The Cemetery Of Lost Books นิยาย & เรื่องราว

"I'm sorry." Sethlzaar waved it away. "You did nothing wrong. So what about the lost books? If they are not in the archives, or the cathedral, or the seminary—because I'm certain the church wouldn't have stopped at the archives—then where are they? Perhaps they really are lost." Soartin snapped a finger. "They didn't," he answered. "And they aren't. Rumor has it that the books are divided and their locations are known only to the apostles." He moved his queen, making an escape Sethlzaar hadn't notice previously.

"Hey, what book is this?" The man who was focusing with the microscope lens finally lifted his face, "Isn't there a title there?" "Yeah I know, but about what? I've never heard of Aima before. Is this a book about sexuality? A porn book?" asked Gail happily. This man rolled his eyes, "Seriously, if you are looking for a book like that you can find it at Night Flowers," he said. "Then?" The old man straightened his stiff body then pushed his wheelchair and turned to face Gail. "This is a book about a lost history," he said.

Death replied. "Did he go to heaven?" Emily asked. "Yeah," Death answered. "His trial was an easy one," he added. "That's a good sign!" says Emily. "You're right. That's indeed a good omen," Death agreed. The two of them fell silent. None of them could keep up their conversation. The parade continued moving until it reaches the cemetery. Everyone gathered at a excavated portion of the cemetery's enormous lot. A priest arrived at the burial. He is carrying a bottle of holy water and a black book with cross on its cover.

Some canvases were broken, as if in frustration. Next, I visited the library. Many of the books were old and hopelessly confusing. Most incomprehensible of all were the ritual books, which made up the bulk of his library. There were only a few novels, and judging by the dust, they hadn’t been touched in years. Evidently, Salem was not the sort of man who read for pleasure.

I dump my bag on the floor and read through the shelf while pulling books out and mumble as I go. ‘Even a book can be dangerous in the wrong hands.’ ‘Ignite.’ ‘Hell is empty and all the devils are here.’ ‘You’ll make bad choices. Sometimes you’ll choose the best of bad ones.’ ‘Tuesday is Fucked.’ ‘Everything’s a game. And now it’s your turn.’ I have a stack of about 10 books before I abruptly stop. "Next isle." I say and we walk up and down the library isles. I climb and jump to get books off of shelves and Aidan has to catch me a couple of times when I fell.

The moon cast an ethereal glow, guiding our path as we traversed the familiar yet transformed streets. As we arrived at the ancient library, its façade worn and weathered, an eerie hush enveloped us. The door creaked open, welcoming us into a realm of forgotten knowledge and forgotten truths. Inside, the shelves were lined with dusty tomes and arcane artifacts, relics of a time long past. The air carried the scent of parchment and anticipation, as if the very books held their breath, waiting to divulge their secrets. "We must search for the lost texts," Malachi suggested, his eyes scanning the vast expanse of knowledge before us. "Hidden within these pages lie the answers we seek."

- He said. It was in that temple that was lost, there were no occultists, who in turn died in the last war. They never wrote because they were murdered before taking their manuscripts to the publishers, rather than taking the books with them. She was the only person to remember and to take the books with her, there was data that she collected. After all, that universe was without culture, when they were taken to a world of plagues and diseases that devastated that world. The world without culture had no knowledge, beyond what they wrote for classes.

The heavy doors groaned as they opened before me, and the familiar scent of dust, leather, candle wax, and ancient paper wrapped around me immediately. The compodium. Blackwood’s graveyard of secrets. My heels echoed softly against the floor as I walked deeper inside. Tall shelves stretched endlessly around me, crowded with books older than generations. Glass cases displayed relics of former rulers, broken crowns, ceremonial daggers, faded portraits, charms, scrolls, and objects whose purposes had likely been forgotten with time. Usually, the place unsettled me. Today, it felt necessary. Because somewhere inside these walls was the truth they had buried from me.

I wondered what kind of expression Simon would wear when he saw my bones. The car raced through the winding roads and finally parked outside the estate. He pushed open the door, revealing a quiet, heavy-aired living room. "Juliette!" he called from the staircase. "Come out!" The lack of response irritated him. He strode upstairs and kicked the bedroom door open. It was eerily quiet, the air thick with the stench of decay. My phone lay on the floor. Simon didn't even glance at it and went straight into the bathroom. Gracie followed, covering her nose with a handkerchief. The bathroom door was locked. He twisted the handle, and it didn't budge.

Susan nods at the woman, confirming it. "Yes, very. It's a function that was embedded into the library during its creation, by my mother, so no book could be lost, and all books could be 'called back' at the end of the year." Susan explained to the librarian. Irma Pince was almost drooling at the idea of recovering all the library's lost books. Susan chuckled looking at the woman's face. "It seems that you were not wise to this function." Susan said. Madam Pince nodded. "I have never read about it in any place."