while, and I eventually found a book that was not related to business. But, it was something about rebirth or second chances. I gazed at him on the bed with a perplexed look. Was this tough, stoic man really into this kind of superstitious thing?

“IT’S JUST I HAD a different book in mind when ink spilled on this one, plus what’s left to do in a finished book?” They, of course, ignored me Completely probably deciding if I would not explain, they were just going to proceed. One of the three waved their hand above the inky darkness we were standing on, and instantly a book on a pedestal was in front of them on the floor. It showed off my title, ‘1001 Dark Tales’. I instantly held my breath, hoping they didn’t realize what that meant. But if they had, they said nothing. Instead, they just started flipping through the pages of the book, looking for which store to choose.

Secrets meant to stay buried. Sighing, I closed the book. I rested my head against the back of the chair and closed my eyes, overwhelmed. The only sounds were my own breathing and the steady, rhythmic pacing from Cassius's room. After a long moment, I sat up, resolve hardening in my spine. I grabbed the book one last time, flipping to the weathered page on Eldorain and burning the details into my memory. "Okay," I murmured to the empty room. "Ready."

As she’s about to leave the room, someone called. “Hey, I’m leaving the hotel. My car service is waiting,” she talked to the person on the other line. “I can’t wait to see you here. We’ve so much to see and talk about,” Noah said. Cela gave her room one final look. This is the place where she leaves her old self. “We wanted to go to a specific place and it didn’t matter if the road was rough and the journey was long. In the end, we found different places for ourselves but these places were the destinations where we were truly meant to go,” she said to herself. The fourth book begins at chapter 1 in Paris. The End.

“Because sometimes pride is too big for words.” Calla – POV That night, I placed both books side by side on my desk. River’s first novel. My second. And a third notebook beside them—blank. Waiting. Not for closure. But for whatever comes next. Because my story didn’t start with my birth. It started the moment I chose to tell it.

Junior called after him, "is all I was going to say." He read four chapters of the book that night at his small table under his single bulb. It was even better than he had expected, dense with real world strategy models and case studies of businesses that had started from nothing and become something extraordinary. He read with his notebook open beside him, writing as he went, pulling out the ideas that connected with things he had already been thinking about and building on them in ways that the book itself hadn't considered. He was on the fifth chapter when he heard something outside his window.

Chapter 7: Escapee In The Streets It was already past noon when I could feel the boredom creep in while I was reading a book in his mini library. Although the books were entertaining, I wanted to go out. The view of the city under the gray clouds before me was entertaining but I feel like I am wasting my time here. I should be working, and preparing for my future. Yes, a future that I own. I am still looking forward to it. I lay down on the couch and stared at the ceiling thinking of what had happened since yesterday. I am currently trapped in here. No work, no job, not enough savings in the bank, and well, married. Now what?

I sat up slowly, my breath misting in the air, and I watched the silver script shift and rearrange itself like water finding a new path. Three months. For three months the Book had been quiet, resting in my care, its pages showing only the genealogies I had already read a hundred times. But tonight it was awake. Tonight it wanted something. I swung my legs out of bed and crossed the room on bare feet. The floor was freezing, but I didn't care. The pull was too strong. The Book glowed faintly, and as I drew closer, I saw that the pages were no longer filled with names. They were filled with lines and shapes. A map.

Learn how to hide and protect yourselves, you idiots. I kept on flipping the book, finding something that seems so interesting. I love reading so maybe I can just read for now even if it'll just end up worthless. I have nothing to do anyway. I'll just continue my hunt to that bastard the moment the sun rises tomorrow. I really love reading books about history and maybe this will help me with my boredom and give me a lot of energy for my battle tomorrow. I read some pages till my eyes landed on an illustration which seems to be erased now if I'll touch it. It has something written in it but it's already blurry. It's visible how many years it has already passed.