Before you read, this is a school assignment, so ingore all of the underlined stuff. That's the part that my teacher is grading me on. I've had quite a few people read this, and everyone said they really liked it. This assignment was done on a Harris Burdick picture. If you haven't heard of him, look him up. His whole background story is quite a mystery. The picture that I wrote it about is on the side. Enjoy!
He had warned her about the book. Now it was to late. Nothing could save her from the peaceful sleep of death that had consumed her. The book, still opened at her side, released her hand from its thorny clutches, and wiggled itself back into the last page, the only witness of the poor girl’s passing. Nobody would know what happened to her, they would only know her as the girl who made a scene in the bookstore.
DING!
The chime of bells interrupted the quiet mood of the small bookstore. In came a teenager, chewing gum with loud music blasting from her headphones. It was 9 o’clock on a cold December night and the store was about to close. This was no place for her to be, especially in shorts. The shopkeeper came around promptly, yelling at the girl to turn her music down.
“Geez Grandpa, can’t handle a little rock?” she scoffed, picking up the book nearest her.
“Put down! Fragile!” the shopkeeper shouted yet again.
“But what if I want to buy it? Name a price, my parents are rich!” she bragged, not releasing the book from her bony, ring covered fingers. They were as thin as a skeletons, locked around the first thing they could find.
“Not for sale! Leave shop. Loud music not welcome here!” the little Chinese man screeched, trying to shoo her out.
Instead, she ignored him and continued to look around the shop. Soon, a multicolored bound volume caught her eye. Mrs. Linden’s Library, it read. As she picked it up, she felt a small purr resonate through her hand. The book felt alive; there was something more to it than the rest. She had to have it.
“How much is this one?” she asked the shopkeeper, pulling off her headphones.
The shopkeeper yanked the book out of her clutches yet again.
“Hey! I wanted that!” she screamed, outraged at the shopkeeper’s behavior.
“This not for sale either! Get out!” he tried yet again to shoo her out of the store, but she held her ground. She was stubborn, a rock that couldn’t be moved.
“How much is the book? I will give $100 for it,” she coaxed.
“Only rent it. No buy. Just don’t read to last page! Okay little girl?” he reluctantly gave her the book with an ominous warning. Then he was gone, disappearing quickly into his office.
The girl was elated. She had the book! She took it home and opened to the first duotone page.
“Once upon time, in a far away land, there was a mystical library. Only witches and wizards were allowed to enter, for the books there were of magical origin, and would only appear for them. The library was run by an enchantress that went by the name of Versala Linden, thus giving the store the name, “Mrs. Linden’s Library.” One day, a little boy came to the library, but he was not a wizard, so no books opened for him. But one pamphlet in the back called to him. It was quite small really, and very old. It’s three pages wrinkled and tattered with the smudges of fingerprints. A brownish-yellow hue stuck to the paper, it must’ve been in the back for at least a thousands years. So the boy stole it, and took it home to his mother. His mother scolded him for stealing such a valuable item. “You must return it at once! But since you already have it, read it while you can,” she dismissed, running off to do her work. And the boy did. He read the three pages. They each told great and vivid stories, but when he got to the last one, it was blank. Not even a spec graced its crinkled pages. Suddenly, a small leaf sprang out of its words. Then a thorn, then a branch. The boy was afraid; the book must’ve been cursed with Versala’s magic. The small branch then grasped his hand, pricking his index finger with the sharpest of its thorns. The boy then fell asleep, never to be woken again. The book was found in the library the next day, with four pages.”
Reading on, the girl couldn’t help but notice that each page had a different character. The book was 700 pages, so that meant 700 characters! She looked up to see that the time was now 11:23. She had been reading for reading for 8 hours and had read a total of 437 pages without even noticing. Deciding that it was now to late to read any further, she decided to turn in for the night. Seconds after she turned off the light though, she heard the book calling to her yet again. Quickly turning the lights back on, she grabbed the book. A few more pages couldn’t do any harm. Could it?
After another 200 pages and another 2 hours, she came to the last page. Ignoring the shopkeeper’s warning she started to read anyways. It was too good to put down! As she kept on reading, she came across the most interesting story in the book yet. It was about a bossy teenager with rich parents. The teenager saw the book and wanted to buy it, but Versala wouldn’t let her. Midway through the 2nd paragraph, a small leaf popped out of the page. Then a thorn, then a branch. She was afraid; this is exactly what happened in the book every time somebody read the last page! She felt a small pinch in her finger and a single drop of blood fell from the pinprick that the thorn left behind. She began to feel dizzy, and laid down to rest, not giving a single thought to what had just creeped out of the book at her side. She slowly fell into a peaceful sleep, never to be woken again.
The next day, the shopkeeper found the book exactly where it had been before the girl had taken it. He did a quick glance through and shook his head in disappointment, tucking the worn out leather back into the shelves. The book now had 701 pages.
