Thorn Bush Grasses

My library was the best on the block. It would flood with kids coming in and out after school to look for a book for their book clubs. I loved just sitting back and watching all the shelves of books empty themselves out and my associates filling them back up. I loved reading. Something about it just gave me a rush of adrenaline. I was able to read thousands of books at a time until I lost my sight. I don't like to tell people what happened with my sight, but I can only give a little clue: a book.

Lucy Jane was a regular. She came in every day explaining to me what was happening in her book with excitement in her voice. After she would finish books I would recommend books for her to read. She would usually take my recommendations, but she sometimes didn't always listen to me. One day she came in looking for a new book but didn't come to me right away, instead, she started looking and searching for one book in particular. When she found it she brought it up to me and asked if she should read it. I feel with my hands the dust and dirt that filled the cover of the book. I feel the rough torn edges of the pages and ask her what the book is called. She replied with "Thorn Bush Grasses, By Edward C Klause." I gasp and lean back. "Put that book back where you found it and never touch it again!" I reply angrily.

"But I want to read it."

"Trust me you don't."

She doesn't reply with a question, instead, I can hear her turn away and drag her feet back to the bookshelves.

Every day she would come into the library asking about this book. I would tell her the same thing I have said to her all along, "You don't want that book. Let's just say that book is not a very 'nice' book."

"But I have never heard of this book before and it seems like it could be a good book. Have you even read it?" she replies with a little animosity in her voice.

"I did read it but, like I said it was not a very 'nice' book. Now just put it away and don't read it. I am warning you. If books could kill they would. Some books may just do that."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Nothing. Just put the book back." I respond quickly trying to avoid a touchy subject.

She goes to put the book away and I can hear her sigh as she drags her feet across the carpet. As I listen to her feet drag I think about the book and what was in that book. I thought about what she was doing as well. She was probably putting it back on the shelf, she would look at me as she would slowly put it on the shelf, and would slowly walk back. When I hear her finally reach the door I step into the hallway and add "I strongly encourage you to please read something else. I just don't want you to end up like me. Just trust me on this one. Okay?" I get no response in return, but I know she heard me and was thinking about it the whole way home. I carefully sit back down and listen to all the children race in and out picking up books and dropping books off.

I didn't hear from Lucy the rest of the week until I was packing up late one night getting ready to close the library and I hear footsteps heading back towards the bookshelves. I grab my leading cane, which helps me walk without seeing, and walk back towards the sound of the footsteps. The footsteps lead me back towards the location of "Thorn Bush Grasses" and I immediately know who those footsteps were; Lucy Jane. Before I can tell her not to take the book I hear her run off and out of the library. I am sure she went home and did the same thing I did. She would crawl into bed, take the book out of her bag and open up the book. She would get half way through the book and see the pages turn to life right in front of her very own eyes.

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I never heard from her since that night. She never came back to the library nor did any of her family members pick her up another book or ask for any recommendations ever again. I never knew what exactly happened to her but her mom came back with the book and she handed it to me and said, "She won't be needing this anymore, nor any of the books in here." As she walks away I feel the crisp edges of the book and come across I little thorn at the edge of one of the pages. I promptly close the book shut and put it back on the shelf, remembering what I had seen the last night I read this book, the last night I ever saw anything.