You’ve found her in the basement of long closed Bexley Books after spending an hour or so of exploring the store that used to be a funeral home.
She is sitting at a time worn wooden table, arms crossed, dusty pile of books stacked in a neat pile in front of her. There is almost no light in the dark room but there are a lot of shadows and they are creeping around the woman and the table like a dog begging it’s human for a treat.
You could take a seat at this table and ask this woman what she is doing here.
But look at her and ask yourself, would that be okay? Is she safe?
Her face is pleasant, the corners of her mouth are turned up just a little, just enough to make it look like she is smiling. Her dark hair is pulled back in a pony tail. Her nails are not polished but they are neatly trimmed. She is wearing a lavender sweatshirt decorated all over with little silver hearts.
So why not, she looks harmless enough, except for the fact that she is sitting in the dark with a pile of dusty books about in front of her.
Oh. I guess I forgot to mention that.
Yes, the books are anatomy books and the one on the bottom of the stack is about cake decorating. That spine on that book is pink.
So let’s take a seat and ask …
” Oh. I’m waiting for a delivery. Yeah. Just sitting here passing the time and catching up on some reading. I know from the looks of it, this place would probably send Martha Stewart into one of those seizures that they would have thought were demonic possession back during the Middle Ages or in parts of rural America but really, I love to drop by when I can .”
” Oh go on, pull up a chair and sit down, so you must be familiar with the neighborhood. No? Well, this place used to be a little bookstore and the books they sold here were all about death. That’s right. Death.They had books about embalming and head hunting and mummies and local unsolved murders.”
” Scoot that chair back up and don’t look at me like that.”
” The shop shut down a few years ago, but the books were left behind. They were just sitting on the shelves. Anybody could have walked in and taken them, I mean they were just defenseless books and how could they stop from being taken.”
” But some of the books were stolen and wouldn’t you know it with a day of that all of these strange murders started to pop up around town. And you look hip, so I guess I don’t need to go into how some of those murders followed the plot lines of those weird books. Yep. You know who really got miffed about that? The funeral directors. When bodies start to turn up embalmed and prepared for burial in perfect text book fashion they were not a happy bunch.”
“ No. Miss Bexley isn’t around anymore, but if you go to the next room you’ll find shelves still stocked as if she were. These books know how to take care of themselves. “
“No I’m not worried about the books or being here. I placed an order- a special order and being that I was a friend, Miss Bexley never did mind me taking those deliveries here. How did I become friends with Miss Bexley you ask?”
” Actually. One of these books was based on my life. Oh no. Not these books. It’s upstairs at the checkout counter. It was one of her personal favorites.”
“What is my book about?”
” Cannibalism. The one you have tucked away in your jacket pocket. And don’t bother. Sit down. The door is locked. All of them are. For now.”