Booked by Juliet Boyd

posted 18 Apr 2016, 12:37 by Juliet Boyd   [ updated 20 Apr 2016, 10:37 ]
Tara drew the short straw. The blow-up mattress in Diane and Greg’s library wouldn’t have been so bad if there’d been a window in the room, or the bookcases that covered every inch of the walls had been made of something other than jet-black, laminated wood. It was claustrophobic. Oppressive. Definitely not restful. She wasn’t going to be able to sleep. In a room full of books, she decided to read.

She settled on a classic and pulled it out. She did a double take. Behind was another row of books. A secret shelf. Intrigued, she reached in and let her fingers brush over the hidden tomes. Except, the row wasn’t complete, which was odd. The space felt cold, as if ... a breeze? She wondered if they’d blocked a window with a bookcase.
She started to pull out more of the books. There was no window.

Faced with a panel of lights and buttons, she leaned forward, placing her head into the gap. Too slow to react to the violent pull, her scream was caught and redefined with ease. Her body followed suit.


Greg tidied the books strewn across the floor. Everyone had left. The two of them had even done the washing up – a rare event this early the day after one of their dinner parties. The ones to which they invited people they met on the street. A format designed to encourage lively conversation between disparate minds, amongst other things.

The smell of freshly-printed words wafted toward him. He turned. Diane was leaning against the doorframe. “How is it?” he asked.

“Some people have boring lives, even when they’re fictionalised.”

He smiled. “Never mind, luv. Better luck next time?”

“We should’ve chosen the guy wearing the tee with the bats.”

He didn’t argue. She was probably right. But there would always be another opportunity to find the perfect story.


Inspiration from this post by @paperbacksandpugs on Instagram.