It's Still Life

Beyond an Intersection Named After an English King and a Saint
Six Sentence Story: Day 8 Part 5

Bœuf Bourguignon Always Has Mushrooms

“Which of you ordered two bœuf bourguignons,” asks the waitress who shifts her weight to her right hip—muscle memory, thanks to several children having perched there over the years.

We’ve arrived early at The Old Bookbinder’s Ale House; Nick wants a perfect table, our backs to the wall (no surprises, no ambushes), a clear view of the room, entrance, exits—neither of us trusts Ozymandias, and right on time he arrives, dragging a suitcase behind him— he drops into a chair; “The book?” I ask, nodding at it—he glares and mutters, “The book. I can’t touch the cursed thing without it going…” (his fingers mimicking an explosion).

Nick, feigning disinterest, prongs an offending mushroom in his bœuf bourguignons and extends it my way, a silent plea of culinary distaste and hopeful generosity as Ozymandias leans in toward us, “To business then,” he rasps, “this knowledge is ancient, it is Druidical, I am a Druid—what claim have you to this book?” he growls like there’s a storm caught in his throat.

I don’t answer—I just stare, it’s a look my mother swore could stir primordial fear—I take the book, open it, and turn it toward him, black ink bleeding as though a scalpel had cut slow and deep… (he draws his head back, just slightly), “She is of us; you are not,” and the page turns, “She will free us; you will not.”

Ozymandias doesn’t speak, but his presence is as sharp as a blade—the air feels thick with something unfinished—Nick rises from his chair, I feel the urgency in his movement, “Let’s go,” his voice is a quiet command, but there’s something else beneath it—his own unease, a shared awareness that this is far from over.

Nick’s grip on my arm tightens slightly, a subtle warning I don’t need—his instincts match mine, and as the door shuts behind us, (and the book tucked into the crook of my arm), I know that whatever Ozymandias has left undone, it will find us again.

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Written for Denise’s Six Sentence Story including the word “perfect “.  Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2025.