Daily Flash Fiction Challenge

Meditations of a neighbour

The book was bought in 1917. The second page was simply inscribed "Hilda 1917 December" and at the bottom was "Phyl"

It was a small book just larger than my palm and it had a soft dark green leather cover which was badly stained over the years and tatty on the edges.

I didn't know what to make of it. Was it to be treated like some alternative bible since the man who wrote it was born 121 years after the birth of Christ and it was full of musings and since the author was a powerful man, I didn't know if what he said would still be relevant now.

I've tried reading it a couple of times but there's something holding me back. It's as if this connection with a real man from nearly one thousand eight hundred years ago could really be able to help me but there is invisible force around the book which puts me off.

It's an intrusion into Hilda and Phyl's lives. I always assumed Phyl was a man but in reflection it's probably Phyllis. A strange book from one woman to another.

One day I'll read it. It's supposed to be one of the finest examples of Stoic philosophy but for the time being, my meagre self is overawed by the words of a great Emperor.

Perhaps I should read it and learn about conquering nations and people.

At the moment there's only two nations, well, neighbours really, that need to be conquered.
The one behind with the yappy little dog, and the one next door with the gossiping old lady spreading rumours and sneaking around.

I should cast off the fear of years gone by and learn from someone great. I just need that Roman Legion and I'm ready for the neighbours.