Turning Page Romane & Geschichten

My nails bent back and started to bleed from the pressure. "What are you still doing here, you cripple? I haven't seen this month's rent yet. Get out!" The flimsy door was kicked in. I looked up in terror to see hands covered in tattoos reaching for me, yanking me out onto the street. "Please, no! Just give me a moment, I'm almost there, I'll have the money soon!" I crawled to the landlord, gripping the hem of her pants, pleading for mercy. Her face softened a bit at my gesture, and she held back the others, barking, "How do I know you're not just buying time? Pay up half now, or find yourself a nice spot on the sidewalk to sleep!"

Flipping back and forth, he saw that the recipe was the same on every page. "Husband figure out?" Tink asked, standing on her tiptoes to look at the book. "No," Mike said, flipping to the very first page. What use was a recipe book with only one recipe? His vision blurred, and he rubbed his eyes. Closing the book, he stared at the outside. It had no title on it, but it did have a picture of a triangle on the spine. Mike ran his finger over the golden grooves of the shape, tilting the book so Tink could get a good look.

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.

See you amongst the turning pages, Shana Allen

They tumbled down to the second floor and splashed into the garden pond. "You!" Sheila shot me an angry look, then quickly looked sad and pulled on Elliot's shirt. "Elliot! My presents!" I just sneered, "They're just presents. You can get more." Elliot kept staring at me, like he noticed something odd. When I turned to leave, he grabbed my wrist. Right then, the butler came in to say dinner was ready. Joseph would also be home at any minute. I laughed without a care, shook off Elliot's hand, and walked to the dining room without looking back.

It was not fixing me. Ever since Sasha Quick’s 102 class and that zucchini, my body had decided it was done waiting for appropriate circumstances. Mr. Camden turned from the board and talked about something. But I didn't hear any word he said. Because my hand was already moving. Slowly. Under the desk. Fingers finding the edge of my skirt and sliding beneath it while I kept my eyes forward and my face completely neutral like a girl honestly engaged with whatever was happening on page fourty-two of my biology textbook.

Not to prosecute them but to aid their ability and enhance their magic, I made a few notes in my note book to remember them and to try them out one day. Eventually I get to the page that was highlighted by the Goddess, still confused why she pointed it out, I noticed that the page was thicker than the rest. I turned the torch on my phone and investigated the page, nothing looked different but then I turned the book to look at the bottom of the page and noticed there was a small gap. 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.

The pages began turning without anyone touching them and from somewhere deep within the sanctuary. A voice that did not belong to any of them whispered, "At last..."

The second his pencil moved across his notebook. What was he writing? Not notes. His eyes weren’t on the board, not on the professor. They were on her. And then, casually, he lowered his head, as though it were nothing at all. No one else noticed. No one ever did. The next day, she returned a stack of books to the circulation desk. The line was short, two students in front of her. She saw him there — quiet, sorting returns, eyes lowered to the spines. When it was her turn, she slid the books across the desk. Their hands didn’t touch, not even close. But as he scanned the barcodes, she noticed something that made her pause:

“Earlier, I won half a million grand, and with my house deed added in, that’s about a million. I’m not taking advantage of you.” That was exactly what Taylor wanted to hear. She swore to herself she’d win this one back no matter what. This time, she didn’t do any dramatic posing or chanting. She focused completely, listening to the dice, shaking with precision. However, unless she had X-ray vision, it was still luck in the end. Four fives, one two, and one three—twenty-five points. I lifted mine to find six sixes again, though no vertical stack this time. The Panamera was now mine.