My Grandfather was an aloof man who kept himself in a shed out the back most of the time. It suited my Grandmother who said it was for the best as it kept him out from under her feet.

Grandfather’s shed was a museum in its own right. He was a collector of things, he’s go out on a Saturday mornings and collect what he could from garage sales around the town.

Most of it was your usual bric a brac, useless stuff that sat on the shelves year in and year out.

But he also collected books and one wall of his shed was lined with shelves upon which sat a range of volumes from the classics to more modern tomes.

I often found him sitting in his armchair head in a book reading away oblivious to the goings on around him which often included Grandmother calling him to with some household chore or other.

There was one book that Grandfather had which always captured my imagination. It had the fanciest cover and a metal clasp to secure the pages.

I remember asking him about it one day and he was his usual evasive self. I don’t think he liked the idea of me searching through his books or anything in his shed to be honest.

‘Just a old book I found,’ he said. ‘Don’t be touching now, it’s a bit fragile now days.’

He said this in the dismissive way he said most things to me. But the book held my curiosity. I looked at it and thought I am going to look inside and see why that clasp is there.

Two nights later I had a plan, I’d sneak out after everyone had gone to bed and knowing where Grandfather kept the key I’d go in and satisfy my curiosity.

Once inside the shed, I realised it had a very distinctive musky smell, one I’d always associated grandfather with. The book, the object of my midnight raid was there where it always was, sitting amongst the other books I knew Grandfather treasured.

I took it down and felt its weight. It was a heavy book as I suspected it might be. The thick cover was decorated with designs that made some parts stand out and I looked and traced the shape of the flower pattern with my finger.

The clasp was metal, a simple spring held its tension and I could easily loosen it and release the pages.

Inside was an inscription:

This book contains the magic of the Other People. Turn the pages at your peril should you not be of the Other People.

I had never heard of any Other People and so not to be deterred I turned the page.

Suddenly I felt a wind whip around my ankles, a flash of light and then darkness. The torch I had brought with me was out as well. I flicked the switch but nothing was working which was disappointing, as I’d put new batteries into it before embarking on the adventure to the shed.

Then a light came on. Then another.

In the light I saw people.

Many people. Standing. Staring. At me.

‘Who are you?’ a small man nearest me said.

‘Michael,’ I replied.

‘What do you want?’

‘I was just looking into the book.’

‘The Book Of Other People?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘I’m curious.’

‘Are you now.’

‘Yes.’

‘What have you found?’

‘Not sure. You people. Are you the Other People?’

‘Do we look like Other People?’

‘I’m not sure what Other People look like.’

‘Not all that clever are you?’

I now realised that the crowd had gathered around me and stood very close to me. I was beginning to feel hemmed in and there seemed no where else to go.

‘We are the Other People,’ he said. ‘ We Other People see things a little different to you and your Land People. We live within the book. Have always done so. And we are always up for welcoming a new person.’

‘Like me?’

‘Like you.’

‘But I have to get back. My grandparents will be missing me when they wake up.’

‘You see for those who enter through the book there is no going back.’

‘There isn’t?’

‘No. Afraid not.’

‘But what will happen to me?’

‘You’ll become one of us.’

‘And live here in the book?’

‘Yes.’

‘But my family, my grandparents, my friends, they’ll look for me.’

‘Yes they will but they wont find you. No one ever finds them who opens the book.’

‘But in the morning Grandfather will see the book open and know what I’ve done.’

‘Yes he will.’

‘And he’ll do something about it.’

‘Yes he will. You know your Grandfather is such a good man. He always puts the book back on the shelf.’

Written for: http://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2014/07/04/fairytale-15/