This was what flowed from my fingertips, sitting in class...
Trapped
in the Pages of Insanity
The sun, burning
through the early morning fog, cut the chill like a barber’s razor. Grass crunched under heavy feet, dew
glistening like diamonds.
The tattered
remains of a former life scattered the lawn on rickety wooden tables. Brightly colored plastic, smooth glazed
ceramics, and tarnished metal beckoned like the perfume of a beautiful woman.
Among the broken
toys and tattered clothing, he saw something – something as beautiful as it was
terrible. He’d been looking for this
book for years, and here it was – tossed aside like garbage.
His fingers
gingerly brushed the cover, cool to the touch… jagged along a torn edge. He lifted it, the smell of paper, ink, and
dust – a heady aroma to any bibliophile – assaulted his senses and touched
parts of him he’d thought long dead.
He must have it!
Setting the book
down, he reached for his wallet. He
checked for cash and, elated with his find, went to grab his treasure again.
It was gone!
He looked
around, wild eyed and panicked. He must
have it! Where’d it go?
A woman walked
away from him, something in her hands.
“Give it to me,”
he shouted.
She looked at
him as if he’d gone mad.
“I just found
it! You can’t take it!”
She shook her
head and turned to leave.
He ran, tackling
her from behind and knocking her to the ground.
“I have to have
it!” His eyes, glazed with adrenaline,
bulged from his face.
He ripped it out
of her hands, only to find his treasured book was a lunchbox the lady had just
bought.
He rolled off
her, defeated… depressed…
He laid there,
looking up at a clear blue sky. In the
distance, flashing lights and sirens grew closer.
As soon as he
escaped again, he’d find his precious book…
His prize…
His treasure…
… that part of his soul he’d lost so long ago to the ravages of time and insanity.
No comments:
Post a Comment