The Life Of The Book Novels & Stories

“They’re not even real, Sades.” Vida reached for the bookmark inside the pocket of her Burn’s Bar uniform and carefully placed it in between the pages. She took a deep breath and replied. “I know that. I’m just interested about their lives being a demigod, you know?” She knew that Tessa was genuinely curious as to why she was so invested in this book. Nobody actually really knows the real reason behind why she loves to read aside from Tessa. It was her escape from reality. Something she can call home whenever she hops from one apartment to another.

"Though as entertaining this is, the affairs of the still living are none of my concern. You'll have to speak to my opposite; Life." "So how do I find Life?" I asked, and Death shrugged, twirling his scythe as if it were a baton. "No clue. I deal with matters of death." "...you're of no help, you know that?" "I've upheld my deal, so I think I've helped way more than necessary. I'm just glad I didn't go fishing for your soul. Otherwise, I would've declined." My jaw drops at his comment, and he shrugs, fading away.

And how much it contained. The year that had preceded it. The fire that had produced it. The woman it had required her to become. The marriage it had required both of them to remake from the complete account of what was real. The children who were learning, from living inside it, what honesty and accountability and repair looked like in practice. The book that was in the world and the women reading it and the things it was doing in those readings that she would never fully know but could feel, in the way she felt things that mattered, as real. The ordinary life was full.

⸻ Yet it contained no record of her. ⸻ 🌙 The Keeper The woman walked slowly between the shelves. ⸻ As she moved, books floated around her. ✨📖✨ ⸻ Each book opened briefly. ⸻ Showing fragments of countless lives. ⸻ A child learning to walk. A king losing a kingdom. A mother singing a lullaby. A lonely boy finding friendship. ⸻ Stories. ⸻ Nothing but stories. ⸻ Yet they felt more important than galaxies.

Bethany lowered her head and cried for a long time. I sent her the studio's address and contact information, then stood. "Work hard. Stop thinking about things you shouldn't. Life is long. Don't waste your time on someone else's man." I turned and left. Outside the cafe, the sunlight was bright. The comments exploded. [The villainess repaid resentment with kindness???] [I'm crying. She helped Bethany.] ["You don't even count as a supporting character in my life" is so fierce.]

Not since the night he couldn't sleep. He opened it hesitantly. Flipped it open. And read a passage he'd marked unintentionally: *"Some people come into your life like a breeze. Others, a storm. And some, without a word, build a house in your silence."* Julian closed the book. He had no clue what Lena Carter was doing to him. But whatever it was… It wasn't over.

In my previous life, Derick had his fling with his so-called 'sister' Jasmine before he ever knew me. All the while, unaware of the truth, I was running the mafia business and raising their child myself. They were busy dreaming about their love child and blowing through the cash I made, which ended up costing my son his life. I poured my soul into making their kid my successor, and they just sat back and enjoyed the spoils. My boy and I? We were just pawns in their perfect life! Fate handed me a do-over, and this time, Derrick and Jasmine would be dealt with a well-deserved retribution!

“You’re making me feel stupid!” That made me laugh. You can’t blame me, though. If someone will ask me why don’t I add humor in talking or basically in my life, I will just point my books then turn away. Simply, my life only revolves in my books. So, why should I add humor in it? It’s not like it’s a requirement for you to stay alive. My friends know how deep my mindset is. For me, mindset is everything. Even them couldn’t catch up with the way I view everything. They’re having a hard time understanding those. Turns out for them I’m a whole mystery that no can be able to solve.

When the left hand of the man touched the thick book, the man noted that the book was also very heavy. He took one last strong pull at the wine and began reading what was written inside. It was of the woman's own handwriting as she portrayed and poured all her veiled feelings within the book. Although she lived a long life, the woman did not spend it in vain as she had worked very hard for the benefit of the people especially the children.