Through the sunlight I entered the cool dank store. "Renaissance Books." They had told me. "You'll find what your looking for their." I scanned the place. No one was about. Stepping over piles of old books and magazines I made my way through a labyrinth of twelve foot high shelves that only stretched three quarters of the way to the ceiling. A towering wall of books with handwritten tags came up against me. Bodybuilding it said. Arnold Schwarzenegger's eyes peered back from the shelf, from half empty boxes on the floor. The old govenator in his youthful first life. A dark mans face appeared behind me "What are you looking for?" He stammered in only the way a half hermit used bookstore owner could. I don't know I thought, but Ill find it here. "Nothing." I said hoping he wouldn't start small talking me. "Thanks though." "Their are four more floors!" he croaked "look around." He Quickly disappeared into a fog of paper and words. I turned back to the sagging old shelves and my eyes finally adjusted to the darkness of the place. "Sports." I thought out loud, games must be nearby. My gaze went off to the left and my feet followed almost tripping over an old grey step stool straight out of the sixties. I caught my balance on Field Hockey and Golf. "You'll find what your looking for." they had promised. Only if I make it out alive. Four shelves caught my eyes as I stood up. Above, out of arms length, they hovered overhead as if the rest of the books had melted away. Chess it read on a small piece of taped handwritten paper. My mind raced. I should have known. It had been haunting me for weeks. Blitz chess. The kind you can only find in crowded chat rooms and dim lit smoke filled coffee houses. I frantically searched through the titles with my fingers and eyes. Blitz Theory, it stuck out, practically glowing among the other paperbacks. Found it, I thought. This has to be it. With one foot on the rickety old step stool I reached high and got hold of it. I hopped down gripping it tight against my chest and turned to the door. Their he stood, the man from before, with an unmistakable look in his eye. He knew all along. That's when I recognized him.
3 comments:
that's not a blog post, that right there is literature...
Yobba, yobba, we accept you, we accept you, one of us!
The chess books are more accessible at our airport branch (inside General Mitchell Field; the world's first used book store in an airport). We have been gratified by how well chess sells out there.
Orange mike, thanks for the comment. Interesting that you stumbled onto this page. Are you the one who sold me Blitz Theory at Renaissance downtown?
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