Torn Pages Book Novels & Stories

Almost like there were two pages stuck together, I try to pull them apart with my fingers but I was worried about ripping the page and having to pay to replace the book in the library. Putting the book down I go to the kitchen to grab a sharp knife, wishing that I had one of those fancy letter openers that I have seen in old movies. Returning back to the desk I gently shimmy the tip of the blade between the pages, once the tip is in I slowly slide the rest of the blade in. I hear the pages begin to break apart, thankful that the actual pages didn’t rip, then I see more pages than expected between them. Smaller ones, thin like an old bible, yellowed with page break apart.

she said seriously. I looked at her. “Torn out?” “Yes,” she said. “The page was deliberately torn out, as if someone wanted that chapter to end exactly where it does,” she explained, and I leaned in slightly to see what she was pointing at. She was right. The cut was clean, too clean to be accidental. “This book was closed for many years,” I said. “Then someone opened it before you did,” Elaine replied with a calmness that was more unsettling than any alarm.

It had been ripped out. He turned another. Also gone. Five pages were missing. The torn edges were rough, as if someone had pulled them out in a hurry. Taren’s hand shook as he touched the empty space. “These pages were the end,” he said. I looked at the torn paper and swallowed. “The final proof was there.” Taren stared at the missing pages. “The proof of the miscarriage.” We looked at the diary together, and there was no more doubt. The missing pages had been ripped out, the final proof of the miscarriage.

I leaned closer. Reading more carefully now. Trying to understand every word. Every line. Every meaning. And then— My hand stilled. Because halfway down the page— It stopped. Not naturally. Not cleanly. Torn. The page had been ripped out. The rest of the spell— Gone. My chest tightened sharply. “No…” I flipped the page. Hoping. Expecting. But the next page— Was different. Not instructions. Not a continuation. Just a single line. Written boldly.

The book had not reached its conclusion at all. Several leaves had been violently torn away, jagged fibers still clinging stubbornly to the binding where entire sections had once been sewn. Whoever had done it hadn't removed a few pages by accident. They had torn them out deliberately. I flipped back and forth between the remaining pages, as though doing so would somehow make the missing leaves magically appear. I was so absorbed, so desperate to uncover that final piece of the puzzle, that I barely noticed when the atmosphere in the library shifted. A familiar force pressed against my skin.

⸻ 🌙 The Lost Pages The book slowly opened. 📖 ⸻ Its pages fluttered wildly. ⸻ Most were empty. ⸻ Destroyed. ⸻ Gone forever. ⸻ Yet one page remained intact. ⸻ One final page. ⸻ One hidden page. ⸻ A page nobody had ever seen before. ⸻ The page that existed before Memory Zero. ⸻ 😨 ⸻ 🌙 Before The First Question The page glowed softly. ✨ ⸻

Turn back. Then the understanding. The fortnight was not there. Not scribbled over. Not inked out. Not torn, either, in the way a hurried person tears, leaving a ragged shoulder of paper standing proud of the spine. Cut. Somebody had taken a blade to that book and removed the pages one at a time, close in against the binding, and had done it well enough that the book still closed flat. You had to open it wide and hold it toward the window to see the stubs at all.

So no one was around to ask for help. ———— Balancing the tray in one hand, I walked through the halls, trying not to let my nerves get the best of me. It took three wrong doors before I finally found the right one—one that was slightly open. Pushing it open with my foot, I stepped inside. And froze. The tray almost slipped from my hands. The room was... different. Unlike Blake's minimalistic, perfectly arranged space that was filled with books and papers. Alan's room felt lived in. The room was dimly lit, the curtains only partially drawn, papers scattered on the desk. But what really caught my attention—

“In his study. Hidden behind some old scrolls. I’ve never seen it before. But what matters is what’s inside.” I began flipping through the pages, scanning the text. The words on each page seemed to swirl and writhe in a way that made my skin crawl. But it wasn’t until I reached the middle that I noticed something strange, the pages were torn, ripped out as if someone had deliberately taken them. “Why are these pages missing?” I asked, frowning. I held them up for Axel to see, he was the one who had found it first so maybe he would have had more time to come up with explanations that suited the situation.

“I needed to know what was inside.” He looked at me. “But apparently…” His fingers rested against the damaged pages. “…the important sections were removed.” I took the book from him immediately. My eyes scanned the pages. He was right. Entire portions had been torn out. Cleanly. Deliberately. My stomach tightened. Now my question was who tore them out? And why? Someone hadn’t removed those pages by accident. They had known exactly what they were looking for. Slowly, I lowered the book.