As smoke bellows far above the cylinder shaped building infecting the clouds and soaking the sky. A man Parts the shelves that are filled with many treatise on math to biographies to fantasies all men wish they could go. He dashed to a hall At the end of the passageway covered in literature he entered the beginning of another. passing greats territories of works made to soon be put under in beds of ash.
He ran to the chamber and what was once a space of joy now had what he saw as a monstrosity hanging from the roof envelopeing the walls as it scarred the only treasure to the man. it clutched many book in it cindering arms yet nothing could keep in it grip for long.
He tumbled and grabbed the only tome he truely fell in love with, the opus that the woman he loved made, the one part of her he could still touch. He cryed out as the last thing he thought was "it wasn't the books I loved I vow that for what seconds of the next year i see i will look at only you my love". the great collection that the man made ended on one sour note.
YOU ARE READING
short stories
Short Storya book that isn't related to any series and it is just going to be a bunch of short stories i come up will on the spot if I find a word or scenario that's interesting
