The Story of a Boy: Part 1

Here is the first part of "The Diary of Oliver Lee". It begins with a young boy and a unique book store.

No one walked in or out of the Antique Books Store for months. The young boy of ten years, three months, and thirteen days knew this for certain. Because besides eating, sleeping, and breathing he did little else other than watch the tarnished door of the store for weeks in hopes of seeing any sign of movement inside its walls.
Contrary to the belief of other children his age, he did not sit outside the Antique Books Store’s door for days on end, eating the lint in his pocket and drinking rain water. However, when he did look at the store as he passed it on afternoon bike rides to the city library he was surprised to see the "Come on In" or "Sorry We’re Closed" sign turned to its correct invitation or apology.

Since the last day of school it seemed as if the used book store was the one object that occupied his thoughts. The problem with his mindless obsession of a store he never noticed before that year, was he had yet to go in. There was nothing holding him back from entering, and he was not afraid, but there seemed to be something unexplainable about the store that made it inaccessible to him. Sometimes he stared for hours through the glass of the store without seeing a cover move or a page flutter. However, each new day he looked through the Antique Books Store’s windows, the sea of words shifted in wave movement.

Monday through Wednesday they were be placed around the store on tables, counters, oddly placed on the floor, and in-between shelves. Thursday through Friday they would be stacked around the perimeter, making the ability to see through the dingy glass nearly impossible before settling into perfection on Saturday and returning to madness on Sunday to continue the cycle over again.

Family members were of no help when it came to answering questions about the store. His mother claimed she knew nothing about the shop, or that it even existed. His grandparents time traveled back to when they were children, remembering when they first had seen it as a child, but could not remember seeing it open in many years. The only individual that gave any nuance of interest about what went on behind those mysterious closed doors was his father who had the same love of books as his son. This passion for literature made the young boy wonder why he cleaned up after the students in the school rather than teach them.

“I don’t know who owns the store, son. I’m surprised it’s even still around. I remember seeing it as a boy but never going in. I was older than you, but after living for this long all the years start to blend together, like stories you heard but can’t remember all the details to, or dreams that have taken the place of memories. You’ll understand when you’re older, but I do remember never going in. I always wanted to, but never got around to it. Life has a way of getting hectic. Eventually, I forgot about the whole thing, or that the store even existed for that matter. Until you mentioned it I had completely forgotten. I can’t believe it’s still around. You should go in, just to see what it’s like and let me know what I missed.”

“Can you go in with me? I’m sure they have some cool older books you don’t have,” the young boy asked his father pleadingly. He was hoping the accompaniment of his father would break whatever spell the shop had over him from entering.

“I would love to son, but I have too much work to do. I have to get the school back in shape before you kids come back in a few weeks. The summer’s almost over you know.”

“I know,” the young boy said disappointingly.

“Listen, why don’t you go into the bookstore tomorrow, have a look around, then this weekend we can go back and buy a few after you’ve scoped them out. How does that sound?”

This was not what the boy wanted to hear, but accepting the offer as better than nothing he agreed. Realizing momentarily of the task that still lay in front of him the boy went to his room to get some rest, and build his courage for the day ahead. As he walked up the stairs, excited to spend some time with his father, the young boy couldn’t help wondering why no one seemed to recognize that the out of date shop even existed, except him.

(Story continues in the next blog)