………….

I’m old now, very old. I sit in the same chair every day, my body moulded to it like a comfortable shoe. From my chair I see the books, like a centre peice to my being. It’s the second from the bottom, the one facing outward. It really just looks like all the others, but mark my words, its contents will shake the foundation of every member of my lineage. I long to touch the pages, to run my fingers over the slightly raised script. Yet as terrifying and beautiful as that would be, I dare not unleash its contents. It must remain closed, until I am no longer of this world.

I feel death calling me, gently tugging at my resolve. I know I must go, but I fear what I leave in my wake.