Fading Grey
The door
opened. The visitor walked in. The house was nothing too impressive, shelves
adorned the walls and little nick-knacks adorned the shelves. Couches rested in the center of the room and
a lit fireplace was in front of the couches. The couches looked comfortable, they almost
resembled clouds. A clock was attached
to the fireplace and read twelve midnight.
The wind could be heard launching its assault on the houses walls. Healthy cackling sounds came from the small
fire that lived inside the fireplace.
The host
welcomed the visitor with a smile, even offered some tea, which would be done
momentarily. The visitor declined the
hosts offer. The host smiled even
broader. Words were exchanged and soon
the visitor was shown into the next room by the host, who was still smiling.
In the new room
the visitor saw rows and rows of bookshelves, each one filled to near bursting
from its papery and leather-bound load.
The room was immense, much bigger than the outside of the house seemed
to allow. The visitor ignored this. The host led the way and the visitor
followed. The two passed rows and rows
of books, the visitor looked ahead and only saw more shelves extending into the
darkness. He did not know how the room
was lit, no candles or electric lighting could be seen.
An hour passed,
at least the visitor thought an hour. He
looked down at his watch only to find that the device had stopped working at
twelve-oh-one. The host stopped
suddenly. The visitor almost ran into
the man. The host glanced over the book
bindings and pulled out a book that seemed to have no color. The host smiled and handed the colorless book
over to the guest. The guest looked the
book over. Yes, this was the book he was
looking for. A smile erupted on the visitor's
face.