Season 2 - Theme 7 - Of Bookstores and Bookshelves

From @vivekisms: 

It somehow seemed written. Destiny perhaps. I don’t know what it was. It just seemed to be right. Everything was perfect. We entered the same bookstore. You picked up my favourite book. Turned the pages. You almost looked at me, almost smiled. You kept the book back and left. It was not meant to be.

From @AnuNande: 

A touch was all it took for her to remember the musty smell of the paper, the feel of the soft, worn leather, the chair she had been sitting on that day. The pages crackled even as her ears strained hard to hold on to the whispers that escaped as silently as they’d been caught.

From @GauravJagwani: 

He was always among the pages. Whether it was at home or the library, the situation was pretty much the same. It was his life. Because he was so often seen at the library, he took it up on himself to help others read. I've seen his twin too. Good ol' bookmarks, I tell you. 

From @Whiteness: 

She picked up a fresh book from the new arrivals section, and sniffed it riffling through the pages. She took it and went home and sniffed it several times in the leisure. She continued to smell the book, every season and every year. After many years she disliked the smell and then she burned it.

From @TheFakeTimeLord: 

Her life was like a Bookstore with titles arranged alphabetically on the Bookshelves. Orderly. One day, he walked in looking for a title and found it after turning the bookshelves inside out. Then, he forgot to put rest of the titles back where they belong. She never managed to put her bookshelf back in order.

From @ashishshukul: 

Squinting in the dim light, she treaded softly in his direction. Her gaze sharpened as she spotted him around the corner. Books may be food for thought. Some call them a feast for the senses. But she couldn't let him devour them. Element of surprise was the key. The rodent’s luck ran out that evening.

From @thenesseffect: 

Mr. Gupta stood outside his 26 year old dream – a quaint little bookstore sitting snugly around the corner of a sleepy street, ironically set in the city that never sleeps. He’d supervised the furnishing himself, from bookshelves to cushions, and was finally satisfied everything was in place. Tearing up, he whispered, “Bring. In. The. Books.”

From @roshd: 

Her autobiography was a runaway success adorning the bookshelves of all the major bookstores. It had the classical ingredients of a potboiler: Action, love, lust, betrayal and death of the unfaithful lover.

Dead men don’t speak so I won’t say that she did the betraying. I’ll let the bitch take over. The bitch called karma.

From @sourcasm:

There lay the now charred board of Arjun's shop 'Of Bookstores and Bookshelves'. A faulty wire had caused the fire according to the local police, destroying everything.

"We've done our part, now you repay our gambling debt from the insurance money" warned the loan shark.

Arjun had sold his dream for freedom from past mistakes.

From @Jonty_Pinto: 

The books along his bookshelf were clustered with dust. His busy tech life and tiring office works almost made him forget those books. Now after ages he began to clean the bookshelf and arranged the books. He took his favorite novel and began to read, as he relished those indelible memories of his young age.

From @WickdWeirdWitch: 

He: History

She: Medical fiction

They lived on adjacent shelves. They would whisper sweet-nothings to each other & compare notes on whose spine had aged well. They longed for the humans to sleep, so that they could wake up!

Till she was lent to a friend.

Soon, he lay with a dislocated spine in desolation!

From @elwingt: 

I long to be held. To be opened, perused, shared, loved, marked. Anything. I don't even mind being left in a cafe. To be written in with crayon, by your nephew with jammy hands.

But how can you find me? I contain dreams and dragons. And this idiot shopkeeper has shelved me with Gardening Manuals!

From @vagabondinact: 

The sagging wood held up only with sheer will to offer support to the last book. Tiny and frail, it did need the support to recline against the aged wood, which once had proudly displayed a hundred and his clan row after row had stood like soldiers. They lost, to a thing they called e-reader.

From @lungfakeer: 

He buys books by the dozens, week after week.Like a habit of life, he goes to the same old bookstore, comes home, puts the books on the bookshelves.

The bookseller died, the bookstore, closed.Now he has nowhere to go. Except for remnants of thoughts of the glory days past.

From @GhodaGaadi: 

Its an isolated shelf, in a dimly lit corner. He follows her behind it making sure they were alone. He runs a finger down her slender back and smells her sweet perfume. But her words silenced him before he could whisper how much he loved her. The cover read Wisdom of Khalil Gibran.

From @mmrunal: 

She kept reading to all the famous writers who pour down their heart in every single creation of theirs, yet she felt incomplete. She has gone through every shelf in the library, searched every bookstore of the city, but couldn't find anything close to his endearments for her! After all, love letters aren't found in bookstores.

From @_souringpie: 

“Hey Gatsby, don’t lean over me!” “Sorry, Godfather. Those Potters are bulldozing me!” “We have a new neighbor. Hobbit?” “Looks pretty bright.” ” 1984, who’s the new ‘musthave’?” “Some alien.””What? Godfather!!” ”Relax, our bookstore is secured. Holmes?””It’s Indian named Bhagavad-Gita.””Bloody Indians, reached our bookstore too?” ”Winter is here?” ”Namaste! I’ll help you!”

From @writingchalk: 

Murder! The scream came from one corner.

In another forgotten corner, cupids began to fly.

“I have a dream,” said Martin Luther King, atop two others.

Right at the front, Ruskin Bond whispered about another adventure.

Finally, RoboCop dispensed justice swiftly, honourably.

Oh, the thrill of spending a day with your best friends is unmatchable.

From @aseemrastogi2: 

Books were his getaway from the dreadful world around him. Emotions like love and happiness never existed in his psyche until he found his refuge. Bookstores of any kind gave him the peace of mind he so dearly craved for. He sat by the bookshelf each day reading whatever he could lay his hands on.