The Spook Who Sat By The Door Book Novels & Stories

“Explain, please… I’m confused,” I sighed. Dee stood, walked to the door, cracked it open to peer outside, then quietly shut it again. Her irises turned a misty white. “Aza Demos Debuf,” she whispered. The spell rippled through the room like a wave. I felt it crawl beneath my skin—the air grew heavy, sound vanished. The chamber was sealed. Dee’s eyes faded back to normal as she returned to sit beside me. “The book,” she began slowly. “It was said to have been burned and destroyed centuries ago—but it chose its own fate.”

He bent down and twisted the heavily sealed door, pulled it open and turned to look at me. "You first madmuzel." I looked down the depth and let out a sigh seeing it was not too deep, held on to the iron for support and climbed down the ladder till i got to the ground and George was not far gone after me. I took my time to look around, observing my surroundings. The entire place was made of steal, there were rolls of wooden shelves arranged at every corner and stocked with books, different kind of books. Unlike the little cabin up front, this place smelled like dust, dusty old books. I picked up one of them from a shelve that read 'beyond the supernatural'. It was a smooth copy, one that i c

Pullman tried to catch his breath, crawling to the foot of the stairs. He crawled up, leaving the parents to comfort the boy as he raged and screamed. Across the hall, Spencer’s door was open. He didn’t bother to try the other doors. He crawled into the room and shut the door. It was another case for the ages, a supernatural entity or something like that.

He asked, "Remember this? At Harrowell Library, you were reading by the window. The sun was shining on you, and I thought there wouldn't be anyone in the world as beautiful as you." I snapped the box shut. "The past is the past." "I can't let it go. I just can't," he said, all serious. Rain poured down in Hudson City that night. I figured he would leave, but then security called me way past midnight. "Ms. Douglas, Mr. Carter's still downstairs." I peeked out the window, and there he was—standing in the rain, stubborn as ever. "Let him in." I sighed. He was soaked through when he stood at my door, looking like a total mess.

Jake whispered, reaching out a trembling hand. Marcus looked at the hand. Then he looked at Jake’s face. "Don't touch me," Marcus said. His voice was dead. Cold as the void behind them. "I'm killing it!" the father screamed, his mind snapping at the sight of the supernatural. He raised the gun, aiming not at the boys, but at the swirling purple eye of the Door. BANG. The gunshot shattered the spell. The bullet sparked against the brickwork inches from Marcus's head, sending red dust flying.

Slowly, I shut my door, still in shock, and locked it, a bit terrified to stay alone in my room. Turning away from the door, I gasped in shock as I saw a big brown book on the top of my bed. Had the…should I call it a spirit or what? I deliberated, comparing the presence to the one that had visited me last night after my nightmare. Yes, I had literally felt it that night-so thick. But where that one had bespoke of evil, this recent one was light and peaceful. Perhaps, that was why I had curtailed the urge to call Kaden over the phone. I reasoned, whilst hesitating to go to my bed and pick up the strange book.

Chapter 1 22:33 Oct 24, 2022 (UTC+0 17:03 Oct 24, 2022) 1087 words Drafts(2) Trash(0)  Your modification request for this episode is under review by your agent. Chapter 17 Scarlett The next day was as usual and surprisingly no one visited me. I found a few books that were placed on the table. It was the Harry Potter series. Taking the book, I went to bed and hopped up. Leaning back, I started reading. The book captivated me wholly and I didnt know how many hours passed until a soft knock came on the door.

I didn't want to have breakfast for fear of running into Darick. The door creaked as I turned the knob and entered the library. Dust particles still floated in the air, and I could barely see with the dimly lit chancellors. I walked down the aisles, holding my nose as the smell of musk filled my nostrils. I skimmed my fingers over the hardback books. Hmm, ‘Chronicles of the Blood Brothers.’ No, I don't want to read about the Blood Brothers' history. What's this? ‘Understanding your Supernatural Abilities.’

The boy protested with, “But Mama, the spider moved! I was playing with it and it moved all by itself!” The strange-familiar middle-aged woman slapped the light switch on the wall as she left, plunging the office back into darkness. Panic thrummed through John as he scrambled for the light switch, slapping desperately until he flipped it back on. Relief flooded through him, but it was short-lived, because as he stepped back from the light switch, he glanced up at the bookshelves against the far wall—two blue shelves normally filled with miscellaneous horror, science fiction and mystery titles, with everything from William Hope Hodgson to Bentley Little to Agatha Christie—and gasped: They wer

I find it strange that there are no notes or marked pages. I pick up the second book and am surprised that there are notes, but not in my hand. The handwriting is that of a man and seems old. Curiously, I follow the directions for the hand motions and see a pink smoke illuminating from my hand. Concentrating on a medical terminology book on a shelf, I call it to me, then stop it before it reaches me. “Page 75,” the book opens to the page, and I hear the words in my head. “Stop,” I say, then, “Page 283.” The pages turn, and then I hear the words again. “Stop, go back.” The book goes back to its place on the shelf. My attention then goes back to the spell book. Everything is handwritten and it