Mr. Cravitts’ Book Store

A book shop that is no longer there

If we had been good for a whole month, father gave us each fifty-cents. My brothers tripped over each other to get to the candy or ice cream cone shop first. I went to Mr. Cravitts’ Book Store instead.

When the door squealed open, Mr. Cravitts’ parrot squawked, “Go out. Come In.“

A crookedly lettered sign, 5 books for .50, hung over several shelves in the darkest, dustiest corner of the shop. I piled books on the floor, sat down to chose my dreams and adventures.

Too soon, the parrot excitedly “chimed” “You’re early. You’re late.”

Reluctantly removing books from my lap, I slowly unfolded my legs. With five treasures in my book-bag, I left my .50 cents on the counter, slammed the door behind me and ran for home.

Winter — open coat flapping. Fall — scarf unraveling.  Spring – rubber boots splashing. Summer — floppy hat slipping.

In my attic office, there is an old battered bookcase stuffed with ragged, torn and much-loved books. Mr. Cravitts and his book shop are gone, but not his treasures. A crookedly lettered sign stands on the top of the book case: 5 books for .50.


Written for the January 25, 2015 edition of Sunday Photo Fiction so creatively and capably run by Al.


2 thoughts on “Mr. Cravitts’ Book Store

  1. I have a treasury of books which I promised myself would go to my grandchildren. I have had to find them their own copies as I cannot part with mine..your story was like a peek into my past. “Twas a lovely tale..


I like first person narratives.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s