Down to the earth, down to the little state, Manalis, there sat a library.
In the day, the library was a warm place. Sunlight peered through the windows, enlighten the laughing children that were listening to a funny story in storytime. The reader would smile at the sight of happiness rising in the air. Small clusters would form into study groups.
Those study groups were always quiet, but they’d occasionally have a small talk, or perhaps the thud of a book dropping.
If there was any noise, a shh rose simultaneously from the crowd, and then they’d giggle, ruining the whole point of being quiet.
The librarians were always friendly. They’d make noises too. Since it wasn’t a big library, the usual people came. If there was a new person, they’d be immediately welcomed and would fit into a group just fine.
When there was no one talking, there just were the soft crinkling pages being turned, or the beep as books were checked out.
There were chairs-comfy chairs, small chairs, big chairs, hard chairs, lounge chairs, any type of chair. Moms with their children would normally hog the lounge chair area in a playful way. No one fought for a chair. If all the chairs were taken, someone would volunteer to sit on the floor.
If there was rain, everyone nearby would rush on into the library, knowing that they could stay in there for just as long as they wanted, waiting out in the rain, staying dry, and passing by time.
If you weren’t reading, you were talking with a librarian, or a friendly person.
But when the closed sign hung there, a mood seemed to passover. The library wasn’t open-no small chatting, shushing people and then laughing, or studying in groups.
When the library was closed, it was a completely different place.
The chairs that were sat in creaked loudly.
No one was there to shush it and laugh.
Books would randomly fall off shelves.
No one was there to pick it up.
Ivys would crawl up the side and attack the building, blocking the moonlight filtering through the windows.
Rats would sneak through holes in the walls, and nibble on the sides.
Branches would scratch at the window and cast eerie shadows.
When the library was closed, darkness would fall.
When books fell off the shelves, they’d flip.
Flip, flip, flip.
Screech, screech, screech.
Squeak, squeak, squeak.
The books, the trees, the rats-all those noises.
But when the library was open…
Sunlight chased away the shadows.
Ivys inched back into the shades.
Books stopped flipping.
Rats retreated back into their homes and left little nibbles.
Trees edged away from the window.
Chairs would still themselves and stop creeping.
The light chased the dark.
The dark chased the light.