Books: One - The Writer

Golden leafs falling from the sky.

Blood path leading my way.

I was going to home in that day. Was Autumn, the leafs are falling all the time. A gold carpet make my way. 

The sky it was clear, nothing abnormal. 

An old man is painting his house. Fullher I think.

"- Do you need some help?"

"- Hum.." He is on the top of a ladder. "- Can you give that basket?"

"- Yes, of course. Wich one? This?"

"- No, no that, the blue one."

"- Ok." I give him the basket with ink and spend all the morning helping him.

It was a funny morning, we paint the whole house in deep-blue, the windows, in sky-black.

"- It's nice." I said. "- But, weird."

"- It was a good work after all. You are a good painter, why don't try this way?"

"- No, thanx."

"- Tea?" He asked me when we enter in the house.

"- Of course." I wait in the living room.

He came with the tea. He don't asked how I want my, but it's ok.

"- You gave a lot of books here." The living room was filled with books. A big table in the corner have some books opened.

"- Ha. I love to read. Some of the books I write by myself."

"- That sounds nice." Books of everything, Maths, Languages, from Egypt to Japan. Some that I don't understand, all books of respect.

"- I like to write. But I never finish something that I start."

"- You should. Maybe you sell and earn some money."

"- Ha, impossible. We are in England. And you know that I'm not from here. I can talk in English without problem, but write it's completely different."

"- You ahead try it? Maybe you can write a good book, a big tale. What you normally write about?"

"- Nothing important, it's always fantasy. Not like..

    .. Oh shit."

The bigger book of the table, a deep-blue with sky-black letters.

"- Blue Dragon: The Tale of an Loyal Evil Dragon that Become a Hero." That was the subject of the book.

"- This was my first book."

"- Can I take a look?"

"- Yes." He answer, then whisper: "- You should take a close look."