I will try and maintain a regular schedule sharing work as I am inspired to write! Thanks to Ray and other greats like him for my gift I will do my best to live up to it as best as I can!

Sincerely,
The Writer!

The ‘Book’ Keeper!

Old Mother Hubbard,
She went to the cupboard
To fetch her poor dog a bone:
But when she got there
Her cupboard was bare,
So she went back to her room all alone
Morning, Noon and Night;
Day after Day
She lives the same way
Never getting the point
It’s right there beside her
The dust that covers what she loves best
Of all the things she collects;
Waiting for the story to unfold
She is none other than The ‘Book’ Keeper,
Old Woman who chain smokes and lives in that room
She watches T.V. and too many movies on her flat screen, loving her bookshelf: Alone.
In the room next door the clock against the wall is ticking as the reader lives in silence divorcing technology awhile ago. The reader got so tired of the noises and distractions of the contraptions all around; that came a day she turned away to read in harmony instead of distress from the surrounding mess, wanting only for one thing as the days passed by, the common attraction of what was the same between the 2 who never talked.
The reader longed for a library of everything; the other cherished alone! The bookshelf sat untouched, what the reader wished she could clean, a beautiful collection of stuff the reader would surely read; but she doesn’t dare try to share what she admires most in the room next door, what the readers world lacks alone! She doesn’t understand the mess that surrounds her as she moves around the house, quickly getting things done with a smoke from her mouth, causing the stir to roam away as the ash falls on the edge of the plate understanding she needs to hurry; or she will be late for what’s coming on at 8. Unaware of the debris, all that collects on the walls in the vents, each room neglected as she watches the continued events; time well spent!

The reader sits there aware of all that’s going on, not knowing what to do every time ‘she’ goes somewhere; divorcing the spell of what’s going on when she roams all alone. What can be done to undue what’s been already shown of the future to unfold; for the mounting of the mess that her smoking clears away? The reader shuts her door to a world that will soon be no more and finds her way back to her chair; divorcing what’s on the page of what sits in front of her to read. She sighs with relief as she falls into the fantasy of the world in words on the pages laid out in rows as she begins, where the adventure left her divorcing Ray Bradbury’s World!

As for old Mother Hubbard she was eventually discovered, dead in the tub from the bugs that collected and consumed her in every inhale as her skin turned pale for what she couldn’t exhale, as they swarmed together around her in the room, coming through the vent on the ceiling for never taking the time to go from room to room and clean what was the cause of her hell. For then she could care and enjoy what was there when she sat down divorcing what was in her room; all those beautiful binded books lined against the wall.
If the old Woman had done that she might have found time to know the pleasure of her treasury instead of what dispelled; the mess that brought her to death forever, for never taking the time to enjoy what she loved; where she sat in her misery, year after year in the room that was her own, before that reader read that last Ray Bradbury Spread. Where the bookshelf now stands alone in perfect condition free of the germs as a monument in time divorcing that one ‘Readers’ mind!



Part 2...

The ‘Book’ Keeper gave the reader a clock. The reader cherished the clock; in return she gave the ‘book’ keeper a dimmer lamp, and kept to herself the obvious thought; divorcing a dimmer mind, smiling about the future and all that reading time; for the ‘book’ keeper died without a thought in mind! Except of course what it was she was choking on in that last moment of time. Bugs!

The house would be clean now, and the books will be read; “finally” they thought to themselves, “we’ll get pulled from the shelf and pleasure will be found through the pages of the words it takes for the story between them to unfold. That of the ‘book’ keepers pasts’ and the readers ahead, one they look forward to being able to tell all there is to know, divorcing the spell and what all the books give that is good as long as the risks of keeping the book shelf and all that’s on them is properly understood!

As long as the books ‘live’ in that dwelling, they must be read or another one who comes along to live in that room who’d rather ignore what’s there then consume all that they bare is faced with an element of risk, a threat that looms, that a book keeper coming across their path will share the same fate as that of the ‘book’ keeper that just past, for death will consume them in the end too if there ever just left their to be ignored and simply stored again.

Part 3...

Now into the room came the reader, for having no idea what to read at all. Having read all that she’d been given she decided to wander through the house. Loud sounds could be heard but no picture could be seen once she entered the living room, with chaos strewn across the room.

The mess she doesn’t dare move around while she’s living there; so she goes about her business forging for sustenance, before heading back to her room. The ‘book’ keeper never comes to understand her fortune and what the reader would do to only be so lucky to have a library collection like that which stood row upon row of the shelves. Upon returning to the 2nd floor after the TV downstairs was finally shut off, the reader’s hands full, food upon a tray, she saw a pile of dishes on the floor, cigarette butts and their box deliberated on the dish a part of the ‘book’ keepers wish, something the reader could not understand as she opened her room door shaking her head at what she could not stand to view anymore.

After a time, her stomach was full, and her hands well washed she thought there must be something to read keeping time with the ticking clock. The gift that was given in that 3 minute window, when the ‘book’ keeper was able to be spoken too divorcing the spell of all that goes on in the house and he room where it is she’s spent many years: content to dwell. The reader could not compare what to dwell like that would be like? So many books to read and so many things one could do! That the reader could only think of the difference during the minutes that past as she got things done listening to the ticking of a clock to remind her of the time and how precious it is, for not wasting away those minutes.

So after some minutes stirring about she finally found a story to read, and so once again during the time she has off between shifts of work, she snuggled into bed under the covers, turned on the lamp sitting next to her bed on the stand; opened the cover and a few pages in and started to read there, what was in front of her on the pages of this book, so old, glorious and well titled; happy again to be taken some place new away from the distress of the surrounding in the house around her.

The ‘book’ keepers’ past haunting the path of all those who dwell in the shell of the place known as house, but this alone it clearly is not, certain it’s more but the only way to come to understand all the goings on is to keep turning the pages that tell the ages and history of the mystery; what would be one no more only once it’s all told.

The reader alone, awaits the end of this books tale how exciting she thought as she killed a lone little flying bug that made the mistake of flying away from the ‘book’ keepers plate, covered in left over sauce from the steak bones growing old on the counter where it stood. A different mess from the one in the hall, in one grasp as the reader read, that bug was now dead as the reader shook ‘her’ head and said, “How many times have I said No bugs allowed in ‘my’ room!”

Part 4...

It was a time before the event of what took place in the washroom, where the ‘book’ keeper sat soaking in her disarray. A bowl, (or large dish) as it were with filthy things in it, as time served; a disturbing view for all to see, it sat on the table just outside the entrance of the kitchen door where the reader had just taken the time to do what had to be done. Taking time to clean; leaving a glow after she mopped and a fresh scent was in the air throughout this shared dwelling for all those living there. Just trying to do something right, leaving a kind note with a few suggestions for what was left that needed to be done, before returning to her bedroom spread; but this lead to no success as she (the reader) went forward not knowing what to do about the mess that was left only a day later as a reply to the good state of mind she was trying to share. “I need to move” the reader said, but when you’re tired of roaming as much as she has, and where you go never stops coming with turmoil; you have to stop and ask yourself, “Is it my imagination or is there something I need to do? So I can have a library too! I’d like to un-pack and have a home a place throughout which I can fully roam.”
This was certain to be a long wait, as she cracked open the window letting in the fresh breeze, before settling in to read once more. Nothing to be said for the Sunday passing in her wake; at least the summer has left for a time, divorcing the un-seen plague that grows hideously covered amongst the three who share this home. All the prey that come thru the doors, the innocent visitors, is done at ones’ own risk the germs at times unseen to the naked eye collecting on them as they walk around mystified, for there is only so much their eyes allow them to see. There is only so much one can do, when all the belongings are in the others care, there is therein-by only so much care the reader can do! What a scare these nightmares, and white flashings coming from within when her eyes are closed and she seeks rest and refuge from her loosed mind, too much in her head for all the words that have been read. How can the reader escape, all that awaits from the voice of the ‘book’ keepers mind when they sleep at the same time; sleep that comes to visit the reader who only knows to wake from that state; for she is afraid of nothing, the ‘book’ keepers voice cannot make her scream. Her bugs are a disturbing view (for others yes they keep people away) but even they have made friends with the reader too. The reader she is simply friendly and does her utmost to be kind; for all that others would fear if only they had half of what she’s read in their heads. It must be this rich imagination that keeps her good spirits up, looking forward to the dispensation of yet another story’s spell. And why she felt it so necessary to rent this room; or was it the spell of this story unfolding that raked her in?’ cleaning enough so she’d move in. Giving her the room with the carpet; a weakness of the reader, she likes color and warmth beneath her feet when she walks about.

But I guess time will only tell what she was sent to witness or take part in. The ‘book’ keepers spell! Yes how she came to be in this room, the years to unfold, a story that to tell never grows old; a really good Ray Bradbury dish: The readers wish?

More to come!

Part 5...

Now into the room with a broom the reader went, she swept and swept and swept every nook and cranny every piece of dirt and crumb onto the dust pan; which heaped into a pile told a story about the 'book' keepers style. What the 'book' keeper ate landed on more things then just her plate. Day after Day, she ate and ate. And the room with the books filled with the state. Year after year she just didn't care about the prize winning shelf and all the unread pages of the books neatly placed row upon row, in a room so rich with material. If only the 'book' keeper had taken the time to subdue her busy mind with all there was in those books to find.
The reader carefully dusted as she stood there with a smile which one should she help herself to first? She counted across the row with her finger as she went; 1, 2,3,4,5 etc.... Until something caught her eye and with a sigh of gratification she pulled this glorious book from it's stationary order, it was obviously clear that it had been many a year since any one had flipped through it's pages. Moments later it was settled this would be the first the reader would let spill into her mind; all the adventure that layed on the pages, in words, sentences and paragraphs, the reader put the book aside and at her stride finished what she went in that room to do.
But you could still feel the thickness and the gloom, the 'book' keepers energy in the room. A cloudiness that ran over the joy of all the books that sat in place for it would now only be a matter of time before they are removed from their places and someone is under the spell of the tales being told, stories that one can never outgrow. Without a doubt if the 'book' keeper were standing in the room she would scream and shout... “Get out, Get out, don't move a thing, this is my room you're in, doesn't anyone understand don't touch a thing at all!” The books are ALL hers, every page, every single word. The reader divorced the risk of the curse that clearly loomed.
“If I'm good to them, then I don't foresee how there could be a problem? F or the 'book' keeper was the one who left them ignored.” When the cleaning was done, the reader grabbed the 'ONE' and left the room, then gently turned and shut the 'book' keepers door & took one step at a time toward her own excited over what she was about to find; all the richness that would soon saturate her mind!

But as has already been said, with the 'book' keeper now being dead, one must be aware of the haunting that is there every book that's took there's a risk that the reader may never return to the same place in mind from the different world's revealed in every book that's read! On the one hand they must be read or the curse of the books will infiltrate the lives that ignore what they store, however which one is read and the affect it has on the readers who consume all that it bares, has everything to do with the 'book' keepers story behind every one; caution is to be had for the mad, happy, and sad when uncovering what's under those soft and hard covers, so readers beware understanding the caution that needs to be in place as you dare to discover the adventures the RIGHT minds are born to find.

Part 6...
A Lesson in time!

So now about the 'book' keeper it's a lesson in time. Starting at the very beginning; a teenager in school, still full of plans of a future that awaits. She found herself collecting things she said she'd one day find the time to read. Always excited each new book she found, a title that suited the work well. “But not today.” She'd say, “Some other day.” as she'd put each one away. And so her collection grew as she went on to graduate, pursuing what she wanted to do in life.
The collection stayed with her as she grew older even after falling in love a time or 2, relationships sadly that always fell through. But still as time passed on, she never stopped: her books were always just a passing thought, as she moved from place to place until finding the house with the room that kept them; through the extinguishing of her life a time in this tale already said. Who knew the doom of the day she took the room, that would assume for many years the shelf life that still deliberates the fates of those who dare embark on the stories in the work that awaits the readers who survive them?

As one already knows each book as the 'book' keeper found them has a story around it to tell. Whether it is the blue book, or the green book, or the white book, each has a history in the book keepers life about how it was found, and it just so happened to be that the reader didn't choose just any book; she chose the 'BIG' book in the middle of the one shelf she fingered through, when in the 'book' keepers room. And the circumstances in the finding of 'THIS' book is definitely one to tell... so pull up a chair if you dare: don't go anywhere, and be prepared to be scared!