The History Book On The Shelf Is Always Repeating Itself Novels & Stories

Jones didn't think it was funny so I got sent off to detention as well for unruly behavior and damn, I needed the break from all the shit load of war crimes and historical facts he was there to blab about. Truth be told, history doesn't have to be repeated over and over again for it to be learnt. New history has to be made. Has anyone thought of that yet? Or is it just me that has had enough of these damn silly repetitions. It's becoming boring and all the way annoying. So back to reality of the situation at hand even though it's not exactly one. My legs were fully stretched out in front of me not to mention my relaxed posture against the chair. I let my eyes clenched shut for a moment as th

The books with broken spines. He was not at all who she'd thought he was. He was so much more complicated than she'd thought he was. "You have a lot of books," she said, moving to the shelves. "I read." "Obviously. What do you read?" "Whatever's in front of me." He came toward her with the water, which she took. "History, mostly. Architecture. Some fiction, if it doesn't waste my time." "What does wasting your time look like in fiction?" "Characters who are foolish for plot reasons rather than for human ones."

On one of the long tables rested an enormous leather-bound book. Its cover was blank. One curious apprentice frowned. "Master Cassian, why doesn't it have a title?" "Because it hasn't been written yet." He carefully opened the heavy cover. The pages inside were completely empty. "What is it for?" Cassian smiled. "This will become the Book of Generations." The apprentices exchanged puzzled looks. He continued. "Too often, history remembers only rulers and battles." He rested his hand gently upon the first page. "I want this book to remember everyone."

As I walk, I let my fingertips skim the edges of cabinets, grounding myself in the here and now, in the familiar coolness of metal and the weight of keys against my thigh. I can feel his gaze flick around, taking in the labels, the order, the sheer volume of stored memory. “This is… a lot,” he says finally. “History always is,” I answer. “People think the past is a story with a beginning and an end. It’s more like a landfill.” “That’s… a cheerful metaphor.” “Cheerful isn’t my area,” I say dryly. At the third cabinet from the end, I stop, crouch, and unlock the lower drawer. The key turns with a click I feel in my teeth. Inside, rolled plans nestle beside each other like sleeping snakes.

A small wooden plaque remained. ASHBOURNE BLOODLINE Nothing else. Someone had removed every record with astonishing precision. Not another scroll was disturbed. Beauty reached out, running trembling fingers across the empty shelf. Her father used to bring her here when she was a child. "History," he always said, "isn't meant to chain us to the past. It's meant to stop us from repeating it." She had laughed then, too young to understand. Now someone had erased generations of that history. Alex crouched beside one of the lower shelves.

I was not going to take the risk to find out. Jackpot! I had read the book over and over again but everytime I tried reading it again, it still had the element like it kept generating new spells or maybe I just had poor memory. I read the pages, the handwritten warnings and say the exact words a few times aiming to memorize it,

My mind went back to the book sitting on my nightstand. "The chronicle of the six?" I whispered, almost like a question. "Yes, that one. That book is history, it entails everything that happened and why it happened, history that a lot of people do not know about , humans and supernatural creatures alike" he said, pausing for me to take in his words. He continued almost immediately "everything that has happened and has been happening until now has been because of the deities in that book, their actions and their mistakes" he paused again, a sad and solemn look crossing his features for a while.

Now and Forever: The History of Pure Moon Pack I couldn't understand the reasoning behind placing all the pack's major history in one book when we could easily split it out, the Elders always spewing about following traditions. I paused, my eyes studying the cover of the book. My eyes flitted to the several books on the shelves. They were all covered with dust. Except this book. It was clean, too clean. Someone was here. Instantly I checked deep inside the shelf, but found nothing. My breath hitched. Where was my black ledger? I dropped the historical records on the floor, searching the entire shelf. How– how could this disappear? I was certain I placed it behind the book of historical recor

I shove it back onto the shelf, the motion stirring a cloud of dust that stings my eyes. Finally, in the dimmest section of the floor, I spot it: A History of the Mate Bond. Its faded red leather cover is cracked with age, barely holding the book together. My heart sinks as I pull it free. The book is massive, easily over two thousand pages, the weight of it pulling at my arms.

I glared at him, inhaling through my nose. "Take your ideology elsewhere. This ‘dusty old history’ is the reason I haven’t been eaten alive by any rogue wolves, or worse. These pages hold answers about the gene inside Tyler... about the witches who shaped our world. The past is everything right now.” He rolled his eyes, leaning against a nearby shelf. “Everything? You’re going to give yourself a migraine, you know that? Sometimes I think you read so much you forget to live in the moment.”