Berenice said, “This is your room.” They took Nicholas to the second bedroom. Beside the bed couch stood a desk and chair with a large codex lying open on it. Old Nicholas said, “I bring home the books of the apostles from our assembly hall and study them here. I hope you don’t mind them in your room.”
“Not at all,” said young Nicholas, appreciating the open book. He reached for the pages, asking, “May I?”
“Yes, of course.”
Nicholas turned the pages and found it a compilation of five books, Mattheos, Iannos, Lucas, Marcus and The Acts of the Apostles. He said, “If you don’t mind, I would like to read them when you’re not using them.”
“Yes, yes,” said his uncle.
After dinner, Nicholas turned to The Acts of the Apostles and couldn’t stop reading it. Two and a half centuries had passed, yet it felt as if it had just happened today. Part of him craved to be a part of the action where believers stood boldly in the face of opposition. Part of him felt relieved to only read of it. When at last he checked the lamp stand to give it more oil, he found it was the only light remaining in the house. His uncle and aunt had retired to their room for the night.
His mind swirled with thoughts of the day and he couldn’t sleep. He wandered into the atrium and looked up at the moon. Perhaps he could be a part of the action, but in a quiet way. He thought of his secret treasury back in Patara. He would need to find a new place nearby to keep his gold, or at least some of it. And he would have to do it without anyone knowing of it, even his uncle and aunt. They would hear him opening the front door, so he would have to find another way out.
Four slender columns stood at the corners of the atrium. The roof looked like it might be in reach. Nicholas scrambled up one column. He could just wrap his fingers around the edge of the roof—a bit tricky, but he thought he could do it. He hugged the column with his legs and one arm, and gripped the edge of the roof with the other. With a quick swing, he let go of the column, spun around and grasped the roof with both hands. His body dangled over the pool, facing the column. If he slipped, he would end the night very wet with a lot of explaining to do. He swung up his feet against the column to halt his swing and soon pulled himself up onto the roof.
“Not at all,” said young Nicholas, appreciating the open book. He reached for the pages, asking, “May I?”
“Yes, of course.”
Nicholas turned the pages and found it a compilation of five books, Mattheos, Iannos, Lucas, Marcus and The Acts of the Apostles. He said, “If you don’t mind, I would like to read them when you’re not using them.”
“Yes, yes,” said his uncle.
After dinner, Nicholas turned to The Acts of the Apostles and couldn’t stop reading it. Two and a half centuries had passed, yet it felt as if it had just happened today. Part of him craved to be a part of the action where believers stood boldly in the face of opposition. Part of him felt relieved to only read of it. When at last he checked the lamp stand to give it more oil, he found it was the only light remaining in the house. His uncle and aunt had retired to their room for the night.
His mind swirled with thoughts of the day and he couldn’t sleep. He wandered into the atrium and looked up at the moon. Perhaps he could be a part of the action, but in a quiet way. He thought of his secret treasury back in Patara. He would need to find a new place nearby to keep his gold, or at least some of it. And he would have to do it without anyone knowing of it, even his uncle and aunt. They would hear him opening the front door, so he would have to find another way out.
Four slender columns stood at the corners of the atrium. The roof looked like it might be in reach. Nicholas scrambled up one column. He could just wrap his fingers around the edge of the roof—a bit tricky, but he thought he could do it. He hugged the column with his legs and one arm, and gripped the edge of the roof with the other. With a quick swing, he let go of the column, spun around and grasped the roof with both hands. His body dangled over the pool, facing the column. If he slipped, he would end the night very wet with a lot of explaining to do. He swung up his feet against the column to halt his swing and soon pulled himself up onto the roof.
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1 comment:
You know what I like about this format? You don't know how long the book is. I've read so many books where you know when things are going to start winding down or at least you can make good guesses at where the plot is going to do certain things because you are holding the complete text in your hands and can see your progress. This feels more open ended and adventure-y.
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