Vintage Horror Paperback Books Novels & Stories

"Reading novels seems better!" A profound silence reigned in the downstairs room where Miranda stayed, broken only by the rhythmic cadence of her breathing as she sat on the wide bed, propped up against soft pillows, a famous horror novel open in her hands. The words danced before her eyes under the warm glow of the golden bedside lamp, drawing her deeper and deeper into their dark worlds, until it seemed as if she were slipping into her haunted depths.

I got up from the bed and walked around the room, still no pain, how weird. I noticed the bookshelf and decided to take a look. There were so many books, some with older worn covers and others a bit more newer looking. I picked up a small red book and read the cover ‘A Lycanthropy Reader; WEREWOLVES IN WESTERN CULTURE’. I flicked through the pages and put it back on the shelf, a little too intense for some early morning reading. I picked up another one and read the cover, ‘The Garden of Eden’ by Ernest Hemingway. Not what I expected from a teenage werewolf soon-to-be-Alpha. I put it back and my eyes fell on a really older looking book. I pulled it out and it was big and very heavy. It looked

After resting for a while, they walked around and saw a bookstore which they both agreed to enter. She was reading the back of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen when Jacob asked her. “What do you say let’s read horror books? Like the ones we watched today?” “Eh? I’m scared. You go read first, then give me a summary, then I’ll decide. Haha!” “Roger!” as he picked The Dunwich Horror and Others by H.P. Lovecraft and IT by Stephen King. They finished book shopping, it was around three in the afternoon when Jacob invited her to go somewhere else.

"Pages are missing. A lot of them. And... some of it looks like blood." Her brows drew together, and she stood up, reaching for the book. I handed it over. She opened it slowly. Flipped through. "We don’t even have this catalogued," she said, voice low. "It’s not part of the official vampire section. Where did you find it?" "Top shelf. Back corner. Looked like it hadn't been touched in years." She frowned, then closed it. "This wasn’t on our list of acquisitions. It must have come from one of the estate donations. Old vampire houses sometimes drop things off anonymously. Some of them don't want certain knowledge traced back to them."

he wiggled his eyebrows at me comically and I laughed, nodding. He grabbed one of the boxes swiftly and handed it to me. It was the biggest one because my tiny hands were barely keeping it in place. He had a lazy, urging smile that I found sexy playing on his lips. I looked away from him and unknotted the ribbons. I pried the cover open and my eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as I retrieved the first book. "André!" I whisper-yelled, my voice laced with awe. Being a bibliophile had its perks because as I looked through the four books, with somewhat modern yet vintage covers in mature colours, alongside intricate golden threadings, I knew they were Fantasy books. Dark Romantasies.

“And any other damage you’ve done.” Sam picked the ancient, battered paperbacks off the pavement and saw, for the first time, they were part of the Pan Book of Horror Stories series. He was an obedient child, so he dutifully got out his weekly allowance, but he couldn’t believe how much the owner was asking for them. “They’re collectors’ items now,” the man said. “Go and check on your interweb thingy if you don’t believe me.” Sam put the books into his bag and slunk back to school. With no money left to spend, he didn’t feel like hanging around in town.

My fingers examined the fine-textured white substance. It smelled of old perfume and...gasoline? The odd scent only boggled me more. "What are you?" I whispered. Was it just some powdered chemical to keep the bugs out? Or something else entirely? ◇ "Vampirar et Dhampirica" The gothic-styled calligraphy printed in gold ink intrigued me as I studied the brownish, tattered cover. It was a vintage-looking book Miles currently engrossed himself in as he sat next to me.

Histories, myths, philosophies—every book was a whisper of the past. Ashara’s gaze stopped on a particular section on the far wall, its books older, darker in design, and faintly ominous. Something about the curling silver script caught her attention. One of the titles read: Nocturnae Vitae: The Legacy of the Blood Born. Her breath hitched. “Vampires?” she murmured, tilting her head.

I admired some of the old classics and new books as my eyes wandered over every title. I had gathered a stack of books in my hand, picking ones I wanted to read and taking them out. So far, I had five books that I found would pique my interest such as Alice in Wonderland, Pride and Prejudice and the Maze Runner. All of these books were human and I admired the wide selection of books that this room had. I tried to find one that was all about werewolves like the library back at my pack had and only seemed to find one that was labelled 'As Old As Time Will Tell' written by none other than one of the eldest werewolf alive which was 'Herbert Vanderlin'. In the blurb, it states his life as an old

“Strange how?” She slowed her steps, trailing her fingertips across a row until she stopped abruptly. Her lips curved faintly, like she’d found what she came for. “Because they were talking about vampires. And at that time, I thought it was ridiculous. Like bedtime stories dressed up as history. I laughed it off every time.” Her hand hovered for a moment longer before sliding a thick, dust covered book from the shelf. The weight of it sagged against her arms, the cracked spine showing its age. She flipped it open without hesitation, her thumb brushing over the faded ink as if she’d done it a hundred times before.