Torn Pages Book Novels & Stories

The book had an entire thirty-page chapter on soul resurrection but not soul fetching. Slightly annoyed, Levy started to look through the books again and this time much more carefully as she stared at each page until she was sure that she wasn’t missing anything finally she found what exactly was wrong at the end of the third book. “ Someone tore pages from this book,” murmured Levy as she ran her fingers through the rough yet very clean edge of the torn page. Whoever tore the pages of the book, did it very carefully… in fact, they did it so cleanly that Levy would’ve never found what was wrong with the book unless she carefully skimmed through each page.

“Or if you have any sense at all, you wouldn’t come back.” The reaction was immediate; someone yanked the book away from me. I gritted my teeth in anger when the page I’m currently reading tore slightly. “You. Fucking. Idiot!” I hissed furiously, taking the book back and looking at the ripped page in despair. “This is the Alpha’s book! It’s from one of his personal collections!”

I'd been reading it a lot lately, desperate to find answers. I flipped through the pages, noticing something odd for the first time. A page was missing. Ripped out, to be exact. I blinked hard, bringing the inside spine of the book closer so I could properly inspect. I hadn't been seeing things. The paper left on the page was uneven, an indication that someone had torn a page out. Why would someone do that? I scanned the surrounding pages, trying to make sense of the missing section. It seemed to be a crucial part of the book, detailing werewolf lore, ancient rituals and witch potions.

“They say that what’s in that book is going to happen, but so many pages are torn out that you won’t understand what really happened.” Her words piqued my curiosity even more. I opened the book and saw that she was right—many pages were indeed missing. The mystery surrounding the torn pages only deepened my desire to read it. I couldn’t just leave it there; I had to at least try to piece together the story.

Which I find myself going to as I check each picture posted. It showed the old orphanage and the step-by-step process that was made to it. None of the photos show the safe house that was hidden underneath the building which was understandable. “I told you to have this room repainted,” I hear Stefan say. “My room is fine,” Lia said as she went through several folders on her desk. “And your desk is so messy,” Stefan complained, catching my attention as I look at Lia’s desk and remembered what she used to say whenever I asked her about it too.

Serenity turned the next page of the book again instantly. "Hey, how come some of the pages are torn out? But why, I can't get any other information if the next page isn't there." Serenity muttered and continued to turn the pages of the book, but still could not find the paper shreds of the missing pages. Serenity was annoyed.

moving on to the next page. The husband, i paused at that, did i skip a page? my eyes travel to the previous page yeah, i was just reading on the capo i expected a continuation from there not another topic entirely. when my eyes travel to the bottom of the page it said page 4, on the next page its numbered page 18. what the hell? It seems some pages are missing, when I take a closer look at the middle of the book gasped, more like ripped out. "Some pages are missing" I said out loud.

Elsa just stood there looking at her. ---------*******---------- Thanks for your love and support. Sorry for the late update. Please bear with me. Author is trying her best to give daily updates. Please you can read my first book, TWINS BOND, I hope you like it. Don't forget to review and comment your thoughts for this story. I need the feedback to be able to give you a nice story. Thanks.

For a second, I could not process what I was seeing. The torn pieces of my answer booklet fluttered down across the desk and floor. All the time I had fought for, all the work I had forced myself to complete, all the proof that I had not given up, lay in scraps at my feet. The anger I had been swallowing all morning finally broke through. "What gives you the right to tear up my paper?" I rushed forward and grabbed his sleeve. Stiazky wrenched himself free and shouted back.

Under the orange peels. Page forty-one had been torn out at the spine. Clean. The way a man tears a page when he wants to keep it. The page was not in the trash. The page was somewhere else. I sat down on the kitchen floor with the book in my lap, my back against the cabinet, and my knees up. I cried for ninety seconds. For Daddy. For the girl at twelve. For the man down the hall who had figured out I had one sentence in this world worth holding, and reached in and took it.