Center Cross

The last way to the treasure had been a historical portal, found in a small library just outside town, due to the leaving of many people. But the clues had remained, bound in the spines of old journals. Each had a pressed flower just inside the cover; there were eleven of them.

The librarian had read them and feared the results of others doing the same. She was not tempted by gold hidden in the mountains above the dying town. She was at home here in the aisles of her little kingdom. And heaven help the town, where no consensus could be formed, that was to get a treasure map; which you had to believe in.

All this trouble in an unlikely and unexpected bequest from the matriarch of the town upon her passing three months ago. The old woman had never given away even a penny, except to the 'churchs', which she had supported in their building programs, honing the competition among the salvations. Even had everyone gone to the same service the sanctuaries would not be filled.

Anyway, Liz, had her doubts about the leather bound books on the shelf in her office. For now the rest of the collection she had categorized, labeled, and recorded in her pinched hand. She had never had so many people in to check out books and for the first time in her tenure anyway, she had a waitng list, actually dozens and dozens of waiting lists. Liz had had the sense to limit the checkout preiod using the new book rule: one week no exceptions, double fines. Years to go.