The Story of the Steal-Me Book

A place to post the twistynesses.

Ree watches Grandfather killed over the Steal-Me book.

This is what we wrote this evening.  1,225 words, for a current total of 1,479 words (not counting any of the brainstorming notes).

Ree giggled, both hands over her mouth.  Gwennie would never find her here.  Even Grandfather didn’t know she was hiding in the balcony of his library.  The library was large, with many shelves of books lining its walls.  The balcony was only accessible from the rarely visited green parlor that had once been used as her grandmother’s private retreat.  Draperies on the library walls also helped camouflage the tiny overhanging area. 

Suddenly she became aware of voices below.  Grandfather only invited others into the library when he wished to conduct private business.  The natural curiosity that had gotten Ree into so much trouble already in her eight years urged her forward to peek through the gap in the curtains guarding her hiding space.

Grandfather was sitting in his favorite chair, as always.  Many a happy time had been spent in that chair with him, curled on his lap as he read to her or told her stories of his own boyhood, or hanging over the chair’s arm when it was Gwennie’s turn to occupy the coveted place on his knee.  What she saw this time struck her dumb with fear.  A cloaked figure stood before him, while another figure stood behind the chair, a gleaming knife held to Grandfather’s throat.

“Where is it, you old fool?  Don’t pretend you know nothing.  We know you have the book.  Give it to us and we will allow you to live out your remaining years.”

“Do you think I am that stupid?  You will not leave me alive to hunt you down.  Why should I give you what you seek?  You will kill me either way.”  Grandfather’s eyes sparked with temper, despite the thin trickle of blood on his neck, which gleamed darkly in the candlelight.

The cloaked man laughed, but the sound held no humor.  “Because if you give us the book, we won’t find it necessary to slaughter the remainder of your family as well.  It has been made obvious that they know nothing of the tome, or of the secrets it contains.  Resist us, and we will slay each of them before your eyes, starting with the youngest.  Your littlest granddaughter has beautiful black hair, doesn’t she? It would be such a shame to end her life before she achieves the potential of her full beauty.”

Grandfather looked steadily into the eyes of his would-be murderer. “Idle threats don’t scare me, you foolish child.  Do you honestly think I believe your threats?”

“Threats? I think not,” sneered the villain. “Dirk, fetch me the little brat. Then we’ll see who’s threatening whom.”

Ree knelt, frozen by fear as the grim-faced Dirk started toward the library door. He had almost reached it when Grandfather spoke.

“Wait! I’ll give you the damned book!  Just don’t hurt my girls, you cursed spawn of darkness. Though you’ll not find the treasure you seek. It is far too complex for a simpleton such as yourself.”

At the first word from Grandfather’s mouth, Dirk had halted. He turned, waiting for further instruction from the cloaked man. Personally, Dirk just wanted to get out of this musty old room with the musty looking old man. He had little hope of that happening any time soon, though, judging by the expression on his boss’ face. His expectations were fulfilled when his boss beckoned him back.

“Glad you see things my way, old man. Now, where is the book?”

Grandfather pointed at a far end of the room. “There, under the candle holder on the left.”

“Dirk, keep him from getting any valiant ideas. I’ll just go get our prize and we can be out of here.”  Dirk trudged toward the chair.  He wasn’t looking forward to killing the old man.  Some of the things he’d said to the boss had been so funny Dirk had nearly bit his tongue in two to keep from laughing.  He held no real loyalty to the cloaked man, only to the goodly number of gold pieces that now weighed down his pocket, and to the promise of yet more gold when the job was completed. 

The cloaked man reached the candleholder.  Nothing was visible below it but smooth wood.  “Well?  Now what?”

Grandfather sighed.  His shoulders slumped tiredly.  “Turn the candleholder to the left and pull.”  Metal squealed as the dark figure followed the directions.  A section of the wall came with it, swinging on rusted hinges.  The dust that billowed out made it apparent that the hidden space had not been opened in quite some time. 

Ree watched, entranced, her fear forgotten for a moment, as the wall screeched open.  She waited, breathlessly, as the man reached into the darkness.  When his hand emerged, it was empty.  “You fool, do you dare trifle with me?  Your family lives only by my mercy, and yet you defy me at every turn.  I will ask you only once more, where is the book?”

“If it is not in there, I have no idea.  Many years ago I placed the cursed book into the hiding place and closed it, intending never to open it again.  If it is gone it is through no fault of mine.”  The words rang true, the voice shaking as the truly fearful are wont to do.  “Perhaps it was stolen long ago.  Perhaps another had beaten you to it.  Perhaps even now the treasure has been found and spent.” 

“Liar!  I know you possess the book.  I will have it, if I must tear the entire manor to the ground in the search.”  He seethed, a madman pushed to the edges of his endurance.  “Dirk.  Slit his throat.  He is obviously of no further value to us.”

Dirk hesitated just a second too long.  He wasn’t sure the gold was worth it.  The old man seemed harmless- what reason was there to kill him?  He didn’t mind killing when it was a fair fight, but slitting the throat of a feeble old man just didn’t sit quite right with him.  The choice was taken out of his hands.  The cloaked man snatched a knife from his own belt and buried it to the hilt in the old man’s gullet.

The death rattle covered the sound of the young girl’s horrified gasp.  Ree quivered in terror as the knife was twisted and yanked out of her beloved grandfather’s throat, blood gushing freely behind it.  The force of the retraction pulled the body forward and off of the chair.  His body slumped face down on the rug, the only visible sign of the trauma an ever-widening pool of blood beneath him.  The man with the knife calmly wiped the blade on the arm of the chair before returning it to his belt.  “Well?  Start looking,” he ordered Dirk.  “We may not have much time left before a servant comes to stoke the fire.”

The bangs of books hitting the floor, the rattle of drawers as Grandfather’s desk was rifled through, the crash of the small figurine as it struck the fireplace after being thrown with great force, all conspired to hold Ree motionless in her spot.  She could not move for fear of them seeing her.  Even as a child of eight, she was aware that to be spotted meant certain death for not only herself, but most likely for the remainder of the family as well.

posted by: ButterflyLane at October 01, 2005 00:23 | link | comments |
the tale

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