Jackson watched as the old man placed the leather-bound book upon a table at the far end of the cellar. His apparent reverence of the tome held Jackson in thrall as softly-spoken, indiscernible words pervaded the air and shadows cast by the flickering candle flame danced upon the walls.

He’d feared his search for anything of value among the overburdened shelves would be in vain but now felt persistence had worked in his favour.

That book clearly held some importance. It had value.

Jackson waited patiently for the old man to depart before he ventured out to claim his prize.

100 Word #weekendchallenge by @WriteStoryBooks
Enchanted Journal – © 2022 Paul J. Fleming

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