The Burning Of Books Novels & Stories

I took my book and I lit my index finger with fire and tried burning the book. "They got us there". Zale said and sighed getting his own book and tried to toss it in the ocean. I stopped my fire and stopped him. "Well, as we are back to square one, let's just try to gather information from the northern part," I said and smiled at him. I put my book inside my bag again. It was pointless anyway, to burn the book. It is the book of origin, a book written by the Gods, it is protected from being harmed by anything, by anyone.

Then fell back into his unending abyss of silence. And while the fires licked out of control at Honeycomb Haven, spreading from the upright wooden box-hives to Cassie Patrick’s house and the outbuildings, the Gospel Book Store downtown blazed away itself like a beacon in the night—having been similarly torched—its hundreds of Bibles burning and melting, turning to holy ash inside the structure, before Glee Deadmond even had the chance to purchase a new one to replace her old.

I leaned closer, anticipation buzzing in my veins— Only to freeze. Books. Shelves and shelves of them, stretching from top to bottom. Old ones. Ancient-looking, with worn spines and faded gold lettering. Dusty, but organized with meticulous care. My shoulders slumped. “Seriously?” I muttered. Why warn me off if this was all there was? Then I saw it. A small, folded piece of white paper resting innocently among the books. My heart kicked. I snatched it up and unfolded it— And rage hit me full-force.

Then the poetry. Handwritten. Sometimes sonnets. Sometimes messy, jagged pieces that felt like they’d been ripped straight from his chest. One read: If I could be the rain that slips down your shoulder, If I could be the sky you look up at in rage I’d let you strike me down, again and again, If only to stay close to your fire. I threw that one in the trash. Three hours later, it was tucked inside the cash register. And then came the books. First editions. Stories I’d loved. Stories I’d once read aloud to Damien in the Blackwood library when we were young and tangled in something that felt like forever.

"And if some are dangerous, we deal with them after they become capable of choosing again." The Nameless woman looked between them. "You truly learned nothing from history." Silas shook his head. "We learned that people who believe they alone can decide who deserves to exist usually become the worst part of it." The books began to tremble. Luna pressed both her hands against the open pages. Fire spread across the shelves. It didn’t burn paper. It traveled through words. One shelf ignited, then another, until golden flames raced through the entire House. Outside, thousands of books opened simultaneously.

“Are we sure about this? Burning it all?” Lillian crouched next to her mother, her voice soft but resolute. “We have to. There’s no other way.” Claire nodded, tears brimming in her eyes as she lit the edge of one of the documents. The flame caught, slowly at first, then spreading faster as the pile began to burn. The fire crackled in the silent vault, growing into a steady roar as more papers were added to the blaze. But the sound of the approaching footsteps shattered the brief moment of relief.

He heard his aunt sigh, "Look, I'm not telling you not to search for the origin of Mages. I will see if I can find something as well. But Xav, don't consume your time and energy here alone." Xav paid no heed which made Jade glare at him, "You know very well that most of the manuscripts and books regarding dark magic and Mages had been burned like 9 centuries ago, right?" Xavier looked up at that. He knew the reason. The War had destroyed not only lives but also damaged a lot of property and to destroy evil powers, everything relating to it had been burned.

Now, I have turned those cinders into a blade. Bennett did not lose hope, desperate to hit back after losing everything. "You think you're the winner?" The email attachment showed my face crudely edited onto explicit images, with the backdrop of our family's hotel, sent to every young member of the prominent families.

“Yer damn books. That’s where you’re getting this foolishness from? Hell, I should’ve known. You sitting around all day on your fat ass, reading them damn books, stuffing your head with fool ideas about nothing at all. Why, I oughta drag them books out to the burn pit, pour kerosene over em, and burn em up, and another thing . . . ” I can’t exactly tell you what happened next, Doc. And I can’t exactly tell you why. Betty and me, we’ve had some knock-down drag-outs over the years, some real screamers. She’s threatened to burn my books before. Said worse things, too. So why everything went so hot and red, I don’t know. Maybe I was embarrassed, because after all, she was right, Doc. Was a waste

She simply gave them the truth and let it stand in the snow, and the men received it in silence, the flat broken silence of a people too cold and too hungry to do anything with a truth but hear it. Then she went back up to the study, because there was nowhere else to go, and she took out the book to burn it. That was her honest intention. The swollen ledger of buried bodies had cost her everything. It had turned Dain into a fuse, started a mutiny, and taught her that every secret in it was a door that opened onto a trap. She knelt at the small cold hearth with the last of the fire she would allow herself, and she opened the book one final time, meaning to feed it page by page to the flame, a