Library's, my own personal escape. The smell of old books, and the feel of unbleached, crinkled paper between my calloused fingers. Walking through bookshelves reading the summaries and diving into a brand new world. It was eerily quiet today- not that library is ever loud- but a gloomy type quiet, horror movie quiet: or the quiet in a Stephen King novel.
My green eyes flutter above the page to see the disturbance in the silence; a door creaking open, as if the disturber was terrified of opening the wooden barrier separating the rooms. The door squeaks as its slowly pushed open letting trail of florescent light in the window lit room. A strand of midnight hair falls into view from behind the door. I trail along the hair to see a girl; she has thick hair and eyes so intricate a book of adjectives could not describe their density.
Thick lashes Coated in mascara and eyeliner surround her deep irises, meanwhile her cheekbones could cut glass. She carefully walks in and scans the room only to have her eyes land on me. They bore into my soul, and read my thoughts; anticipating my next move.
"Can I help you," her calculating gaze watches my lips move as I talk.
"Where's the Librarian," her voice like ice.
"I spend enough time in here to know enough about the library," I state matter-of-factly.
"Oh," she scowls, "Where's the Cassandra Clare section?"
I move my arms, beckoning her over to the bookshelf that holds what she seeks. I use game show hands to show the mysterious girl three or four shelves of wonderful novels.
"Thanks," she mumbles.
She begins to scan the shelves, running her frail finger tips her the spines, judging every book by its cover. She pulls a larger hard cover novel off of the shelf; turning to me.
"Have you read this one," she asks.
"Actually I have," staring at Clockwork Angel, "It has a wonderful plot with well developed characters."
"Cool."
She walks, carefully slow, over the sign out desk, "I take it you know how to work this too." She's pointing the the computer and barcode scanner.
"You guess correctly," I smile brightly at her.
"thanks," she picks up her book and walks away; leaving me staring at the wall, with goofy grin on my face.
"Hi sweetie."
"Hi mom," I take a moment to look up from my book.
"What are you reading this time."
I lift the book, ever so carefully, up high enough so that she could see the cover.
"That's a good one," she states grabbing the book out of my hand, forcing me to help her with the groceries i her arms.
My mother is the librarian at my favourite library. Her petite height and kind, chocolate brown eyes allow her to get along with everyone. My father isn't in the picture; he never really was I guess. Navy seal, that's why he left my mom, died on the field before I could ever look into his eyes. Mom says they're twin to my own, she exaggerates that I'm a splitting image of him.
"Tibby," she looks over my shoulder, "apples go into the bowl on the counter; not the fridge."
"Sorry mom," I whine like a child; causing her to laugh.
"My baby," she coos while pinching my cheeks.
"Always."
She ruffles my shaggy blonde hair, examining the ends.
"You need a hair cut," she says grinning, "I'll call and make an appointment."
"K," I shout while scurrying up the stairs to finish my book, and escape the world along with societies problems.
AN/ Hey Guys, so I decided I would try and do some work of my own. I also have a Fanfiction.net account where I write some super cool fanfics, link down below, Enjoy, comment; I enjoy constructive criticism and please vote+review
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Like a Shadow
Roman d'amourTiberius James was just a regular bookworm until he met a girl, so passionate about life, that he completely overlooked the fact that she would party with the dead.
