All of my writing is fiction, and the stories and characters are products of my imagination. They were created for my fun and, hopefully, your enjoyment. Some of the events in the stories are not particularly condoned nor encouraged by the author but are there to create and enhance the story of the imaginary characters and their lives. Comments are always encouraged and carefully reviewed. All characters within the story that need to be are 18 years of age or older. I hope you enjoy! And take a second to vote and comment.
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Trish was bored. It was Saturday afternoon, and she'd had an Egg McMuffin meal for breakfast, had done the laundry and run the vacuum, and was ready to go shopping with her best friend, Ginger. But when Ginger called and announced that she had a throbbing migraine, that plan was scrapped.
She felt sorry for Ginger; Trish had never had migraines and could only imagine what they must be like. But, it had First or fly into work fouled up the plans for her day, and, being a very orderly person, she liked things to move along smoothly with no interruptions or other unexpected turns.
Trish found a Lunchables grilled cheese sandwich in her freezer, something she'd forgotten about, and wondered how it would taste as old as it apparently was. But it was good, and she devoured it quickly, wondering what she'd do next. As usual, she conversed with herself aloud, a product of living alone, she guessed.
"I guess I could go shopping alone. After all, I'm a big girl now.". Trish was twenty-seven and a six-foot-tall former volleyball player.
"You could," her other self said, "but you'll just buy silly stuff because you're bored."
Sometimes, she wished that other voice would just keep quiet.
"I can control myself. Besides, my bank account is a little low."
"You'll just use a credit card," her other self replied.
Trish shook her head. "I'm bored, and I'm going," she declared.
Thirty minutes later, she was pulling into the parking lot of the Breckenridge Shopping Center. Trish parked, rearranged her hair slightly, checked her purse for her credit card, and headed into the mall. It had gotten a little cool lately, and she was wearing a thin, lemon-colored jacket.
Trish wandered as she chose since she had no specific destination in mind. She admired some dresses in the Saks Fifth Avenue store, but they were far too expensive to even try on. She stopped at Starbucks and bought a Latte to sip as she wandered. She tried on some shoes and finally purchased some sandals which were on sale because it was near the season's end.
Trish was about to retrace her steps when she spotted Old Books 'n Stuff, her favorite place to browse, relax, and read. She went straight there.
"Trish, I haven't seen you in a while," the owner, whose name she couldn't recall, said as she came through the door.
"I know. I guess I've just been distracted and working hard and haven't had time to do much reading." She smiled and looked around, catching sight of the little sign that stated,
Joan Connors - Proprietor
. " How have you been, Joan?" she added.
"Fair to middlin', I guess. Business is a little slow. That's why I added the 'n Stuff to the name. I have games and other little items to generate a little more cash flow. Hardcover and paperback books aren't the most popular these days. Do you have one of those Kindle things, too?"
Trish chuckled. "My friends all say that I'm stubborn, but no, I don't have one. You know, when I read, I want to relax and be carried off to another place. I don't need some electronic thing in my hand reminding me of how fast the world is moving and changing. Do you know what I mean?"
"I sure do, honey. You sound a lot like me. Most of the books I sell these days are the classics that people want to have on their bookshelves. I doubt that they read them, but they like to have them, you know. The other thing is that most of those books are old, and I paid very little for them. But, since people want them, and they are classics, I make a bit of profit, and it allows me to keep the store open.
"That sounds good for you, then. I have a few of those, too, and I've read them all, but I like to have them on the shelf. I guess I hope people will think I'm sophisticated."
"I sold copies of
Wuthering Heights, The Sun Also Rises, A Tale of Two Cities
and
War and Peace
just this morning." Joan had a very satisfied look on her face. "Go ahead and look around. I bet you'll find something. Oh, and most of the classics are on the balcony."
The store wasn't that big but had a balcony lined with shelves that circled the main room. Trish checked a table of new arrivals but didn't see anything that interested her. She decided to follow Joan's hinted advice and climbed the stairs to the balcony. She saw lots and lots of familiar titles. There were several Jack London books, and after she'd gone to Alaska and the Yukon, she'd been curious and read most of them.
Joan had a small case with autographed copies of books, which were much more expensive. Trish decided that perhaps one day, she'd be able to buy a couple of those to really impress people with her sophistication. She laughed to herself at that thought. She knew you didn't become sophisticated by buying a book or two.
As she was about to give up and buy a trinket from the 'n Stuff table in the main room, Trish spotted a not-too-badly-worn copy of
Little Women
. She'd read that book in high school and thought it would be fun to have a copy, as she remembered enjoying it. She thought she might read it again just to see if it was as enjoyable as she remembered.
Ah,
Little Women
," Joan said when she laid the book on the counter and was ready to pay for it. "I sell a few copies of this one every year."
"This was the only copy I saw on the shelves up there."
"Hmm, I'll have to check that. I thought I had more."
Trish paid using her credit card. She made a quick stop to peruse the 'n Stuff table but didn't see anything that struck her fancy, so she exited the store and headed for the mall door. Back in her car, she smiled at the plastic bag and couldn't resist. She pulled the book from the bag and began examining it. It was in surprisingly good condition, she decided. As she began to slowly leaf through the pages, a carefully folded piece of paper dropped onto her lap.
She traded the book for the paper and gently unfolded it. It was some sort of a note, handwritten in a very precise manner, the letters slanted much more than is usually done in cursive. She read the note.
I'm so glad that you've purchased this book. I've chosen you to join me in discussing the book and determining how it can be applied to your life. I'll be in touch. Blessings to you.
Trish wasn't sure what to do. The note seemed to have been left there by the previous owner, who was probably the original receiver of the note. Despite that thought, Trish had misgivings, as the note had no signs of age, with the creases not being sharp and flattened as they should have been if they'd been in the book for any length of time.
She stared at the note for another moment, then refolded it and slipped it between the pages of the book. She shook her head, laughing at herself for being concerned about a random note in a book from a used bookstore. She decided to celebrate not spending much money at the mall by spending it on a steak at Longhorn Steakhouse.
The steak was thick and delicious, the loaded baked potato more than tasty, and the garden salad was fresh, crisp, and healthy. It was probably more than she should have spent for dinner, but she was tired of grilled cheese sandwiches and frozen dinners. She knew that was her own fault as she knew how to cook but hated to do it. She was stuffed and wanted only to flop into the recliner and watch a movie.
Trish parked in her usual spot, grabbed the bag, locked the car, and was climbing the four steps to her front door when something caught her eye. A chill enveloped her when she saw it was a carefully folded note taped to the door. She stared at it, seemingly frozen to the spot. She reasoned that it was probably from a neighbor wanting to borrow something or let Trish know about something that was going on. Still, after what had happened earlier, she felt justified in being, well, alarmed.
But it was just a piece of paper, and someone had taped it to her door, so it needed to be opened and read. Trish climbed the last two steps and pulled the note off the door. She shivered and wondered if it was the chill of the evening ... or something else.
When Trish opened the note, she inhaled sharply. She didn't have to read it to see that it was written in the same heavily slanted cursive as the note in the book.
"What the hell is going on?" she said aloud. Clutching the new note and the bag, she unlocked the door and went inside, carefully relocking the door once she was inside. She sat on the couch and set the bag beside her. Trish took a deep breath and unfolded the note.
Take your time reading the book, but I can hardly wait to get together with you to talk about it and your life. I'll check back with you to see if you're finished. Until then, au revoir.
Talking about the book was one thing, but talking about her life was another thing and way too personal. And even as she was processing those thoughts, she realized they were logical, and what was happening was not logical in the least. She read the note a second time and then a third. She shrugged her shoulders. This was like something you'd read about in a scary book, but it was real. She wondered.
