The Pearly King 5

"The Fisher's son, Edmund, an intelligent and classy boy, had grown up to have an elegant and gainful interest in the past, and after the death of his parents had inherited all their various effects, including miscellaneous papers, among which the above narrative was found.
Edmund was tall, neat, ash-blond, respectable. For him the story seemed to be of great importance, and being interested in the profits to be had from the antiques market he speculated about its potential value. He decided to preserve his copy of "the Pearly King", the only one in existence. He had had it framed and insured, and exhibited it periodically in local museums.
Far in the future, the air and weather had got to the manuscript. Leaves had fallen and drooped off, the thing was torn and creased almost beyond recognition. As if it had lain about on tatty floors for decades, or been kicked endlessly up and down a flight of stairs. Like a dessicated corpse, like a withered leaf. Finally, all that was left in its sturdy frame was one page, on which thin, ancient type could still be made out. The page torn at the edges, impossibly creased and fragile, as thought it could, at a touch, crumble to dust.
Local paper sent to photograph Edmund. With the one remaining page set behind him in its frame. Now priceless. A great art treasure. Relic of a bygone time. His face beaming, red-cheeked. Surrounded by memorabilia and museum-pieces".
And, in this way, the story ended.