Fool's Gold and Treasures Untold
I strolled beside my old companions, tracing my forefinger along their spines. A fine layer of dust coated my fingertip and I paused for a moment to inspect the measure of time between my family’s last usage of the library. I sighed and blew the fluff into the air to watch it dance suspended in the beams of the setting sun reaching down through the high arched windows across from me. The oak-paneled walls grew warm and glowed, casting a golden light about the room. I remembered how I once loved spending my time here, passing hour upon hour immersed in the pages of these books. I continued to trace the perimeter of the room, lost in nostalgia when something shook me gently from my indulgent stupor. Glancing over my shoulder I examined the place over which my hand hovered. Where I had expected to brush the binding of more of the same leather-bound and girthy volumes, there was a small black moleskin notebook that I had never seen before, tucked cozily into the crevice between two much larger novels. I glanced around the room swiftly, though I’m not sure why, before attempting to encourage it out of its hiding place. This proved to be a small task that required the removal of the two protecting bodies of work that surrounded it before I could lay my hands on the stranger. I crossed the room to a stiff and hostile armchair in the corner to make a table of my lap for further examination. Untying the fine ribbon I gently peeled apart the yellowing pages filled with narrow and elegant handwritten script. Intrigue flooded me as I wondered about its origins. It seemed too old to belong to anyone in this family. But surely it must have all the same. I made a mental note to ask my parents about it when they returned home from work, which shouldn’t be too much longer. My eyes rested on the first page and I could not resist the pull. I began to read.
