Woman Reading A Book Novels & Stories

Present day. A beautiful woman stood in the library of an ancient castle that had been preserved to this day. She was accompanied by a middle-aged man and his wife. They were talking in serious tones. The library was like an ocean of books, row after row of shelves packed full and reaching almost to the ceiling. The clean marble floor and dust-free books showed how well the place was maintained. “I love this place. It’s incredible, and so spotless,” said the woman with long, flowing hair, her voice smooth and melodic.

I closed my laptop and stretched my body, gosh two hours has already passed and I barely noticed because I immerse myself in this and could not tell when time passed, the shattering of books behind me got my attention, I quickly turned and saw Wayne trying to reach the shelves, “Wayne…..” I called, and quickly went to him, I scoop him in my arms and he began laughing so hard, he knew what he did, this baby of mine is quite sensible, I was carrying Wayne in my arms while I use the other hand to pick the book when suddenly I heard a beeping from the door, and slowly stood up, standing before me is an elderly woman she does not look familiar and she doesn't look friendly either, she has that co

"Apparently." "Come in." The house was full of books. Not as decoration — as occupation, books on every surface in the particular configuration of someone who reads continuously and has long since stopped trying to contain the process. A reading chair near the window with the light positioned correctly. A desk with a manuscript box open on it. The smell of old paper and something being kept alive. Vera made tea with the efficiency of someone who had been doing it for eighty years and had long since optimized the process. She brought it to the sitting room and sat across from Lila and looked at the manila envelope in Lila's hands.

Mary nodded without lifting her eyes from her book, her brow furrowed in concentration. I turned and began walking down the long aisle, my hands shoved deep into my pockets as I searched for the floor's restroom sign. I hadn't gone very far when I spotted one of the library workers. She was a middle-aged woman, methodically slotting heavy hardcovers back onto the lower shelves. The plastic employee badge hung from a colorful lanyard around her neck, tapping against her vest. "Excuse me," I said quietly as I approached. She paused, a thick book held midway between her hands and the shelf, and turned her head to look up at me.

So he hadn't really woken up yet? Aaah, so it's like that. There's no way he'd wake up without a full moon, right? So Liam was silent, enjoying the moment quietly, wishing it would never end. He saw the woman reading with focus, turning the page of the book in front of her slowly. Her breathing was so soft and steady, that it almost felt surreal. It was like Liam was looking at a marble statue reflecting the moonlight. After a few minutes, the woman turned the last page and realized she had finished reading the book. Only then did the woman lift her head to place her book on the side table.

The smell of old paper and coffee wrapped around her like a blanket. "Can I help you?" asked the woman behind the counter. She was older, with gray hair and kind eyes and reading glasses perched on her nose. "I'm just looking," Emma said. "Take your time. That's what books are for." Emma wandered the aisles. She ran her fingers along the spines. She pulled out a novel, read the first page, put it back. She pulled out another, read the first paragraph, held it to her chest. This one, she thought.

You're smaller than I expected. The woman in the library looked up from her book without any particular urgency, like I had knocked instead of just walked in. She was older, maybe seventy, with white hair pinned loosely and reading glasses pushed up on her forehead. Small framed, wrapped in a dark cardigan, seated in the largest chair in the room like she had been the one to put it there. People usually are, she said. Sit down, Ella.

In the middle of the room was a young woman, dwarfed by the mass of shelves around her. I felt a shudder across the floor and quickened my pace towards her. The dame's hair reminded me of golden wheat, in color and texture. A look of deep concentration wrinkled her brow, making her appear slightly older than she was. Her slim fingers brushed down the page as she read, the plate of food beside her remaining untouched. The floor shuddered again and I moved a bit closer. I studied her features as diligently as she studied her book, trying to memorize every curve and plane. A muffled voice in the background called out, the sound akin to listening underwater. "Sydney."

Eyes scanning every face I passed. A man reading near the thriller section. Gray hair. Glasses. He didn't look up. Not him. A woman with headphones browsing romance. Younger. Moving her lips to whatever song was playing. Not her. I reached the clock. Pulled a book off the nearest shelf. Didn't even glance at the title. Just opened it somewhere in the middle and stared at the page. The words blurred. My hands wouldn't stop trembling. Movement caught my eye. A woman in a bright red scarf was walking toward me, looking directly at me. Smiling.

like a big deal, I noted reading through so interesting titles, but not the specific one I was looking for. I swooped through the titles vainly searching for the one book I needed, to no avail. I groaned turning around, leaning on a shelf. I watched as a woman came into the row with a bunch of books in her arms and started packing them. A librarian. Bingo. I walked towards her, tapping her on the shoulder, "excuse me miss," She turned towards me, pushing her glasses down. She looked a little over forty, with hints of wrinkles but luscious brown hair pulled up in a bun. She wore a plain grey dress that went a little way past her knees.