By Joel Bryant
The frail bookseller sat in his room full of books, which he could no longer read.
Some he feared, but he cherished them all.
The customer arrived for his purchase, an infamous grimoire, bound in its creator’s skin. The bookseller said he lamented the sale, but infirmity left him little choice. Needs must.
The customer scoffed with haughty disdain when warned of the book’s reputation. Such arrogance, but not unexpected.
The book returned a month later, scandal-tainted and shunned.
The invigorated bookseller returned to his room full of books. He could again read them. That was a part of their pact.
Nicely chilling 🙂 (I’m on the bookseller’s side! Lol)
Thanks Liz, me too 🙂
Got me to look up grimoire. Your story casts a spell, and in iso few words.
Glad you enjoyed the story, Bruce. I could have used by spell book instead, but that’s two words.