Ah Friday. The weekend is in sight. I don’t know why shorter weeks feel harder than five day ones. I think its because I always feel like I’ve left something undone. That and with the bonkers of May putting me so far behind schedule it feels like I’ve lost something somewhere. I’m just not sure what. I’m sure it will come to me. Until then, shall we get on with our last prompt of the week?
I think I might have spent a little too much time researching. Archives seem to be cropping up a lot these days. Still there are worse things, and personally I kind of like this one.
Friday, June 3rd: Three pages were missing.
Three pages were missing. Mike turned over the folio and searched for them in the back thinking they might have come loose and been added to the back for safe keeping. It had happened to many of the older volumes in the archives and this one had several loose pages already.
They weren’t there. He flipped to the front of the folio. The notations made by the archivist indicated that all of the pages were present and accounted for. He checked the date.
‘That was after the digital archive was created,’ Mike realized. ‘So if the book was listed as all pages present after the digital copy was made then they should be in the digital file. ‘
Mike made a mental note to check on the digital copy at a later time. For now his goal was to not get blamed for the missing pages. He left his belongings where they were and walked the folio up to the counter. The archivist stared at him and Mike made certain to only touch the folio with his gloved hands.
He knew that he had been watched more or less the entire time he was working and he was even prepared to let his belongings be searched if it was thought he was smuggling pages. The worst thing anyone could do here was to revoke his researching privileges. He was even willing to let the ancient crypt keeper search his person if that’s what it took to keep his researching status.
Even as he shuttered at the thought of the man’s bony fingers on him, Mike smiled ruefully for the watching archivist.
“Hi I noticed several pages were missing from this folio,” Mike said. He handed the volume over. He bushy eyebrow of the archivist slowly lifted like a wooly caterpillar arching as he inched his way across a branch. He took the folio Mike held out, placed it on the desk and made a show of pulling on a pair of white cotton gloves. He slowly turned the pages inspecting ach one. He reached the missing pages and his eyebrows descended into a deep v, the two caterpillars having a Tet-a-Tet above his beaky nose.
He ran a white gloved finger over the sine of the book, feeling the ridges. “Ah yes,” he said finally. “I recall the damage. It should have been marked. Thank you for reminding me. Have you finished with the volume?”
“Yes,” Mike replied.
“Then I will ensure it is properly coded.”
Mike blinked and somehow the folio seemed to disappear. The gloves were gone and the archivist was staring at him. “Was there something else you required?”
Mike shook his head. “Um no,” he said. He felt as though he lost a moment of time.
“Then you might wish to gather your things. We will be closing shortly.”
“Of course,” Mike replied. He returned to his table and gathered his notes. He tried to remember what he was going up to the archivist to even discuss. He shook his head. ‘Can’t be that important,’ he thought. He noted that all of the materials he borrowed were checked back in and only his own notebook and pencils remained. ‘I must have been returning the book.’
He shook his head. ‘I’ve been studying too hard,’ he decided. He slipped off the gloves and shoved his things into his bag before dropping the gloves off in the basket to be washed and reused by another researcher.
Ten til Midnight 