The Book About My Idle Plot の小説・ストーリー

My second book is up on the app titled “Cielo: Chronicle of untold truths” Please check it out, you'll surely love it. Thank you all, and God bless!

I get up quickly from the couch and make my way upstairs to my bedroom to get something productive done on my laptop. I surround myself with pillows and get comfortable in between and open my laptop. They say an idle mind is the devil’s workshop but the devil must be working extra hard because few minutes later, I’m scrolling through Marcello’s I*******m and gobbling up every information about him on the internet that I can find.

All I desired to do was dry myself, wear a clean set of clothes, pick up my favourite book—Tell Me Your Dreams by Sidney Sheldon—and sit on my ‘bed. Ever since I found that book in the trash a couple of years ago, it had entertained me whenever I got bored. What intrigued me at first was the title, as I also had a few dreams. When I started to read it, I was hooked. I used to finish my chores as fast as I could, just so I could pick it up once again. I liked to imagine myself talking to its characters as though they were my friends. Yes, I had read that numerous times, yet I would read it over and over again because that was the only book I ‘owned.’ Perhaps someday, I would come across anoth

Nyla’s POV I'm drawing a pentagram on my apartment floor with sidewalk chalk at midnight on a Tuesday because apparently this is what my life has come to. There’s a leather-bound book open beside me, old, as if it survived the Victorian era. I found it at an estate sale last weekend, buried under a box of porcelain cats, which feels like the universe burying a loaded gun inside a Build-A-Bear. It was quite an… interetsing book. The chapter I keep returning to shows a naked woman arched on her back on the floor, with a demon-man like being, with extra limbs, and an abnormally huge-sized cock burried inside her pussy.

But never mentioned anything about her identity to her. If you have further questions in your mind, don't hesitate to comment it down. I promise to make a free chapter where all your questions will be answered. Please check out my new book if you haven't done so. It is very interesting and I believe you will enjoy it! BOOK TITLE: Rejected But Claimed By The Hybrid Alpha. You won't regret reading it! Thank you for giving me your time. Updates resume ASAP Yours Fictionally, Chin Nua

--- At 4, Maya sat in her flat. She made tea. The new kind. It was just tea now. She didn't think about it anymore. She sat at her desk. The book was open. Page one. She'd been staring at it for hours. Her phone buzzed. Idris: Did you read yet? Not yet. Why not? She looked at the page. The first sentence. She knew it by heart. Because I'm scared. Of what? She thought about it. The weeks she'd spent with this book. The way it had become part of her. What would happen when she finished it again? What would happen when she didn't need it anymore?

I slowly went to sit on the sofa, on the spot where he was sitting some time ago. I stared at the first book. A yellowed cover, almost a few decades old, lay inconspicuously on top of the other books. I should divert my mind. What if Janet’s vision is wrong? I have never met an oracle until today, but I have heard that not everything they say is written in stone. Having nothing better to do or think about, I picked up the first book titled ‘Renaud pack’s Rise and Fall’ which was written by Al Mauvin.

Azrael asked. “I haven’t gone far into the book but it’s a story based on an actual schizophrenic patient the writer knew; it was meant to educate the public about various mental disorders in the mental asylum they call hell. I thought it would be fun reading a genre I’m not too familiar with.” I explained as I touched the front of the book. “I can recommend something if you get hitched. Utopia by Kelvin McLean. It’s about a nymphomaniac struggling to overcome his issue so that he can be in a happy relationship with the woman he’s been in love with for seven years.” Azrael recommended.

I just had to find it. And I had. I filed the information away without a flicker of expression crossing my face. My gaze remained fixed on the manicured lawns outside as if I were simply admiring the view. The book on my lap remained unread, my posture relaxed. The picture of a contented woman with nothing on her mind but pleasant thoughts. But inside, the loom was working again, weaving a new thread of possibility into the tapestry of my escape. Each mental note a stitch in a pattern only I could see.

The pages inside were thick and blank smelling faintly of woodsmoke and leather. "A gift " Julian said softly. "For the thoughts, descriptions and fragments of dialogue that you don't want to keep on a drive. For the stories that belong to you without an audience demanding a twist or a platforms algorithm dictating the pace." Elena opened the book running her fingers over the paper. It was empty. For a writer who had spent over a decade filling spaces the emptiness didn't terrify her anymore. It felt like an expansion, a open landscape stretching out toward an unwritten horizon.