Memoirs Of A Sparrow

The Book

A man stood alone in the dark, draped in a black cloak with the hood pulled low over his face. Rain beat down in relentless, icy sheets as he sloshed his way towards the bookshop across the street. He pushed open the door and a faint tinkling sounded overhead. Candles, interspersed throughout the bookshelves illuminated the quaint interior of the bookstore. The man stood just inside the door, looking around. Apart from him, the shop boasted no other customers this late at night. The bookshop owner, a plump, bespectacled man who had been sitting behind the counter reading, now looked up and spotted the mysterious man. He lowered his book and smiled heartily at the newcomer.
"Welcome!" He said cheerily, "I wasn't expecting anyone this late...how may I help you?"
The cloaked figure said nothing but simply walked forward and began scanning the shelves, searching. He made his way through one aisle after another with mounting frustration at his lack of success. Then, at long last, he spotted what he had been looking for. He felt a tap on his shoulder and stopped but didn't turn around.
"Um, excuse me." Said the bookshop owner, shifting nervously from one foot to the other.
The man did not move a muscle.
"Ahem." The shop owner cleared his throat.
The man turned his hooded head towards the fidgeting bookkeeper and silently fingered the knife concealed within his cloak, but did not pull it out.
"I,er, I was just about to close the shop..." stuttered the bookkeeper. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
The cloaked man raised his arms and saw the shop owner wince as he did so, but he simply reached up towards his hood and slowly lowered it. Candlelight flickered across his face, casting dark shadows over his deeply marred visage. Scars covered a majority of his face, but most prominent among them was a deep gash that began just above his eyebrow and traced its way down to the corner of his mouth, causing it to slant slightly upwards.
The shop owner gasped.
The man reached into the depths of his cloak and withdrew his knife, then, before the bookkeeper had a second to react, plunged the blade deep into his fleshy abdomen. The shop owner's face twisted with an expression of pain and shock as he realized, too late, what had happened. The veiled man removed the knife and the bookkeeper collapsed to the ground, dead. The man glanced briefly down at the body lying at his feet then turned, pulled the book that had been the object of his desire out of the nearby shelf and stalked out of the bookshop, his knife still dripping with blood.