Novel & Cerita The Pretty Book

Because inside— God. Wasn't just her sketchbook. Fair. There were dozens of things. Reasonable honestly. Dozens. God. Hair clips. Fair. Toys. Reasonable. Books. God. Shells. Fair. Spoons. Reasonable honestly. An entire collection. God. Peanut's Collection. Fair. Version 2. Reasonable. The upgraded edition. God. Then Lily spotted her sketchbook. Fair. Perfectly safe. Reasonable. Completely untouched.

With one final push, the lock gives. I open the door as quietly as I can. Her room is small, tight, barely bigger than a closet but it's nothing like the disaster outside. It's clean, organized, lived in. Neat little touches, a folded blanket at the end of her bed, a stack of books on the nightstand, the faint glow of a cheap lamp glowing softly. There's my doll, asleep and curled up on the small mattress, facing the wall, her back to me. The blanket tangled around her body and her hair spills across the pillow.

Charlotte insisted on doing it herself. “I thought you might like this one,” she said as she handed me the book. “It’s about a man who loses everything. Then…he tries to get it back together little by little.” I glanced at the cover. The title was dramatic. So I said, flatly, “Sounds dramatic.” She let out a short laugh. I never heard someone laugheed like this before. She looked so innocent and pure. Well, she was a budding she-wolf and perhaps still figuring out how the world works.

But letting go of that dream was also going to hurt like hell. Amber had been clinging to a fairytale version of Grayson and her living happy ever after for a while now. A perfect beautiful family, a beautiful life in that white marble tower. But some fairytales were never meant to last. And this was where the Cinderella-esq love story of Amberleigh Dubois and Grayson Godwin ended. Time to close that fucking book once and for all.

Nothing major, just something to drive him the teeniest bit crazy. Like how she leaves books laying on the coffee table, opened and face down to mark her place, rather than using the bookmark that is tucked in between the last few pages for safe keeping. He sees the multicolored tassel hanging down and yet she persists in laying the book down to mark her place, messing with the spine of the book. And to make matters worse, all of her books are wrapped up in those colorful book covers that young school girls put on their textbooks to make them feel prettier. He can imagine that she has the holographic notebook and the scented glitter pens to match.

But a sudden strange noise coming from the back startled me. I went to see what is happening but to my surprise a young lady wearing a torn golden dress was struggling to climb the back gate. Her golden-brown hair with a half bun tied with a yellow ribbon was gorgeously flowing. She's like someone who came out of the fairytale books. Very extraordinary and enchanting. "Hey!" I shouted but she became more desperate to climb when she saw me. "I can open the door for you." I came to her and offered to open the gate

I look over to where Primus had been sitting not so long ago. What's this? Primus left something behind. A book? Was this the gift he meant to give me? It is a small thing, dainty. I cannot imagine someone as large as Primus ever reading this because how could he ever hold onto it without breaking it? It looks so precious, and fragile. Even as a child, I can't imagine he would have been small or careful enough to read it. Gently, as if lifting a rose from a vase, I pick up the blush pink volume, marveling at the delightful texture of its silk binding, the title embroidered in gold. While I might not know many words yet, I know enough that I can read the title of this book.

So Proserpina moves on to the next row, then the next one, and the next one, on and on until she was literally kneeling like a child on the floor when she finally comes across a book third to the last on the bottom row in between a skinny book and leather bound one; the book was silver-gray, small and light in her hands and the cover seemed to have some sort of glossy material in it as it twinkled when she turned it here and there… ‘Kind of a child’s storybook,’ she noted. The book was almost as big as her palm and seemed to have pages as what one would expect from a novelette. She carefully opens it up to the first page–not wanting to have a repeat of another destroyed book because a destro

DEDICATION: I dedicate this chapter to 'Mhiz Grace Pretty' for dropping two gems on my book this month. You are amazing 😘 Elliot's POV The book was magnificent. Just as I imagined. Once I reached home I had already prepared myself to open it but I had to savour the moment of having the first magic book in the world.

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