BookStop
If you see a stranger...
I am revisiting parts of old stories I started and never finished, hoping I will be inspired to finish someday soon. All comments, whether on grammer or content, welcome.
“Herr Stirling, how nice to see you again.” Ritter turned to place the documents he had been cataloging on the counter behind him and rolled his eyes.
Ritter was one of the best, heck, maybe the best historian Germany had ever seen. At twenty-four he had mastered 7 languages and opened his own research library cataloging Germany’s history farther back than most other historians believed was necessary. He had the largest paper archive in the world, and had a knack for constantly acquiring exceptional documents. One would never guess by looking at him, with his torn and tight black clothing, and his sometimes purple, sometimes green, mohawk, that he was a brilliant scholar. Lucky for Bob, he had met Ritter in his Teegarten tearoom not long after finding the strands of blazing red hair belonging to Elizabeth McHugh sandwiched between pages of his father’s diary.
Bob leaned forward and in a hushed voice said, “Look Ritter, mate, I need you to help me with more research, I found a new document in my father’s attic I think you’ll want to see.”
“Frau Weiss”, Ritter addressed the elderly woman standing at the other end of the long library counter. “Take these documents back into storage for me. Gently. Careful now. Those are over 1200 hundred years old.”
Turning back to Bob, “Come on back to my office, my friend.” Ritter raised the counter top so Bob could step through.
Ritter had gotten to know Bob well enough in last few months to recognize the gleam of desperation in his eyes. Most likely, Bob had found another piece to his father’s Kaiserburg puzzle.
“Nah, this time you should come to my place where we’ll be away from prying eyes.”
Ritter raised his eyebrows in question and reached for his knapsack before following Bob out into the brisk autumn air. They walked in silence the two blocks to Bob’s Teegarten tearoom. Bob moved right past the front windows and door and turned down the alleyway. On the side of the building was a discreet mud-brown door marked ‘Owner Entrance’. Bob held it open and Ritter stepped through into a dim stairwell leading to the attic-apartment over the tearoom.
The attic wasn’t dark and dank like Ritter expected it would be. Instead it was a bright open space with file cabinets lined along the south wall, 2 drafting tables with overhead lights in the middle of the room, and a comfortable looking sofa and chair set on the opposite side. A small piece of parchment lay on the drafting table in front of him. Ritter reached into his knapsack and pulled out a pair of acid free gloves before touching the old looking paper.
It was the corner of a larger document written in his native German, dated September 1948, Leib Gallagher, Habe Stirling grund…then below, erlaubn . Dear Gallagher, I have found Stirling… permission.
“So, it doesn’t mean anything to me.”
“Look, mate. Look at the date. September 1948. That’s when my dad’s gold was stolen.”
“Yeh, but it could..”
Bob held up his hand. “Look, I’m no fool. I’ve read, in your library, none-the-less, that the Erlkonig’s most loyal aide is named Gallagher. You know my dad thought something …otherworldly, as he put it, was going on with that Elizabeth. He concluded that she was Faerie. Smell the paper..It even smells like ginger.”
Ritter held the parchment up to his nose. It was the unmistakable scent of candied ginger mixed with nutmeg and pepper. The scent of the Fair Folk. Now that Bob had something concrete, it looked like Ritter was going to have to form a partnership with him to get to the bottom of this.
“Let me see everything you’ve gathered on Faeries so I can get the whole picture. Maybe we’ll have enough to go ahead with a search.”
“Herr Stirling, how nice to see you again.” Ritter turned to place the documents he had been cataloging on the counter behind him and rolled his eyes.
Ritter was one of the best, heck, maybe the best historian Germany had ever seen. At twenty-four he had mastered 7 languages and opened his own research library cataloging Germany’s history farther back than most other historians believed was necessary. He had the largest paper archive in the world, and had a knack for constantly acquiring exceptional documents. One would never guess by looking at him, with his torn and tight black clothing, and his sometimes purple, sometimes green, mohawk, that he was a brilliant scholar. Lucky for Bob, he had met Ritter in his Teegarten tearoom not long after finding the strands of blazing red hair belonging to Elizabeth McHugh sandwiched between pages of his father’s diary.
Bob leaned forward and in a hushed voice said, “Look Ritter, mate, I need you to help me with more research, I found a new document in my father’s attic I think you’ll want to see.”
“Frau Weiss”, Ritter addressed the elderly woman standing at the other end of the long library counter. “Take these documents back into storage for me. Gently. Careful now. Those are over 1200 hundred years old.”
Turning back to Bob, “Come on back to my office, my friend.” Ritter raised the counter top so Bob could step through.
Ritter had gotten to know Bob well enough in last few months to recognize the gleam of desperation in his eyes. Most likely, Bob had found another piece to his father’s Kaiserburg puzzle.
“Nah, this time you should come to my place where we’ll be away from prying eyes.”
Ritter raised his eyebrows in question and reached for his knapsack before following Bob out into the brisk autumn air. They walked in silence the two blocks to Bob’s Teegarten tearoom. Bob moved right past the front windows and door and turned down the alleyway. On the side of the building was a discreet mud-brown door marked ‘Owner Entrance’. Bob held it open and Ritter stepped through into a dim stairwell leading to the attic-apartment over the tearoom.
The attic wasn’t dark and dank like Ritter expected it would be. Instead it was a bright open space with file cabinets lined along the south wall, 2 drafting tables with overhead lights in the middle of the room, and a comfortable looking sofa and chair set on the opposite side. A small piece of parchment lay on the drafting table in front of him. Ritter reached into his knapsack and pulled out a pair of acid free gloves before touching the old looking paper.
It was the corner of a larger document written in his native German, dated September 1948, Leib Gallagher, Habe Stirling grund…then below, erlaubn . Dear Gallagher, I have found Stirling… permission.
“So, it doesn’t mean anything to me.”
“Look, mate. Look at the date. September 1948. That’s when my dad’s gold was stolen.”
“Yeh, but it could..”
Bob held up his hand. “Look, I’m no fool. I’ve read, in your library, none-the-less, that the Erlkonig’s most loyal aide is named Gallagher. You know my dad thought something …otherworldly, as he put it, was going on with that Elizabeth. He concluded that she was Faerie. Smell the paper..It even smells like ginger.”
Ritter held the parchment up to his nose. It was the unmistakable scent of candied ginger mixed with nutmeg and pepper. The scent of the Fair Folk. Now that Bob had something concrete, it looked like Ritter was going to have to form a partnership with him to get to the bottom of this.
“Let me see everything you’ve gathered on Faeries so I can get the whole picture. Maybe we’ll have enough to go ahead with a search.”
