On a Moonlit Night

Books over Boys

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(Hey guys!! I'm new to this whole thing so I hope this book is ok. Thanks for the support and reading it. I really appreciate it!!)

My name is Celeste and I have hit rock bottom. I am broke and nearly friendless. Even my one-room apartment is lonely. A lumpy twin bed in the corner never gets made. A wood-burning stove heats the space either too well or not enough, leaving me sweating or shivering on any given day. A few unemptied boxes grow dusty in the corner, storing some small knick-knacks and memorabilia from times I choose not to remember. I hung a sketch on the wall that I discovered in a pile at an estate sale of a deceased professor. It's of a young girl and a woman embracing in the forest. It reminds me of her: my mom.

I prefer to spend my time at the public library a few blocks down the street where it's bright, comfortable, and I spend hours with my nose in a book and mind lost in an adventure. It's where nobody pays attention to me. I browse the stacks uninterrupted and security who patrol the area leave me alone. You see, I have a knack. It's something I've known about for almost my entire life. If I don't want to be seen, people usually ignore me. I can pretend to not be at home when someone comes looking for me.

I can hide from my boyfriend. I haven't spoken with him in over 4 months. We might be together still, but I'm not so sure. I don't really care anyways, my friend Morgan forced me into it saying;

"Gurrrrrl you NEED a boyfriend, how about James? He's cute! I know he has a thing for you!"

I agreed, only to make her happy. It wasn't my thing though. I hated asking him out. His face had brightened and heated up. I did NOT like it. Real people weren't my forte. I prefered my book characters. They were easy to read, and I could think of them in any way I wanted. I know my friend was trying to help in the way she knows how but still, I'd rather read and eat junk food like pizza and ice cream than deal with other humans.

My mouth starts to water at the thought of food. I'm hungry, I've been reading for so long I hadn't noticed my stomach growling. I slowly got out of my reading nook carefully setting my book down and sliding my bookmark into it. My bookmark was the one my mother had given me. It was swirling colors of blue, pink, and red. It was the last gift before....  Even though it happened a long time ago I am still hurt by her disappearance.  I know that she would never leave me.  I still refuse to think of another alternative.  Nevermind. It doesn't matter.  I don't need to think about it now, or ever again for that matter. I really do wish that I could just forget about it all.  I pause before walking away from my safe nook in the corner of the library.

I walk to the library's cafe adjacent to the lobby where I select a package of green tea. I tear it open and place the small sachet into a styrofoam cup. I pour hot water over the tea bag and it turns chartreuse. As the tea steeps I stare at a painting on the wall. It's of a lady riding a white horse with a black blaze. The lady has hair not unlike mine, it's an red to orange to blonde ombre. I have to wait for the tea to cool off slightly so I pull out a dollar out from my blue sweater pocket. I shove it into a vending machine and press D4. The machine wrrrrrrrs and a bag of Swedish Fish falls from its perch in the machine. I grab it and my tea and make my way back to my nook.

I check my watch, accidentally spilling warm tea onto my sleeve as I do. It's 11:45. I look only to reassure myself of the time, I wear a watch but I always know what time it is. I needlessly debate whether or not it matters if I go home to sleep and opt to stay to finish my book. I settle back down in my recliner, set my cup of tea on the table and pick up my book. I pause to remark to the reflection in the window in front of me, "Who needs real boys when you have these beautiful books!" I pry the book open where the bookmark stayed and wrap myself with thoughts of candy, tea, and the glorious heroes who have saved the world.

I imagine Harry Potter as being quite cute with his scar and all, but Neville is the real hero even though the book doesn't display him as the most intelligent, charismatic, pretty, or whatever boy in the series. I had already read the books hundreds of times before. I loved all parts of it, the style of writing, the plot, the characters, even when J.K. Rowling kills me with feels. When that happens I wrap myself in a soft blanket and cry for as long as I need to feel comforted.

I value books more than my own life.  I realize this and look at the ceiling.

While thinking about this I hear the sound of footsteps coming closer. I quickly allow myself to remain silent slowing my breath and my slight movements slowly becoming invisible to others.

"Hey," says a low voice from behind me. I recognise that voice, it's like melted butter

"I know you well enough to know you're there, Cel. Get out of your little nook for once." A familiar voice commands me with a laugh. Why is he here now? How did he know I was here?

To be continued.......

(Suspense...MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA)