Words In A Book Novels & Stories

If there was an answer anywhere… It would be here. I searched through the oldest section first, carefully running my fingers across cracked leather bindings faded by time. One book after another came off the shelf. None of them mentioned curses. I kept looking. Finally… One worn spine caught my attention. Across the faded cover, a single word had been pressed into the leather. Curses. I carefully pulled the heavy book free. Dust drifted into the air as I carried it to a nearby table and sat down. Taking a steady breath, I opened the first page. “Well…” I whispered to myself. “Here we go.”

On finding answers. The word binding stayed in my mind as I slowly turned the page, my fingers careful against the worn paper. The book felt older than anything else I had touched since coming here, the ink faded in places, the writing uneven like it had been written by hand long before this hall had ever been filled with light and life. I leaned closer over the table, my eyes moving slower now, taking in each line instead of rushing through it.

Reasa tensed beside her, but remained silent. Incanting quietly, there appeared a faint breeze on the air; the foreign words in the book shimmered for a brief moment and then cleared just as quickly. The script remained ornate, but the language was now clearly legible. All in the room were silent, until Rhianna began to speak once more...

It was a small book, wrapped in brown leather, and coated with dust. I blew some dust off it, before glancing at the first page. Empty. I turned to second, and it was empty as well, then I skipped a multiple pages, landing in the middle… “Spare none, we hunt to survive, we die if they survive.” I read out the words aloud to myself, “What is this? Some sort of code?” I sighed, letting the book drop—but then a couple of sheets stuck out from some page in the book, and when I took it out, I fixed my eyes on the drawings, and certain familiar words.

All this while, I've felt this subtle pull towards it, feeling the animal skin pulsating in my hands as if it’s alive. "That’s a nice-looking book," she says sarcastically. "I guess. I felt something calling to me when I saw it, too," I say, pulling it open. A gentle gush of wind pushes my hair away from my face immediately. The words begin shifting as well, one by one, until they're readable just like before. "What does it say?" "You don't see it?" "See what?" I look at her with puzzlement until it dawns on me that maybe she really can't see it this time. Perhaps the words are readable only to me, unlike the other red book.

I followed her instruction and when I did, I found myself reading out word's on the first page of the book. "Spell one; Possession technique." "No way, I can read the book!"

But the book remained silent, its secrets veiled behind the mystical glow of its pages. Aunt Agatha's comforting hand on my shoulder brought me back to reality, her eyes filled with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. "This, my dear, is the Book of Shadows, an old friend of mine," she explained, her voice hushed with reverence. As I gazed upon the illuminated pages before me, I couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and wonder. What secrets lay hidden within the ancient text? What knowledge had been passed down through generations, waiting to be discovered by eager hands?

he questions. I nod my head. "Yes," I say again. "I've always loved reading." "Book," he says in a gruff voice. "Liffatin. Can you repeat that back to me?"Liffatin," I repeat. "That's a beautiful word. You know, back in my kingdom there was a little shop called a library and it harbored many, many books. Some were sad, some were happy, some were full of action and tales of courageous princes and princesses, fictional tales of fire-breathing dragons and fairies and demons. A book is where imagination takes flight."

“I would prefer to have more illustrations in our books. The words aren’t that enticing, even.” Elizabeth gave out a bit of a laugh before saying, “Brother, books are made to inspire, to nourish your mind. Books aren’t meant to be some kind of museum.” She continued, “Words are meant to be poetic. They are meant to be in such a way so your mind can think. Books are supposed to take you to different places, places where you can’t go.” “I will try next time,” I sighed. “I suggest that you do that as much as possible. Even the wisest men in this world read books because even they don’t know everything,” she comforted.

It was a necessary evil, one that had to be done. Instead of opening the book to the list of supernatural creatures, as I usually did, I started at the first page and began to simply read it in order instead. Some of the words were impossible to make out in Rosie’s handwriting, and some of them I, quite frankly, just didn’t understand. But I worked through it, my bottom lip caught between my teeth, my index finger trailing beneath the words as I squinted at them. I was about to give up, my eyes and brain both exhausted, when a single word, inked in black and underlined, caught my eye: signs.