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Jul. 23rd, 2008

Their fates were interleaved with those of the books, but the books were what was most important, the structure without which their lives would flutter into the flame. So they sacrificed a few of their number, or allowed them to be sent into danger, to protect the books. Most of the monks fled through the tunnels when they heard tales of the arm on the horizon. They took the books with them, as many as they could carry--and that was a great number, for there had been plans in place for such a thing for centuries, since one of the minor monasteries had lost its library during an earthquake, where the second shaking had opened the ground and swallowed the library. They'd salvaged--

Inspiration: [livejournal.com profile] alisgray writing "interleaved."
Story Potential: High
Notes: High potential for somebody else, or if there's a book-specific story contest/anth. I generally steer clear of stories about books, or writers, because I find self-referential writing boorish. So--books hidden, ferreted away, brought out when the heir of the conqueror needs them? Or is the hiding itself the story?

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