It was the library’s fault. She’d asked numerous times for that particular book and every time she’d been told, No problem, we can get that in for you.
Every day after work, she went out of her way, tired, hungry, just wanting to be home – curled up with a good book – and every day it was the same. Bundles of apologies, glitches in the system, the book was out of stock, they were trying inter-library loans and they would have it for her soon, very soon, they promised.
Increasingly it seemed their promises were baseless. But still she went.
Why was the book so important? She’d dreamed it on midsummer’s eve – the title, the blue cover, a hint as to its contents. What was this book? She’d never heard of it, she was certain, yet there it was on the internet. Old, published before she was born. Never popular, written by an author who had retired to the mountains to write another book, and had never resurfaced, book or not.
Today it was there. The librarian handed it over with a hugely complacent smile, saying, there you go, an odd little book, so hard to track down, I do hope you enjoy it.
She grabbed it from the desk, held it to her chest, as precious as any newborn baby.
Hers, at last. Her joy erupted through the pages, released at last – clouds of happiness filled the room, swirling in the air, lifting from the shelves every other book on magic and witchery, bringing them to her.
No more waiting.
Follow the daily writing prompt on Facebook.
Find Cheryl’s flash fiction and short stories, including audio versions of some, here!
Great little yarn – even if it doesn’t fit the picture prompt as you pointed out.
Am totally losing it!