Rules are: write a title, set a timer for three minutes, and write like mad! Post whatever you come up with, whether it’s turned into a story or not.
Feel free to join! (And to tweak a few sentences once the timer runs out. No judgement! It’s just for fun.)BookshopIt’s bigger than it looks outside.
The steps lead down into a room full of books, full of shelves and vines and leafy plants, and I wander through it. It’s a maze, a maze I could get lost in. A maze I almost want to get lost in.
Most of the books have titles that I don’t recognize, author’s names that I’ve never heard of, and some of them are in other languages. French, German. Italian.
A few are full of print that I don’t recognize, and several are handwritten, smeared and smudged by fingers and ink. I can’t look away.
It’s beautiful, so beautiful that I don’t want to leave, but there’s no one here.No one at all.
I call for the owner, hoping someone will appear from among the stacks of books and maze of shelving, but no one does.
And it’s only then, only when I begin to feel uncomfortable and want to leave, that I realize I’m lost, and the bookshop has swallowed me whole.