This one will be dedicated to a book’s page 69. I will post one or more sentences from the page that seem interesting/fun.
I started with this one in 2015 (May), and here is the backstory on how I got the idea: You all probably know that publishers often put something on the back to attract people. Something like turn to “insert page number”. Well, according to a writer’s 2006 book you should pick page 69 to determine if you want to read the book (Find Your Perfect Novel).
Friday’s Page 69 ~ In the Shadow of Blackbirds by Cat Winters
The pocket doors to the front hall crashed open. Mrs. Embers stumbled into the studio, strands of dark hair falling across her eyes. “I need your help, Julius. I’m hurt.” She clutched her stomach.
“Christ!” Julius put down the flash lamp. “Get them out of here, Gracie.” He charged across the room and grabbed his mother by the arm to escort her away.
“You need to go immediately.” Grace handed me Stephen’s parcel and pushed on my back to get me to move faster.
I looked over my shoulder. “What happened to Mrs. Embers?”
“Please, just go.”
Friday’s Page 69 ~ Hollowpox: The Hunt for Morrigan Crow by Jessica Townsend
It was a cheerful ending to a brilliant Christmas Eve. But when Fenestra showed up to take her home, Morrigan was surprised to realise she felt a certain amount of relief.
She adored Hawthorne’s family. She really did. She loved the way that Cat and Dave teased each other. Homer made her laugh all the time, and even though she’d only just met Helena, she liked her already. She didn’t even mind being tyrannised by Baby Dave. And Hawthorne, well…. he was her best friend.
But, although she would never have let it show, being around the Swifts all together like this made Morrigan feel a tiny bit… what was it? Not jealous, exactly. Just…
Well, yes. Jealous. If she was being honest with herself.
Friday’s Page 69 ~ Bridge of Souls by Victoria Schwab
Mr. Blanc clears his throat, and I realize I’m the only one who hasn’t joined hands.
“Don’t worry,” says Mr. Blanc. “The spirits cannot hurt you.”
Well, that’s a straight-up lie, I think, remembering all the ghosts I’ve met in the veil who’ve tried to kill me.
Friday’s Page 69 ~ Don’t Tell A Soul by Kirsten Miller
Some said the portrait, painted weeks before Grace’s death, had been a prophecy of the tragedy yet to come. Others swore up and down that the girl didn’t show up on the wall until after Grace died. Many attempts were made to locate the artist, but the person appeared to have vanished into thin air. Over the days that followed, the manor’s servants became convinced that Grace’s restless spirit remained in Louth Manor. They claimed she would emerge from the painting after dark and roam the halls. Then, late one night, Fredrick Louth was found dead in the rose room. The doctors said he’d suffered a heart attack trying to pry the plaster off the walls.
Friday’s Page 69 ~ 45 Pounds (More or Less) by K.A. Barson
Mike crosses the kitchen and hugs her. “You’re the best wife anyone could ask for,” he says. “Thank you for not killing my mother.”
“Damn straight,” says Mom. “And you’re welcome. I could have easily, you know, and no court would convict me.”
“I know”, he says.
Friday’s Page 69 ~ Freshers by Tom Ellen, Lucy Ivison
It started on Abbey’s sixteenth birthday. We’d only been going out a couple of months, and I was coming back from holiday when I realized I hadn’t got her a card. The card shop at the airport had a pretty rubbish selection, and the only vaguely birthday-related one said ‘You are 8 today!’ and had a big colourful badge on the front. I gave it to her that night and she’d cracked up laughing.
After that, it snowballed: every Christmas, birthday and anniversary, we competed to see which of us could give the most random, obscure, inappropriate card.
Friday’s Page 69 ~ Girl Out of Water by Nat Luurtsema
Mum is bent over the kitchen worktop sifting through a pile of soggy junk mail, peeling something of the back of a takeaway pizza menu. I hope both my parents haven’t gone mad, who’ll raise me? I still need much parenting.
“Are you making that noise?” I ask.
“Yes!” she cries, without looking up. “Quick, get some black clothes on.”
“Black clothes?” says Lav, who’s inserted herself into her skinny jeans and is now behind me. “Are we doing a burglary?”
“Emergency mime?” I suggest. (Pretty pleased with that.)
“No!” Mum wails. “Your uncle…” She peers closely at the peeled off piece of wet post.
“… Hamish, no Harold, died last week. I didn’t realize the funeral was today. Get dressed!”
“Help!” she says. “Damn it, somebody help me!”
The bear looms above her. From this angle, it’s huge; it’s all Dawn can see. Its harsh breathing is all Dawn can hear. And it suddenly seems stupid that this is how she’s going to die, eaten by a bear -a black bear- in the middle of nowhere, screaming for her life and probably peeing her pants.
And then a gunshot cracks behind her.
Friday’s Page 69 ~ In a Glass Grimmly by Adam Gidwitz
“Your cup is in the sky?” asked Jack.
“It’s not a cup,” the old woman corrected him. “It’s a glass. A looking glass, A mirror. In fact, it is called the Seeing Glass, and it is very old, and very important. In fact, it might be the most important and the most powerful looking lass in the history of the world.”
Jack and Jill stared at the old lady wondering if she was, perhaps, a little bit insane.
Friday’s Page 69 ~ Lucy Locket: Online Disaster by Emma Moss
The audition had been all right, Lucy reflected in PE, as she stood on the rounders field keeping a lazy eye on the game. Not too scary, and she managed not to stammer by concentrating hard on her singing. It had been quite fun watching some of the boys… all trying to out-cool each other as potential leather-jacketed T-Birds. Suddenly an image of Sam entered her mind. Well, if she were honest, he’d entered her mind a few times – OK, a lot of times – since she’d seen him at the farm on Sunday. She was counting down the days until she’d see him again, even though the thought of talking to him made her stomach fall into her shoes.