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His Mind is a Library
Dec. 15th, 2018 05:25 pmA light flickers on. You awaken, and look around. The library is bright and beautiful. Tall arched windows let the sun in which gleams off of the soft walnut shelves that are clean and ready to be used. Empty but destined for so much more. You smile.
Simple books of shapes, colours and gibberish that may one day be words start to appear on the shelves. You read these books, cover to cover, as small as they are each one is unique and precious to you.
As time goes by the books become thicker, words more complex, the shelves more full. It takes longer to read them all but you know where each and every one belongs. Sometimes things go missing, small things, little books that don't quite matter and won't be noticed by anyone but you.
"Music! where is the music!" Someone rushes past you searching, you sigh and point to your left. They rush past again yelling a quick "Thanks" over their shoulder, you don't believe they'll find what they're looking for the Darkness seems to have taken it, though it is also possible it'll pop up in a week or so and inconvenience everyone.
The light from the windows is dimmer as you wander the shelves. Picking up and reading parts of books before passing it by and choosing others, nothing seems to be very engaging tonight. Maybe it'll just be one of those kind of nights.
The Darkness is encroaching further, books have been lost more often, entire shelves are missing. The others are running to and fro trying to save as much as they can. You just sigh, wait and read.
You look up from the book, which has run out of words. The library is quiet, the darkness almost absolute. The flickering lamp on the table is the only source of light left. You stand, closing the book, and placing it on the table. "It has been an honour," your voice is hoarse and surprisingly loud in the silence. You reach out for the lamp, and turn it off.
Simple books of shapes, colours and gibberish that may one day be words start to appear on the shelves. You read these books, cover to cover, as small as they are each one is unique and precious to you.
As time goes by the books become thicker, words more complex, the shelves more full. It takes longer to read them all but you know where each and every one belongs. Sometimes things go missing, small things, little books that don't quite matter and won't be noticed by anyone but you.
"Music! where is the music!" Someone rushes past you searching, you sigh and point to your left. They rush past again yelling a quick "Thanks" over their shoulder, you don't believe they'll find what they're looking for the Darkness seems to have taken it, though it is also possible it'll pop up in a week or so and inconvenience everyone.
The light from the windows is dimmer as you wander the shelves. Picking up and reading parts of books before passing it by and choosing others, nothing seems to be very engaging tonight. Maybe it'll just be one of those kind of nights.
The Darkness is encroaching further, books have been lost more often, entire shelves are missing. The others are running to and fro trying to save as much as they can. You just sigh, wait and read.
You look up from the book, which has run out of words. The library is quiet, the darkness almost absolute. The flickering lamp on the table is the only source of light left. You stand, closing the book, and placing it on the table. "It has been an honour," your voice is hoarse and surprisingly loud in the silence. You reach out for the lamp, and turn it off.
