Narrative Essay

The soft chime of the solemn bell was to be heard as the man closed the door. A wave of musty, old books and frequently polished shelves freshened over. The aging existence of the room was visible by the occupation of the eight legs over the thick, worn out books- books in which wonders lie inside.

The sign ‘Closed’ signaled the end of another day as the sun sets: another unsuccessful day for the man was to be accepted. Was it eternal that no one would visit his place? He asked himself yet, no answer to come up with.

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His eagerness to welcome a customer was never fulfilled by fate, just yet.

The man surveyed the place realizing handful amount of sweats were to be sacrificed to prepare the book shop for tomorrow. Books laid scrappily everywhere whilst the oak shelves seemed just short from being dismantled with a minor force like dominoes. The stale atmosphere didn’t help neither since it was enough to suffocate one person’s life within minutes.

However, none of this were a bother to the man and within a blink of his eyes, the whole place was set perfectly again for the next day- inhuman as it seemed.

The dusted, mahogany craved mirror revealed the sides of pain and pleasure in which seemed personally balanced according to the man; the look of himself on the mirror was in which the reason behind his belief. Viking-gold hair coiffed to perfection, ocean blue eyes and the lineaments of his face flawlessly proportion to each other was what he saw. However, the alternate side portrayed fossilized hair and nebulous eyes in match for the toil worn face. He could have been handsome, though; perhaps, he was never destined this but instead, chosen for it.

He moaned again and again due to the severe pain as his eyes unfolds the memories, the bitter ones…

The old man inched forward with eagerness to lend a hand as the little boy doesn’t seemed right. “Can I help you?”

“No sir, I am fine” the boy responded, completely in awe due to the size of the bookshop.

The boy then teleported across all the sections, his eyes widening more once he passed a section.

“What’s your name son?”

Scuffing through the section of old books, the boy replied “Hendrick.”

The light glowing dimly from the lamp, made Hendrick realized how long he had been spending in the bookshop. He reluctantly picked up his bag, aware of how much outside have faded. As he was about to hold doorknob, a sudden thud sound crashed in.

“Since you were my main guest today, I have a present for you” the old man uttered with pride, a menacing smile wrapped on his face.

As he stood down from the ladder, the old man gently placed a rectangular object enfolded in the moldy cotton.

“The story’s about a book which is cursed in which the owner of the book can get away once he or she hands it to another person who will willingly accept it” the old man explained thoroughly with his eyes not off Hendrick’s for a second. However, what he said was drained away in Hendrick’s ears as his eyes couldn’t set off the book which shined lustrously. The golden letters on the front page shined luminously despite being coated by dust.

Hendrick thankful of how eager the old man was to hand him something such prestigious, took the hand offered to him with a confident shake. “My pleasure” he beamed.

Regardless of what his eyes unfolded, nothing was more appealing than the ever-luminous book. Is the brightness of the book was too shimmering for his eyes to handle or is it the history he had with it that makes the book untouchable?

As the stars rise above, he waits impatiently for another day in search for fate leads towards.

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