The Cornerstone Read Online Free Page B

scant attention to historical accuracy, and a beginners guide to taxidermy called ‘Stuff It’.
    All these took a big back seat to the book three quarters of the way along the bottom shelf, next to a biography of racing driver Jackie Stewart.

- 5 -

    At first glance it looked like a perfectly ordinary book.
    At second glance it continued to do so.
    It was old and looked worn around the edges. About ten inches high, an inch thick and with no dust jacket, the book was a rich dark green colour that still retained its lustre, despite the apparent age.
    Picked out in silver writing down the spine was the title:

    The Cornerstone.
     
    All fairly standard stuff, though this book did depart from its fellows in one major respect:
    It was singing.
    The Cornerstone was the source of the choral sound that currently held Max in its firm embrace.
    He knelt in front of the bookshelf as the choir ratcheted up the volume even higher. The small part of his brain that was able to function screamed at Max to get away from the horrible singing book and this awful bloody library. He couldn’t move a muscle though, totally transfixed as he was by the powerful song.
    A glorious silver light began to emanate from the book, pulsing with the rising and falling cadence of the choir.
    It started to flash like a beacon, causing a dark after-image to swim across his field of vision every time it faded. Max wasn’t sure if it was really there, or if oxygen starvation was making him hallucinate, but it was beautiful and terrible all the same.
    In a final desperate bid for survival, Max’s brain piped up:
    ‘Oi! We’re going to die here! Do something!’
    He wiped dribble from his slack mouth and reached out an arm that weighed a ton towards The Cornerstone.
    The effort was monumental. His head pounded, his chest heaved and his entire body shook, as if the temperature had plunged thirty degrees.
    Max’s finger tips brushed the C of Cornerstone and the spell was instantly broken. The choir, silver light and intense pressure on his body disappeared.
    He groaned and fell forward, reaching out a hand to steady himself against the bookshelf, breathing in long, deep gasps of air.
    Max looked around to see if anyone had noticed what had happened, but nobody was paying any attention. In fact, he could only see one tall man in a raincoat, standing in the fantasy section reading the back cover of a thick novel - part two of a five part series. This guy didn’t look like he’d just been put through the wringer, so Max supposed the phenomenon must have once again affected only him.
    He turned back to The Cornerstone, which now contrived to look no different to the other books it sat on the shelf with.
    Three options presented themselves at this point:
    One: Decide he was suffering from some hideous affliction that caused massive hallucinations, both visual and auditory - a tumour of some kind, possibly. Seek medical help immediately.
    Two: Pretend none of this had happened. Go home and have some tea.
    Three: Pick up the book.
    The first option was the most sensible, the second was the easiest and the third had the potential to cause serious physical harm.

    There are certain types of people in this world that when presented with a big red button will have a strong desire to press it, even if there’s a sign saying: Do not press this button.
    If they press it and consequently receive a painful and debilitating electric shock, they sure as hell won’t be pressing that button again.
    That’s not Max, unfortunately.
    He’s the type of person who’ll press the button again to see if the same thing happens every time.
    Reaching out a tentative hand, he shut his eyes and grimaced as his fingers came into contact with The Cornerstone...

    Nothing .
    Nada. Niet. Zip. Zilch. Sweet FA.
    He poked the book aggressively a couple of times, but this didn’t provoke a response either.
    This is where I pull it out and the universe explodes.
    Max pulled out The