Philip sought a good book to live in.
He’d tilted at windmills with Quixote, rafted rivers with Huck, and fished with the old man in the sea.
Finally he decided to make a permanent home. With eyes closed, he chose the first book he touched and entered.
“In the beginning…”
Alison just loves a good book, or a short story for that matter.
I scanned the book shelves, mulling over the titles, humming to myself as I went along.
Nothing grabbed my interest so I skipped to the next shelf, keeping myself hopeful.
Then he walked up behind me and smiled.
“You know, sometimes you should just let a good story find you.”
Hannah Worth wrote this story.
I refuse to read the books I’ve bought, I only organize them.
They’re clenched tightly on my bookshelf: alphabetized and dusted daily. The spines are bound as one, like a row of incisors rotting with black titles.
When you’re bereaved, you can’t help preserving the past.
These books were Matthew’s.
Dustin holds a screenwriting degree from California State University Long Beach and currently works as a performer at Disneyland, Anaheim. This is his first submitted piece of flash fiction.
Australia, the young man knew,
Held many things for him to do
And proud Brazil, whose flag was green,
Was filled with things that he had seen
He’d studied well the Paris streets
Some day, he said, he’d visit Greece
A wanderer, he called himself
Exploring books upon his shelf