The Spook Who Sat By The Door Book Novels & Stories

But then, right there and then before my eyes, blank pages started appearing, sewing their pages against the spine. "Goodness!" I stood frozen. It was a wonder seeing something spooky as a book stitching its own pages together. What more is there for me to see? "Put your right palm on one blank page, Chosan." Without hesitating a second time, my shaky hand stretched over to the book. The hissing sound got fiercer the closer I came in contact with the black page. As soon as my palm touched it, my head snapped back. My mouth gaped and I could literally see several texts rushing in through my mouth. Then all of a sudden, my body dissolved into a puff of smoke.

Various theories have the library being built there by aliens, by a civilization ten thousand years old, or by a race of vampires. Caitlin let the book fall from her lap, her mouth open in shock, and it landed with a thump on the floor. She sat straight up, feeling a jolt. She suddenly felt wide awake, as if she had just lost all sense of time and place. She picked the book up again, her throat dry, and read the words again and again, desperately, like a castaway starving for water.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Christmas with Demons The night following my visit to the Boudoir, I flew to Matilda Swanson’s countryside home. I didn’t know whether she would remember me, but I needed a ritualist’s opinion, and I obviously couldn’t ask Salem or Mr. Pervis for their input. When I arrived, I found coaches parked outside and a smiling servant boy waiting by the door. As I approached, the gargoyle above the door lowered its stone body down between us like a snake from a tree. “Password?” it crooned.

Looking at the books, he pulled the spine of a bright red book, opening a new door to a hidden room. As he snuck in, he was welcome to a large dark room, filled with spells written on the wall. He didn’t stop until he found the large golden bowl placed in the middle of the room. Albert follow behind him, not knowing the appearance of a bat that settled behind the two, watching their actions intently with its red eyes.

The words seemed to leap off the page, filling the room with an eerie sense of foreboding. Everything written in the book didn't make any sense to either Stella or Morgan. They found everything in the book quite absurd. The book spoke of witches, dragons, angels, vampires, and the devil. They didn't believe in such a thing at all, weren't they just fantasy? If they were to interpret it, it only meant that Grandma Elizabeth was a witch while the stranger guy whom Stella had picked from the streets the previous night was the devil.

My fingers grazed the wooden desk, smooth beneath my touch, and that was when something caught my eye—a book, slightly opened, its cover worn yet strangely inviting. There was something about the book that seemed to draw my attention. My curiosity peeked and I reached for it, flipping it open just as the door swung open behind me. I gasped, turning swiftly to find him standing there, his broad frame filling the doorway. But it wasn’t his sudden appearance that made my breath hitch. It was the way his entire expression shifted the moment he saw the book in my hands—like he had seen a ghost.

I didn't have time to touch it not until now. I grabbed one of the books whose title caught my attention. I smiled gently as I read the first page of the story which was fantastic. I flipped to the next page, enjoying the magical and fantasy setting of the book. I looked up, and dropped the book as a knock landed at the door. I frowned as the knock came again at the door. "Come in,"I muttered with a sigh, and quickly picked the book from the wooden table as my nose caught his familiar scent. I didn't look up as he walked in, and shut the door. I focused my gaze on the book, pretending to be reading even though I'd forgotten the page I'd stopped because of his intimidating presence.

It looked and smelt like shit, but it was my home. I took double glances down the streets for cops before slipping through a hole in the fence. Then, I rushed up the broken steps and into the building before closing the door shut. “Okay, okay," I muttered under my breath, my trembling hands still holding a firm grasp on the book. “What did Gerald say about the book again? Magic spellbook that conjured up… a demon lord?” I walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and dragged the dust ridden drapes still hung above them, letting the morning sunlight spill into the place. My boots crunched glass as I turned and made my way to the altar.

⸻ At the center of the library… A new door had appeared. Not black. Not silver. ⸻ White. ⸻ Pure white. ⸻ A door nobody had seen before. ⸻ Even the Keeper of Stories looked confused. 😨 ⸻ “That shouldn’t exist.” ⸻ The Witness narrowed its eye. 👁️ ⸻ “It’s not part of the story.” ⸻ The Writer stepped backward. ⸻ Because he recognized something terrifying. ⸻ The door wasn’t written. ⸻

Shaking her head, she said, "But aren't you only like that because you idiotically accepted an accursed book from a nobody? You said, you don't even believe in ghosts before you got that." He sighed and took out the book which always appeared inside his pocket for several months now. The book was giving off a mysterious vibe due to its black worn-out cover featuring a faceless monster. He got it from a fake friend who had styled himself as a book collector. Nathan was a horror writer so he accepted the creepy book. His initial objective was only to look for more ideas and inspiration. Who would have thought the horror writer who never believed in ghost would suddenly start seeing creepy ghos