Writing, Baseball and Life

So, it's Saturday morning in the US, but it's still Friday somewhere, so here's this week's snippet.  It's a continuation from last week.  

Simon took another deep breath and let it out in a huge sigh.  Well, I guess I’m about to find out what this treasure really is.  I wonder if it means the Wise Ones are about to return to reclaim it.  Simon carefully picked up the book from the desk and opened it to the middle.  The Stone embedded there was glowing.  It was so bright now; it bathed the small room with an eerie blue light.  His little candle had been extinguished, he noticed.

 

     He found himself taking deep, slow breaths.  It was slowly relaxing his body and his mind focused on the stone.  When all thoughts other than the mystery of the stone had faded from his mind, he heard a voice calling out to him.  “Simon Levy, son of Aaron, true descendant of Solomon.  The Shard isn’t safe here anymore.  Soon, One will come to relieve you of your burden and give you the peace you have longed for.  Your Rebekah is waiting for you.”

 

     The stone suddenly stopped glowing and pitched the room into total darkness.  Then he saw himself walking up to the Western Wall.  There was a tall man with longish golden hair running his hand over the stones of the Wall.  He turned around and Simon saw a handsome young man with sea-green eyes looking confidently towards the path the led to the Plaza.

     The stone glowed again, but this time it was more subdued and it was easier for Simon’s eyes to get adjusted to.  The voice in his head spoke again.  “You have now seen the Chosen One.  Make sure he takes this stone with him.  Only he and his can now prevent Armageddon.”

 

     Slowly the blue light faded and Simon saw his candle was lit again.  Almost as if nothing had happened, but when he looked down at his lap, he saw the book open and the stone laying within it.

 

     Stunned at the implications of what he had heard and seen, Simon took a deep breath, unsure if he had really experienced what he thought he had.  The vision had been very clear and voice very real.  It had asked him, no, commanded him, to ensure the stranger was given the book.  Still, he couldn’t stop staring at the stone.

 

     He woke up the next morning, sunlight filtering in from the room’s single window on the eastern wall.  He realized he had cramps in both his legs and his hands had fallen asleep holding onto the book.  He carefully closed it and laid it on the desk.  He got up slowly and picked it back up and returned it to its customary place.  He stood there for a moment longer and thought to himself, If the voice and vision are right, soon the treasure will leave me to return to the Wise Ones.

 

     He sighed again.  He knew when the time came for him to bring the stranger to his destiny; he would miss having the book.  Simon gazed lovingly at it one more time before he shuffled to the far left bookcase and pulled a book from the third shelf.  As it came partially out, the whole bookcase swung around to reveal a passageway.  Simon smiled to himself as he walked through it and went about the business of getting ready for the new day ahead.

Here we go.  Another piece of The Shard for Holly's Friday Snippets.  This is still rough stuff, so things may change.

Simon slowly closed the book and reached up to put it back in its customary spot.  Just as he was about to slip it back into its place, the book glowed.   He stopped and frowned.  This time he knew his eyes had not played tricks on him.  The book was still awash in a deep blue light, so he took it back down again.  He went over to his desk and sat down.  Laying the book on the polished surface, he leaned back in his chair and drew a deep breath.

***********

 

     For as long as Simon could remember, the book had been in his family, in the same bookcase.  His father had moved the family to Jerusalem from Germany when he had been a very young man.  They had returned to their ancestral home in Jerusalem after three centuries of living in Europe.

 

Right after Germany’s defeat in the First World War, his father had correctly perceived the turmoil brewing there and had chosen to leave a prosperous jewelry business in Hamburg to return to Jerusalem.  At the time, Simon had thought his father was crazy.  Hitler’s rise in the 1930s and the devastation he caused were painfully embedded in Simon’s memory.  Sometimes, he still wondered just how his father had known when to leave.

 

      He remembered the stories his father had told him about the legend of the book.  Sitting oh his father’s knee, the fair-headed young Simon had begged, “Papa, tell me again about the warriors that gave us the treasure.”  His father had laughed. “Again, Simon?  I must have told you that story a thousand times now.”

 

      Simon smiled to himself as he remembered how he’d pouted and always insisted, “But, Papa, I would like to hear them again.  You said that when the time comes I will be the one protecting the treasure.  How can I properly protect it if I don’t know why it has to be protected?”  His father had laughed again.  Eyes twinkling, he told the six year old Simon the legend once again.  He had always ended the story with a stern warning.  “When the time comes Simon, the treasure will let you know.  I cannot tell you how it will do so, but you must not disregard it.  To do so will put the whole world in terrible danger.  Bad people want the treasure for themselves and we must not allow that.”

 

     Each time he heard the story, Simon had gravely promised he would not let the treasure fall into evil hands.  As he grew older, he had tended to disregard the story as just another fairy tale told to amuse a curious little boy.  He remembered he had never been allowed to touch the book or see what the treasure was until he had grown up and gotten married.  Then, one day, after the evening meal, his father had asked him to follow him into his study. 

 

Simon smiled.  He could still remember that day so clearly.  His mother and Rebekah were busy clearing the table and had gone into the kitchen.  His father lit his pipe and after taking a deep draw, he announced, “Simon, you are my only son.  You have done well for yourself.  You have a thriving business and a beautiful wife who will give you many strong sons.  It is time you were introduced to the treasure you were so curious about as a child.  You will be guarding it after I pass on and eventually having this conversation with your oldest son.”

 

     With his heart beating faster from the anticipation and excitement of finally finding out what the treasure was, Simon nodded and slowly followed his father into the study.

 

     Simon’s father walked over to the two bookshelves that lined the south wall of the little study and pulled out a leather-bound book from the top shelf of the bookcase on the right.  He brought it over to where Simon was standing and handed it to him.  

Gingerly taking the book from his father’s hand, Simon stared at it and frowned.  The red leather cover was inscribed in Hebrew but the letters were faded and the leather itself worn.  He tried to make out the ancient Hebrew.  It was a chronicle of their family history.  Puzzled, he looked up to this father.  "But, this is just a plain old book.  Yes, the Hebrew is ancient and it says it's our family chronicles, but, I'm confused Father.  It certainly isn't the treasure you always told me to guard with my life.  I mean, it has sentimental value to us, but why would anyone else want it?"  

      “That's not the real treasure, son, although the chronicles of Solomon’s descendants are quite valuable and of considerable historical significance.  Open it to the middle.  There lies the real treasure.”  His father answered. 

 

     Simon carefully opened the book to the middle where he had noticed a slight bulge, like something had been inserted into it that didn’t quite fit the space made for it.  He pried it out and studied it.  Then he turned it over to look at the other side.  He frowned and looked up.  “But, this is just a broken piece of stone, Father.  I can make out a few letters that were carved on it, but it doesn’t even form a complete word.  How can this be the treasure?”

 

     “Fool!”  His father exclaimed angrily.  “Simon, you have a lot to learn yet.  Sometimes, the greatest treasure is what seems most ordinary.  Maybe I was wrong.  Maybe it wasn’t the time to reveal this to you yet.”

 

     “Forgive me father, I’m sorry.  I guess I was expecting something like a gold amulet or sparkling diamonds.  I believe you and I do trust you.  If you say that we have to guard this stone with our lives, then I will not question your wisdom.  I will do everything in my power to keep it safe.”  Simon sobbed.

 

     “You don’t have to worry about protecting it just yet, but when my time comes, it will pass to you.  If the time for its return to the Wise Ones comes during your lifetime, the Stone will guide you.  That’s all I know.  I cannot tell you how that will come to pass.”

**********

Simon Levy turned the little cardboard sign in the window to “CLOSED”.  After carefully locking the door to his bookstore, he took the cash out of the register to the small back room that was his private library and refuge—a room purposely devoid of electricity, it was the last remnant of the abode his ancestors had passed down through the generations.

 

Simon lit a small candle before he flipped the light off in the main part of the bookstore and turned to take one last look around, pale grey eyes slowly adjusting to the sudden dimness of the room.  He sighed gently as he walked into the library.  Simon had been following the same routine for a very long time now.  It was eons ago that he had been young.

 

     He locked and bolted the library door and stood the candle in its holder on the desk.  He sat down as he counted the money.   He tapped the stack edgewise against the table until the bills fell into order against his fingers.  Satisfied with the day’s take, he walked to the wall safe and locked up the cash.  As he turned away, his gaze fell on the three bookcases lining the south wall of the little room.  He thought he had seen something; a bluish light emanating from the top shelf.

 

     Curious, he went over to the bookcase on the right and pulled down an old and ragged leather-bound tome.  This was most likely to be the cause of the glowing light, if indeed his old eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.  He slowly opened it to the slight bulge in the middle of the book and stared at it.  It was an irregular shaped stone, a fragment or shard broken from a stone tablet.  Nothing happened.  Neither it nor the book glowed.

 

     After squinting at it intently for quite some time, Simon shook his head and sighed.  Must be my old eyes and mind.  Maybe I’m wishing too hard.  I have lived a long time with this burden and how I do wish to pass it on. 

 

     Simon was the last of his line and unless those he called the Wise Ones returned, he would continue to stand guard over that shard of stone for eternity.  He sighed again.  “Oh how I wish my dearest Rebekah had been able to give me a son before she was taken from me.  I could then have passed this on to him and his sons.”

First post from a LJ newbie.  I have no clue how to format this thingie...so bear with me while I learn.