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

A dark, disdainful chuckle rose above the chorus of disdainful mutters and seemed to echo loudly throughout the chamber as the ancient voice spoke again. "Well, well, well... It really seems as though history is repeating itself, doesn't it?" the ancient voice almost purred but the thinly veiled fury and disgust in his tone was very much apparent. A hushed silence descended on the chamber as the tension in the room rose. "The apple truly doesn't seem to fall far from the tree." The voice continued, as Leopold exploded with rage.

“But I haven't found anything substantial.” “Don't worry,” I said calmly. “We'll find it. Sooner or later, that damn rune is going to show up, and we'll know what it means.” We got up to explore. The shelves, which were a labyrinth of unknown knowledge, surrounded me. Every book and every scroll was a piece of history: the history of the pack, the history of the wolves, and the history of power. So we searched in silence, and the only sound to be heard was the sound of pages eagerly turning.

Not in the slightest. I tried to not let it affect my mood and make me even more confused than I already was, but I could already feel the tension rising. I sighed in slight frustration and continued to look at the plethora of spines on the shelves. I could tell these books dated back from the beginning of the pack's lineage. Feeling their aura coming off of the books themselves, I knew, with one touch, that I could see the history play throughout my brain.

"What was it?" Clara told her. Not everything, but the framework: the Hollow, the loop, the mechanism that kept the story repeating. She kept Morwen's personal history out of it — that was not hers to share — and she kept the number out of it, because she'd found that number difficult to sit with herself and she saw no reason to hand that difficulty to someone else. But she gave Seren the shape of it: that this world repeated, that the repetitions had consequences, that the shadow in the corridor was part of the system that enforced the repetition.

I murmured to myself, as I had been doing for the past two hours, "Take a deep breath, take a deep breath Jaidyn. This is not real at all." I'm not sure how much time has gone, but I was on the verge of removing every book written in Greek from the last shelf. And it describes and offers the same information over and over again. A piece of information I refused to accept. Because it's not true. Exactly what I had spent hours repeating to myself.

Chapter 3 I stood in the centre of all the books in the library, my fingers trembling as I flipped through another ancient history book, the pages brittle under my touch. The ink bled in places, the words looked smudged with how old they looked, but the message was clear…royalty must marry royalty. Always. Without exception.

he muttered, skimming through the multiple books until he found what he was looking for, "like this one for instance." I took the vintage book from his hands and ran the pads of my fingers over the royal maroon leather that covered it. The book had no name, it's pages withered with age and turning a coffee brown. Everything in the book seemed to be hand written in neat cursive font. "Can I keep this book?" I quizzed. "You can read it, but it has to be returned. We keep these books safe because its the only books that hold our true history. I know that it's better to move on and look at the future but our past carries on to our future."

He casts me a cursory glance and goes back to distracting me. I huff and he looks at me again. The he tips his chin towards the book I'm reading . “What is that?” “A book.” He doesn't look amused “I mean what book is that? What are you reading?” “The history of veltrith Dominion. It's pretty interesting.” “Yeah?” “Uh huh. Do you know the gods appeared only once? Like since the breathed things into existence.” “Yeah. We were taught in school. They didn't tell us why though.”

There is a television, with a control with an infinity of channels, there is a shelf with an infinity of books, no matter how much he threw the control, the books out the window, or perhaps the television out the window, in moments, it returned to the same where he was before. The books seemed to be the same, the same days, stuck there, which seemed like a very bad joke that would take him to the same moment, the television showed the world around him, which he couldn't go, the books, they always seemed the same. same, but he never remembered which book he read, because all the covers were the same.