He waited till the street lamps cast their dull amber glare upon the rows of other books, making the shelves appear like giant ribs of a sunken treasure ship. He knew he was the treasure, even if no one else in the world believed. He would show them. He would take his rightful place among the antiquities. Down he climbed and stole across the marble tiles to the Holy of Holies; the sacred section known to the world as HISTORY. A deep voice resonated from JAZZ. “Where you going B.I.B.L.E.? You best get your thick black binder back in 'RELIGION!'”
Bill Sells is a former newspaper correspondent turned children’s writer, poet, and flash-fiction something or other. He has one middle-reader novel, one picture book, and can be found online at some of the seediest flash-fiction sites. He is lucky enough to live on the Chesapeake Bay with his honey and their three-legged pup, Jaybird.