The Way It Used To Be Book Novels & Stories

I’d picked up a few new Stephen King novels last month at the used book sale at Bassler Memorial Library, so I figured on starting one of them. So I was surprised to find myself sitting up in my chair, blinking as if coming out of a long sleep, with The Way open in my lap, reading about “invoking the spirit of Ah-Tzenul through the nourishment of the sow’s blood.” I sat there and stared at The Way, wondering how the hell I’d gone and read it when I’d wanted to read something else. Also, how could I sit there for a whole hour and a half reading without remembering what I’d read!

Kaya naman hindi masyadong mahal 'yong iba rito . I picked up the first book that my hand had touched and I nodded in satisfaction when I happened to pick up a familiar book. 'Where the Sun Doesn't Shine' was written on its cover. The book I used to read before whenever I'm here together with dad. Mahilig din kasi itong magbasa. Putting it back, I headed to the next shelf and then the next with my hand kept touching each book I touched with closed eyes with a smile carved in my mouth, just enjoying the feel and the smell of it.

The book smelled of old paper and safer times when I didn't have to worry about anything but my fantasies. “I haven’t seen this book in years,” I whispered. “I thought I lost it during the burning.” “You almost did,” Elaris said quietly. “But I went back for it. I knew you’d need it someday… a reminder of who you were before everything turned upside down.” My throat tightened. “Before I became… this.” She nudged my shoulder. “You’re still you, Kaelis. Just… updated. Like a stronger version with trauma added.” I snorted. “That’s not comforting.”

Maybe something could help. Then she took drastic steps after realizing something. She searched for a book and finally found what it was that she was looking for. It was an old dusty huge book. She blew air on it and waved her hand to dispense the dust. She opened the book and on the front page was written, "THE WAY OF THE LOST." She nodded hopefully, "This should do the trick." She sat on the floor and started going through the huge book of guidance.

Both were really awkward at each other at first but when they found out that both were reading the same book, they eventually got a comfortable to talk at each other. “So, you also read that book-” “Yeah, I got into it after a friend of mine recommended it to me.” “Isn’t it a great book.” “Yeah, I got hooked on it after reading the first chapter.” “bla-bla-bla” Both continued to talked to each other and enjoyed their conversation. “I was feeling an awkward atmosphere growing between our table so I was gonna try to start a conversation but when you brought out your book, I was just surprised to see a person reading it.” The girl said.

My daughter, Lily, was hit and dragged for two whole miles by a drunk driver. I rushed her blood-drenched body into the emergency room. While the doctors saved her, I collapsed onto the floor in the hallway. With the last ounce of strength left in my body, I sent a text to my husband, Howard. [Lily is in critical condition. Get to the hospital now!] A few seconds later, my phone chimed with a reply. [Stay safe. I’ll be over as soon as I wrap things up here.]

The memory left a sharp ache in my chest. I set the book down and kept moving, fingers brushing over the sleek black counter in the kitchen. The faint smell of coffee lingered. It was rich, dark, the exact roast he used to import from Italy. I found the bag in a cupboard, the same brand I’d once teased him about being “coffee snob royalty.” I didn’t realize my hand was trembling until I heard the faint crinkle of the paper. Why did it feel like walking through our old life, only… rearranged?

The fact that I was sent back to my hometown to be raised by Grandmother… My food, clothing, housing, and transportation were much inferior compared to Belle… I earned a living by picking empty bottles, and my body was covered with scars.

Fuck I miss them too, I hope they don't hate me. "Well I'm back to work now. I'm actually in Paris, first time that I've been back since we were here together, and my god the whole fucking town reminds me of you. I even went to that little bookstore that I took you to, trying to find a little piece of you to keep with me. I found a book that reminded me of you. It's called 'Finding the joy in the smallest things'. That's what you do, you're grateful for the little things in life, you made me grateful for the small things. I found joy in your laugh, your smile, your presence, even finding this stupid little book. But now that I've started reading it I've realised it's one of those self help b

I quietly walked into my therapist's office, a heavy weight pressing down on my heart, diminishing any sense of joy. Miss Beira Sinclair raised her head from the book she had been reading and offered me a warm, empathetic smile. But when she saw the distress etched across my features, her expression fell. She closed the book and clasped her hands before her, dropping the professional demeanor she typically maintained. Beira spoke to me then as a friend and a mother, using whatever means necessary to ensure I would listen.