Librarians Are Magical_Failure to Object_Cycle to revenge_This Wonderous, Immutable Life of Ours!
Catalog Guide:
Librarians Are Magical
Wordsworth Silvertongue library was the biggest library in the county. Thousands of books lined the shelves which filled the two story building to full capacity. Sunlight poured in through the windows and warmed the Adult section on the top floor. Saffrin rubbed her temples as a patron’s shadow slithered off her desk and followed its owner towards the stairs. It moved like smoke that never rose from the ground and left everything it touched cold. “Finally, I thought he’d never leave,” Saffrin groaned quietly after a minute. She brushed her black hair out of her blue eyes. “If I get one more s...
Failure to Object
“Speak now,” The priest sighed, prepared for this service to be over, “Or forever hold your peace.” The small pause given to afford anyone brave enough to object could have lasted for all eternity, and not a single person in the room would take advantage of it. Beau had spent the entire night before praying that someone would. They all had great reasons to object. They were too young. They had just graduated the day before. These were the small, simple reasons; reasons he was sure Seraphina wouldn’t gut someone for bringing up. There were the more obvious, less talked about reasons as well. T...
Cycle to revenge
www.onedoor.cc CYCLE TO REVENGEIt was morning in the Adelaide Hills on a crisp clear autumn day. The fire season was over and the trees in the Hills were starting to show their autumn colours. It was the time of year that Mark liked most. He wheeled his bicycle out of the shed and started off on the forty-minute cycle ride to the gym where he worked as a fitness instructor. The feeling of the wind behind him propelling him down the hill was invigorating, almost exciting. Today he was on a mission and he felt like he was cycling down the hill of revenge. He pedalled faster and faster, his ...
This Wonderous, Immutable Life of Ours!
Beleaguered by a litany of unpleasant thoughts, I trudge through the ugly nightscape of the city – too tired to sleep, too awake to ignore just how bad things are. All around, the concrete high-rise apartments loom over me, crammed together like a can of sardines. Even when they’re filled to max capacity, those buildings always feel so empty, so quiet. Following the dim streetlights, I continue, unsure of my exact destination. By far, this city’s greatest sin is its lack of a beating heart. There’s not a drop of style or substance, and what little identity it does express is sickeningly base. ...