Daily Flash Fiction Challenge

The interior designer filled the bookcase in the model home’s living room with secondhand books purchased at Salvation Army for a song. She checked out each one before placing it on a shelf, searching for First Editions. Through the years, she had found some valuable books that way.

“Margaret, you about done?” asked the project manager from the foyer. “Gotta lock up.”

“Almost finished, Ed.”

“I’d like to get home sometime this century.”

“Leave the key. I’ll hide it under the welcome mat at the office door. I’ve done it before.”

Ed fiddled with the key.

“I’ll take full responsibility,” she said.

He handed it over. “Okay, I guess.”

Margaret locked the front door after him, the model homes were a little spooky after dark.

She went back to her task. An old leather-bound tome tumbled from her hands, landing face-up on the carpet. She picked it up.

Ouch!

Instinctively, she dropped the book. Margaret observed the blister that was already forming on her hand.

What in the world?

Dropping it seemed to have activated some heat-producing phenomenon. The book was aptly named Fire and Brimstone. She bent down and opened it with the tip of her pen. The date 1643 jumped out at her.

Oh, my word! This must be worth a fortune.

The book wasn’t burning, but the carpeting under it was smoldering; greenish smoke billowed. Margaret kicked the book to the slate floor in the foyer.

She couldn’t pick it up and she couldn’t leave it. The slate began to bubble, and a large crevasse formed. The strange book floated above it; Margaret was transfixed.

The model home burned to the ground; the interior designer’s body was not inside. Ed found the key under the mat. Margaret Everhart was never heard from again.