By Its Cover

“…and he left without a trace,” the end of the last sentence of a book I had been reading while sitting by my window during a Sunday’s sunset.
I placed the book away in a chest beneath my bed and once again I had felt the same unsatisfied feeling that ran through my body after each book I have read.
It was as though nothing seemed to fully captivate me.
But that was perhaps my selfish and unrealistic need for a story that would completely steal me away from this world.
Nevertheless, selfish, unrealistic, I was still determined to find that one story that I would remember forever and could tell to others without the pages turning before my eyes.

High up in the palace I looked down to the fields just beyond the giant willow tree.
I saw the library I had always found my stories in and decided that tonight seems like a beautiful night to go book hunting.
I threw on my hooded cloak and dashed out the palace and across the field.

Upon entering the library the sky was still a lavender-pink, signifying to me that it wasn’t too late.
Looking around I was reminded how marvelously constructed this library is and thought to myself that it’s no wonder I always manage to come back.
The aisles of bookshelves are made of polished maple wood and along the sides of each shelf are decorative carvings of doves, maple leaves, roses, and butterflies.
In the center of the library there is an enormous fire place surrounded by a marble floor with a color blend of greens, tans, and reds.
The floors are lined by what some say are the most comfortable couches in the world.
Above the library is a ceiling made of glass allowing the Sun’s warming rays in the day and the Moon’s soothing glow in the evening to brighten the pages of the books you choose.

Each year I have read countless stories in this library.
Some were of experiences in school.
Some were of the night life in the sleepless cities, while others were about the everyday tricks shaped by human beings.
But even though there were an ample amount of stories, I still haven’t found a favorite, chiefly because as much as they were different, they were still very much alike.

This evening I kept that in mind and I decided to be quite meticulous in choosing the next book to read.
With my arms crossed I slowly walked through the aisles of books and scanned through each title and cover that I felt would appear to be unique.
After a while, and as I passed book after book, I was beginning to get quite frustrated.
Everything seemed to firmly be the same.
Losing hope I decided to walk even slower and be even more thorough while looking for the right book.

I turned in the aisle of stories that were in the genre of mystery.
As I entered this aisle I looked up to the sky and saw that a cloud was dimming the moon’s glow prompting me to be extra careful.
Taking but just two steps into the aisle I heard a crunching sound coming from beneath my shoe.
Looking down I saw I had stepped on a dead flower.
Unfortunately, I stepped on the head of the flower, preventing me from being able to tell what kind it was.
It was so dried out that it simply just shattered.
I bent down, picked up the stem, and swept the shattered flower into the cup of my hand.
By this time it was a bit dark since the cloud was completely covering the moon’s glow.

As I began to stand up from cleaning up the flower the cloud began to move away and I spotted a book on the bottom shelf that was directly in front of where I picked up the stem.
I noticed there weren’t any words written on the rim of the book.
It seemed to be the only one in the whole library without writing on the rim.
Curious, I pulled the book out and the cover too had nothing on it.
I stood up and before opening it I turned the book around, sideways, and even upside down looking for some sort of inscription.
But there was nothing.

Then a visitor passed by and said, “Hello is something wrong?”
It was clear that my confusion was easily read from my facial expression and I responded, “Yes there isn’t a title or anything on this book.”
I looked up at the visitor who smiled and said, “Try bringing it into the moon’s glow.”
As he passed by, I looked down at the book and asked, “Why do you think…”
But I was cut short because as I looked up to finish my question the visitor had gone.

I took the book and walked towards the fire place, jumped onto an empty couch, and waited for the mischievous cloud to move out the moon’s glow.
Still with the book closed I placed it on my stomach and waited.

As I waited I thought of the visitor’s face, especially his eyes.
I remembered their shape prevented me from being able to figure out where he might be from.
But what stood with me the most, was his smile.
It was a smile that even just thinking about it made me smile.

Then finally, the cloud began to float away.
I held the book out in front of me and as the moon’s glow reflected off the cover a sketch of someone began to appear.
I sat up in bewilderment and I was anxious to see the completed sketch.
As the cloud was inches way from being out of the moon’s way all that was left were the eyes of the person on the cover.
Already recognizing the smile on the cover, I took a deep breath.
And as the moon’s glow was free of the blocking cloud, it revealed the eyes of the person on the cover.
Thinking out loud I said, “I can’t believe it. It can’t be. This sketch is of…”
And before I could finish the thought, the visitor from the aisle put his hand over the cover and with a flare of sarcasm in his voice, accompanied by his heart warming smile he said, “Are you ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”