Troubled Sleep Bookstore Novels & Stories

Greta and Gabby made their way to Page Turner’s Bookstore just down the street from the Blue Moon Inn. Once inside the warmth of the large shop, Greta was surprised to see a bright modern shop, which included not only a metaphysical section, but my children’s section, too. With soft upbeat music playing in the background, it didn’t take long to find the shopkeeper chatting away to a rather wild looking dog by a fireplace.

She said coming closer. Immediately she stopped in her tracks and let out a little laugh. "Looks like my time is up. I will get that book one way or the another" She said with a wicked laugh echoing all around me. I closed my ears with my hands and screamed, immediately I woke up on my bed in cold sweats breathing heavily, I took my phone to check the time... 8:05 in the morning. Thankfully today's a weekend, I had plans to see Mr Jonathan for answers. Ever since that day his book shop had been closed whenever I visited so I decided to camp there today.

The day had been long and arduous, and I found that even the simple act of trying to sleep was a struggle. I reached for a book on the bedside table, hoping to find some distraction from my troubles. But as I started to read, I found that my mind kept wandering, unable to focus on the words. Frustrated, I tossed the book aside and sat up in bed. I looked around my small room, taking in the familiar sights and sounds. It was a sparsely furnished space, but it was mine, and I had done my best to make it feel like home.

It was the best kind of job for me, I loved it and I got paid weekly, enough to eat, after my first paycheck, I had spent a full week starving, I tried to ask for my money beforehand but my boss who’s the meanest person ever, said no. How could such a cold hearted person be responsible for one of the best places in the world! There was no sleeping with a storm outside, I was up most of the night, I was up early and ready to go to work, I was slipping but pushed it down as I got out of her car and quickly walked over to the bookstore. I walked over to the children's books area, I was thankful no one was around as I sat down in a beanbag after grabbing a few books to read.

"Alright. I’ll tell you everything. But not here. Give me until tomorrow night. I need to show you." Show me? I didn’t sleep much that night. --- The next evening, Nathan took me on a drive. We ended up outside a quaint little bookstore tucked between an abandoned cafe and a laundromat. A sign above the door read Warren's Books & Vinyl. Inside, the scent of old paper and pinewood welcomed us. The woman behind the counter looked up, then gasped. "Nathan Hart. As I live and breathe." Nathan smiled softly. "Hey, Julia."

The bell above the bookstore door jingles, and I decide—right then and there—that it’s too cheerful for the kind of day I’m having. I flip the sign from OPEN to CLOSED knowing that the customers will ignore it and come in anyway. Luca doesn’t look up from the ledger. “Professional,” he says mildly. “I contain multitudes,” I reply, leaning over the counter. “Mostly sarcasm and unresolved trauma.” “Shocking.” The bookstore smells like paper and espresso and calm. Which is a cruel joke, really, because calm is not something I’m currently familiar with. Calm is something other people get. People whose girlfriends don’t have homicidal fathers currently enjoying the perks of being at large.

I jolted awake in my bunk, cock already half-hard from the dream I’d been having. Same one every night: her on her knees in the bookstore, mouth open, eyes looking up at me while I fucked her throat slow and deep. I groaned, scrubbed a hand over my face, and climbed down. The lounge was dark except for the glow of the dashboard up front. Marco was driving tonight—night owl shift. Everyone else was out cold. I grabbed my phone and a blanket, slipped into the tiny bathroom at the back, and locked the door. The space was cramped—barely room to turn around—but it was private.

Unspoken Truths - Chapter 50 Sareena Three months since we got back from Vegas, and the nightmares still come, but they don’t own me anymore. Not with Damian beside me, and not with my therapist’s voice reminding me that I survived. Reminding me I’m not defined by what was done to me. I work at a free clinic in the Village now. It’s not glamorous, and most days it leaves me drained, but sometimes, when the patient looks at me like I’m the only lifeline they have, I feel something stronger than exhaustion. I feel steady. Rooted.

“Then don’t overthink it. You’ve had enough of men who make you doubt yourself. If Keith’s the real deal, you’ll know.” Mya nodded, grateful. “You really do sound like your brother sometimes.” Trina smirked. “Please, don’t insult me like that.” They both burst out laughing, the sound light and healing. After finishing their drinks, they wandered down the street toward the little bookstore next door. Inside, the air smelled of old paper and sandalwood. The aisles were narrow, lined with uneven stacks of novels and biographies. A cat slept on a pile of hardcovers near the window.

“He suspects nothing.” A slow smile curved across the man’s lips. “Excellent.”He ended the call without another word. His eyes never left the apartment. “So enjoy your peaceful nights while you can…” “They won’t last forever.” Sleep refused to visit me. I had tossed and turned for almost an hour before finally giving up. "Great," I muttered, throwing the blanket aside. "First day at Blackwood and I've already developed insomnia." Grandma was fast asleep. Careful not to wake her, I slipped into my hoodie, grabbed my wallet, and headed to the twenty-four-hour convenience store around the corner.