Write Tribe‘s Wednesday prompt:
The smell of old books
Work it into a story, a poem, an essay……
I saw myself squatting cross legged in the middle of a room, with huge shelves – full of books. In front of me, all around me, I saw stacks and stacks of Mills & Boon, Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, Robin Sharma, Paulo Coelho and so many many more beyond where my eyes could see. Books that I had collected for years. Comics, yellowed, fainting and breaking into bits and papers, disintegrating to touch – Phantom, Mandrake, Tinkle, Bahadur, what not???
I was hunching over an interesting book, expecting to spend my whole life there, gobbling up one book by one book.
In a surreal world, where one doesn’t feel hunger, neither does one ever feel tired.
The musty smell of old books was enticing and drugging me at the same time.
((Ringtone goes bzzzzzz and a tune starts playing))
Sleepily, I try to see who’s calling.
I snap at the phone and go back to sleep.
I can’t smell the scent of old books anymore. Ohhhhhhh 😦 😦