·101 words·1 min
Flash Fiction Deadlines For Writers
“Do you have it?”
In response, the assistant placed a briefcase on the desk. Opening it, the old man removed a thick dark tome. Pushing the briefcase aside, he opened the book, caressing it with long gnarled fingers.
“Are those pages …… leather?”
The old man laughed, a moist guttural chortle, and said, “Yes, I suppose so. In a manner of speaking.”
Finding the section he was looking for, he motioned to be wheeled over to the fireplace. As he read from the book, the flames swelled, and a deep rumble of a voice rattled the windows of the small cabin.