Flash Fiction 5-15-20 W/C 297
Books in the fire. Burning. It reminded Branson of a book he read long ago.. What was the title?
“Nancy? That book we read in school. It talked about books burning. Do you remember?”
Nancy’s glasses reflected the fire. She stood like a statue, mesmerized by the flames.
“Nancy. Hey. The book. Do you remember that book?” Branson grabbed her arm.
Nancy shook her head. “What? Book? No I don’t remember any book about burning books.” She resumed her fire-watching.
The fire died down to embers. Soon the only light would be the full moon.
A circle of people stood around the dying fire. Soon they began nonsensical chants.
Branson felt a chill. He felt a need to return home and guard his books. What if this group decided to come his way? What if there was a decree that all books were to be burned? What if…… Too many what ifs.
He turned to leave. Nancy and another man grabbed his arms.
“Where are you going Branson?” Nancy questioned. Behind her glasses her eyes were magnified and the pupils dilated.
The man tightened his grip on Branson’s arm. “We haven’t had the pleasure of getting to know you. Branson is it? Welcome, Branson. Welcome to our little group.” He had a big bright smile.
“Well, you see, I have to, you know, that’s kind, but now, …” I stammered and tried to get away. Their grips got tighter.
“Now come on over here, Branson. My name is Jerry. Meet the rest of our little gang. We’ll all have us a little chat.”
I was dragged over to the fire. It was still hot.
“You kind of wandered into our group unannounced. Our question to you. How badly do you want those books in the fire there?”