failing

{I think I’m failing my weekly short story challenge. Way overwhelmed. I got one started this week. But the idea quickly morphed into a longer story than I had time to tell this week. But I’m going to share a snippet of the original idea.}

 

Mrs. Saints turned around. I looked down at what she held. An odd tingling ran through my fingers. She was holding a book.

She held it out. I stared at the cover. Its beautiful reddish brown leather, crumbling from centuries of use.

“Take it.”

I gaped at her. “Really?”

She nodded.

I reached to take it. The crumbling leather brushed my skin and I cradled it in my hands. With trembling finger-tips I opened it. The black words were crowded together in endless straight rows, nearly blotting out the yellowing white of the page. A sweet musty whiff of subtle scent wafted up at me, and I glanced at Mrs. Saints in astonishment. She just smiled at me.

Books had a scent? Unbelievable.

I concentrated on the words and was able to pick out a few lines. I couldn’t help the wonder that pulled my mouth upward into a smile.

“What’s it called?”

“It’s Paradise Lost. Written by John Milton who died in 1674.”

Paradise Lost. I was sure in that paradise there were books.

I flipped through the pages gingerly. The amount of words was massive. “Have you read the whole thing?”

She grinned at me like a kid. “Three times. And sometimes I just come and hold it. Smelling the pages, feeling the leather.”

I could believe that. I lifted it close to my face and breathe the perfume.

“You can take it home and read it.”

I looked at her astonished. “Oh, I could never read this whole book. It’s massive.” But I felt a tingle run down my spine. Could I?

“You’ll only be able to get through it if you really want to.” Mrs. Saints turned and pulled a case from a cabinet. “Just keep it in its case when you’re not using it. And try not to flash it around much. It’s rather an expensive piece.”