The most precious of the collection Morena did not store with the rest of the books.  It was far away. Far. If anyone has the hint of an idea where, the uproar would be instantaneous and deafening. At the least.  Life-threatening at worst.

Morena leaned hard against her bedroom door, hoping the echoing finality of the click was far more annoying than a full-fledged slam would be.  A slam would indicate a loss of control, a vulnerability.  The click spoke of control and a skin too thick to be bothered with her mother’s barbs.

Image by dimitri_c

Thinking of her precious volumes made her heart quicken and put her on the edge of recklessness.  She wanted to haul them out of the organized clutter that protected them, right now. Chances that either of her parents would knock at her door, much less barge in, were slim to none.  Still, if the finality of the door click hit the intended target, who knew what might happen next? Morena refused the risk, as slight as it was.  Any risk was risk too much when it came to her precious books.

Again the most precious came into view of her mind’s eye.


Prompt from Take Ten for Writers by Bonnie Neubauer.  I believe it was prompt #86 which gave the opening line: “The most precious of the…” and instructions to write for 10 minutes.  

Confession: I almost fell asleep twice….

To be continued.


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