Saturday, 14 September 2019


by John Xero

Oscar walks the high library walls, reassured by the strike of his armoured feet on strong stone. Forty feet below, the undulating treetops shift like the seas of his homeland and his heart aches.

A susurration breaks his reminiscence: the whisper of pages in the wind – wing beats. He looks up.

Her hide is leather-bound, gold-edged. Her hundred tails are ribbons of rainbow silk. Her eyes reflect his inner self and her voice is a thousand voices.

“Give/return/surrender me/I/my eggs/children/books.”

Oscar braces himself and raises his flickering torch, meagre fire against the mighty bookwyrm.

Author bio: All stories are eggs that hatch in your soft wet brain space; the strongest, the fittest, dig deep and live there a while. John Xero lays a lot of little eggs, but one day... one day, he dreams of bigger things.

The nest:
The tweets: @xeroverse

Bookwyrm is part of 101 Fiction issue 24.

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