When I was young in the library, I would run my fingers across the book columns, feeling the engravings of titles on the books and the leather bindings. I would pull out a random book, and let my fingers skim across the letters and the loppy writing of the more aged ones. It smelled of old pages, ink, and dust. I would sit cross-legged in-between the shelves so that I become hidden from view and lost in the world of the story.
The bindings on each book had a different texture, and feeling, making one be able to tell what ones were mostly loved and what ones were mostly forgotten easily. The yellowed pages of the older books had a feeling of feathers, and the most delicate of the bunch. The crisp white pages of the newer books felt firmer, and solid.
When I was young in the library, I would find a quiet, and isolated spot in the library, and get lost in the books I was reading. It always felt like a short time, but in reality, it was many long hours that I spent in the library. When I was young in the library, I would wish to never leave the safety of the books.
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Quick writes
Short StoryQuick written stories written in three to five minutes. Based on a theme or a sentence. Note: Everything written is fictional, not based on real-life.
