A clock somewhere in the city struck twelve. Maybe somewhere else, it was morning.
Somewhere else wasn’t important though.
The books on the shelves shifted, their pages begging to be turned, their covers to be worn and loved. Their ink slowly slipped away, fading every day a little more. No one noticed. No one would notice until it was all gone, leaving behind dusty paper that could crumble in your hands when you touched it.
“You can come out.” The librarian was short, somewhere in his twenties. People joked that he knew everything about the people in the town, but sometimes it turned into something serious and they shivered. The library itself was always cold, drafting winds flowing mysteriously from nowhere, even in the warmest summers.
The teen hiding behind the shelf at the entrance sniffled before dragging himself up and into the candlelight.
“How’d you know I was here?”
“You aren’t very quiet.” The librarian bit off the last of a piece of tape and smoothed it down, fixing a torn page so another child could immerse themselves in the same story again, so the book could feel loved. “You aren’t allowed to be here.”
“I can’t be anywhere else either. It’s my safe place.” A library is one of the only places you feel safe after dark. In a way, you almost wish there were ghosts or creatures of the night to tell the tales of the building holding more stories than anyone could count. A library, no matter how old or new or big or small, is comforting; with its cushions and dimly lit rooms and quiet and walls and walls of books. There are classics and poetry and fantasy and romance that makes you swoon and sci-fi that makes you wonder and biographies that make you laugh. There’s anything and everything and you wonder if it's ever real laced into fiction or if it all really lived in someone's head.
“Are you hiding from something?” the librarian didn’t mind the company. That is to say- he was usually alone and he didn’t mind that. He didn’t mind not being disturbed. But he also didn’t mind maintaining conversations and being with others.
“Someone.” They ran a hand through their hair, muttering.
“Oh?” Librarians have to have the best hearing, see, to make sure no one’s speaking and disrupting the silence or the pitter-patter of rain that’s sometimes heard on the windows.
“My father,” they shrugged as if to explain.
“Does this father of yours come to the library often? Or at all, even?” The librarian’s fingers twitched. He straightened a pile of books and blinked at the time that sat motionless and green on the digital clock on his desk.
“Yeah, sometimes. On the weekend usually, for ‘work stuff’. He’s always wearing a green tie. Green like-”
“Like the vines covered with thorns, begging a prince to come to save the princess locked behind their wall? I’ve met him.”
“I was going to say grass, but hey, that works.”
“Could I ask why? You’ll have to leave soon, you know.”
He did know, but he didn’t want to. He also knew both of his parents likely hadn’t even realized he was gone yet, which angered and saddened him at the same time.
“I wish I was important.”
The librarian cupped their cheek in their hands, leaning on the desk. “Don’t we all?”
The kid laughed, sitting back down on the floor and bringing their knees to their chest.
“But you can’t say that.”
“And why not?”
“Well...you are important. The city would notice if you disappeared. If you ran away to an old library after dark.”
“Mm, but they don’t, do they? No one really has any idea that this conversation is happening right here right now. It’s like a secret.”
Like a secret, because secrets are words, not actions. They’re whispers.
But then again, actions can seem like whispers sometimes too, things shared, or at least supposedly shared, between only two special people. Like a kiss or a lingering gaze.
The librarian chuckled softly.
“You guess? You need to be certain, you won’t get very far in life with guessing. I hope it isn’t your test-taking strategy.”
“I mean...yeah. I gu-suppose you’re right.”
“Synonyms, but that’s alright. You’ll learn to be sure of yourself. Without faking.”
“See, you did it again. It’s yes or no, because sometimes there is no in-between. Let’s practice- what do you think of death?”
The boy blinked, staring straight down at the creaky floorboards.
“That’s not a yes or no question.”
“No, but it leads to one. I can skip to the question if that’s what you want. Do you want to die?”
He exhaled, tapping his fingers lightly against his side.
“N-No.” His voice cracked as he spoke, and he frowned.
The librarian yawned, stretching his thin arms.
“Mm. What time do you usually sleep?” It was getting late and the librarian wondered how late the teen was used to.
The teen almost laughed, sweeping a hand through his hair again. He shrugged.
“It ranges from about 7:30 to 3:00am.”
The last digit on the digital clock changed, from a six to a seven, brightly disturbing the darkness. The librarian blew out his candle so it was just that neon green illuminating his face like magic. Smoke from the candle wafted away, disappearing somewhere into the building, though all the windows were closed.
“And today? When are you planning?”
The boy checked the time on his small watch; an analog, so he could barely see the hands behind the glass. He squinted and sighed, making out the small hand on the twelve.
“I guess as soon as you kick me out.”
“You live far from here?” The librarian didn’t want to leave the boy alone, but he also couldn’t stay in the library much longer. He was growing tired, and he hadn’t even had his daily tea yet.
“I guess it depends on what you determine as far.”
The librarian walked out from behind the desk, twirling a key in his hands.
“What’d we say about certainty? Come on, I’ll take you home kid.”
“Thanks.” The teen got up slowly, smoothing down his sweatpants and hugging his arms to his sides. The librarian set a hand on the boy’s shoulder, leading him to the oak door. He pushed it open and they walked out. It closed by itself behind them.
They walked to the only car in the vacant parking lot.
There’s just something about driving at night, or even riding, that makes you breathe a little better, see a little clearer. The boy pointed directions to his little house, and for the first time, didn’t feel his throat clog up or his eyes water as they neared the house.
“Stop,” the boy said, staring at the handle of the door. The librarian leaned right and opened it.
“Remember what I said about guesses, yeah?”
“Yeah. I will. Thank you.”
It was for the ride and for other things too. The librarian just nodded as the boy walked out and slammed the car door behind him.
As the librarian drove away, the boy thought of yes, no, and maybe.
When the door opened for him, his mother with her hair in a bun and red rims around her eyes greeted him with a hug.
“Do you have any idea how worried we were?” she whispered into him, still half outside and half inside, robe hastily tied at her waist.
“I...No.” He hugged her back, tight.
“Well we were about to call the police, so you’re lucky you showed up when you did.”
“Yeah, lucky…” The boy sent more silent thank yous to the librarian- like a secret between him and the wind. They walked inside and closed the door and the boy stared up at the ceiling and felt like the house was suddenly a little more like home.
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That was quite compelling. I love stories that have a hint of sadness in them, woven together with soft prose. I'm still stuck on this sentence... "Like a secret, because secrets are words, not actions. They’re whispers. " I love this! Well done :)
Thank you so much! I love them too. I'm so glad :) Thanks for your time!
This is a beautiful story!
I loved this story. One of the only ones I took the time out of my busy schedule to actually read. I really love this!
Aw, thank you! :)
Amany, you aren't Bridget Summers, are you?
Well, um.... she's impersonating you...
Hey Amany!! Perhaps you wouldn't know me all that well, since I have started being active on Reedsy, only a few months ago... Even though I'm late, I just wanted to say, the story was especially inspiring, since your stories are like really poetic and I try to integrate that in my stories...not quite succeding always.... In other words, I absolutely loved it!!!!
Hey there! Oh, cool! OH, thank you so much! Aww, thank you! Practice makes perfect. I'm so glad!
:D I would really appreciate, if you could find time to review my stories!(preferably Don't Look Back) Thanks!
So lovely, this story. I was taken with the opening line - it's as though it set the story in a cloud and everything else about the story fell along those lines. Most of the people who commented below used words like "soft", "detached", "shades", "hint" and "tinge". I agree with all of that. I don't know how you achieved the voice you did, but it fit the development of the story so well. It almost felt a little like Winnie the Pooh....I don't mean like a child's story, but with the simplicity of the librarian's words masking these deepe...
Thank you so much! I'm not sure what I did. I tried to mix the 'poetic' feel I strive for with just good ol' regular prose, describing what people are doing in a story. Yes! Simplicity is so beautiful. Thanks again, you always make me smile with your comments :)
this is... just amazing, do you know that i held my breath?, there is a tinge of magic in here for sure...
Aw, thank you :D
That's deep. I loved the librarians lesson on certainity. Also, the ending.
Thanks so much!
This was beautiful, sad with a finishing flourish of hope. I thought it flowed well and the dialogue was good. I was a bit confused when the librarian asked his normal "sleep time". It didn't feel like a natural question for him to ask and why wouldn't he say "bed time"? Other than that, I enjoyed it. A good story.
Thank you! You're not the first to comment on that area, so I'd better edit it. Thanks for your time!
Hi Amany! I enjoyed this story a lot. It felt like watching an eclipse, these two lives colliding just for a little while. I liked how subtly your characterization is woven into the story and especially into the dialogue. My suggestion would be to consider editing the part where the librarian asks all those questions. I liked the ones about death, but the others felt like they didn’t quite fit. Maybe instead of asking when he goes to sleep, she could ask another big question, like “what does it mean to be alive?” or something to balance ou...
Thank you so much! I see...The point of that was to signify that the librarian was getting tired, not really an important question. They were trying to say that they wanted to sleep though they didn't want to leave the kid alone. Thank you for your time!
i loved this story! it was sweet, and soft, and it had some really beautiful prose in it. quick question, too, amany... your take on the bridget summers thing? you're kind of a victim, so i kinda wanted to hear your view on it. you don't have to if you don't feel like explaining, but it'd be nice for a simple observer like lil' old me :D. great job!
Oh wow, 70 stories! That's a lot- Hmmmm, how do I describe this one? It was sweet, short, but also long. Like a snapshot in time between two different but alike characters.
I know right! Hm, thank you for the feedback!
Aw, I love this! There’s kinda two types of stories on Reedsy, prompt-dependent ones and longer stories with a plot of their own (I try to aim for the latter, but, like, my newest was the first one), and often times I’ll get bored with story, low-action ones. But you wrote this so well, a perfect example of “short and sweet”! I love the AsThEtIc of this story, how it’s layered with soft shades of ominous, a hint of sadness, and also, idk, nostalgia. The way you wrote it was almost poetic, with 3rd-person POV but really detached. Also, the fi...
Thank you! Aw, yay! Yes, it had some dark academia vibes. Awww, thank you so much! Ha, I was happy with the first line. I will, thanks!
Great story: Pls join this link... https://www.guilded.gg/i/6pR8goy2
Absolutely loved the opening description of the library - and the books almost being sentient. Very touching story.
Great story with a happy ending. I love the librarian. He was a guardian angel. Your story reads fast. Great job!
Such a captivating story, with beautiful characters, and great pacing. I loved it, and I'll be checking your other stories too. 71 stories, that's something. I'll try to do one story of yours a day, you will be hearing from me allot in the next few weeks.
There was some really nice imagery here 🙂
Hey! Since Whisper . had to leave Reedsy, she asked me to continue the Project Ignite series, but I've realized that I don't have all the characters. Whisper . gave me a list of Reedsy people who submitted characters, and I have a form here for you to fill out (If you still want to have a character in this series): https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1T_vLLr3F7axq-aDvjKjZ8S3ns4P50DYfXmBZIp29IgI/edit