Turn the page each day, and more words appear…

Posted: July 15, 2012 in cops, crime novel, detective stories, mystery novel, novels, police procedurals, suspense novel, Uncategorized
(please refer to the beginning of this blog, July 11th, Crack It Open, regarding the intention behind this site)
     What if you went into your local book store, and found a cover on a random shelf that seemed to draw you to it.  You glanced at the other spines, scanning everything surrounding it, but your eyes, no matter what direction they travel, stopped by that cover repeatedly, as if it would disappear if left unnoticed for too long.  You slide it off the shelf.  The dust jacket has raised lettering, the colors on it are primary and deep, yet no matter how hard you focus, the image remains blurred.  Hold it in a better light.  The colors jump at you, glossy, blazing.  You draw your hand across that face and yet can’t distinguish a single recognizable letter from the bumps that rise and fall beneath your fingertips .  Some mishap at the printer; why wasn’t this caught before offering it to the public?  Don’t waste your time.  Put it back where it was.
     Perhaps the jacket was the only thing affected.  Are the contents unaltered?  You grab it once more and flip the hardbound front cover, the first time ever for this copy.  It resists and you push, not to be denied.  You turn the pages, one after another, finding them blank.  You snap it shut, curse it under your breath and return it to the shelf.
     You can’t sleep that night.  Nothing will detour you from the thoughts of that book.  An unsettling queasiness churns in the pit of your stomach.  Is it still there?  Did someone after you pick it up and take it for a journal?  You lie in the depths of the night, beads of sweat forming on your brow, never losing sight of the clock next to the bed; its glowing numbers suspended in blackness.  You try to will time forward.
     In the morning you go to the store, to find it still closed.  Get coffee nearby, the first thing you’ve had since holding the book in your hands.  You drink, pace, and check the time.  The attendant unlatches the entry door, three minutes late by your watch, and you brush by him.  Another clerk approaches you, smiling.
     “Can I help you?” she asks.
     “No, thanks,” you say.  You realize, nobody can.  To do this is on you alone.
     Anxiety heightens, as you try to remember where you were; what aisle?  what shelf?  Thoughts are disjointed.  The more you reason, the further lost you become.  Breaths are short and you feel the pulses of your heart, beating strong enough to thump blood into your hands.  The book is hiding from you, or worse is gone.  Every calculated search  ends in empty frustration.  Enough.  Release it.  Stop thinking.
     A wave of calm flows across you.  Your knotted shoulders loosen, you take in a long, rejuvenating breath.  The incessant electricity that has surged through you subsides, and leaves your body in a quiet and comfortable state.  There is no longer the kaleidoscopic rush of images running through your head, and you now stroll along the carpeted rows.  You take turns here and there, not knowing why, but it feels like the right thing to do.  And then, an urge to slow down, turn to the left, second shelf from the top…there it is.  Grasping it with both hands, you rest your head on the front cover, your body leaning against the bookcase, knees weak.  Straightening, you hold the book at arm’s length.  The title remains fuzzy, but the author’s name at the bottom is crystal, sharp.  The name is yours.
     The top cover opens with ease, and words, in pencil, fill the front page.  A story has begun, with names and places you recognize, if only from your dreams.  Yet the following pages remain untouched.  You hold the book tightly to your chest and bring it to the front counter, setting it down, but leaving one hand pressed in uninterrupted contact.  It will always be with you.
     “Just take it,” the clerk says, “it’s yours.”  He leans forward and whispers, “We’ll see it in here again, when it’s finished.”
     Tomorrow, Monday July 16th, I’ll begin, They Had the Right to Remain Silent, a story I hope you will follow, enjoy and let others know about.  God willing, my commitment is to enter a piece to the puzzle each day.  Feedback is welcomed and encouraged.  See you then…

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