The odour of burnt wood
and paper lingered in this once-upon-a-time library. My eyes teared up at the
sight, even though it wasn't mine.
"I know this is heartbreaking for you," Alex said, not joking with me for once. He knew
how much I loved books, and it was one of the few things we shared. He wouldn't
spill it out loud, but he too loved reading.
I
trudged amongst the blackened bookshelves, a lingering finger here another
there; my heart breaking with every step.
There
were torched down chairs, splinters of wood and of course long forgotten and
abandoned books, bits and pieces of written and empty parchment. A worn out
chandelier hung from the ceiling. It looked old, must have been the type lit
with candles for the wax seemed to have melted and dried again till it became stone-like.
"The
keeper outside said this library has been abandoned for hundreds of
years," I heard Alex tell me over the bookshelves.
"Too
bad no one has ever considered coming here to rebuild it or salvage what was
left," I answered back.
"May
be it was for the best they didn't. They would have probably brought it down to
the ground and by modern standards built a mall or something."
I
shuddered at the thought. A mall – or worse – instead of a library. I don't
know but modern times seem to have lost all the glory of modernity and buried
the essence of antiquity and beauty. At least that's what I thought.
I
reached out for a book. Its cover was dark red. I believe it would have been a
much livelier red if it weren't for the fire and the lingering smoke. I couldn't
make out the title. Too blackened. I coughed after blowing out some of the
dust. My eyes becoming waterier.
The
pages were so soft they could break to smithereens in my hands. I had to be
careful. It was a medium-sized volume. The English was old but readable,
although it was mixed with what I assumed to be old German and bits of ancient
Irish or Scottish.
There
was something else to it. At first, the book weighed a lot but as I began to read,
it seemed to get lighter, welcoming me to go on. There was a lot I could read
but not understand, although I felt tied to the pages and not in the I-can't-put-it-down
sense but like it's a part of me.
"Delia,
where are you?!" I heard Alex call out, bringing me out of my trance.
Somehow
the volume wasn't as big as I thought it was the moment I held it and I slipped
in to my bag. "Stay here," I told the book, which didn't seem to
mind. Why would it?
"I
thought I lost you in here," Alex said when I appeared from between two
burnt out rows.
I
smiled, gently patting the book in my bag.
He
led me out. As he did, I turned back and made a silent promise to return and
explore the library some more.
 |
| The Ruined Library by J. P. Wilder |
This piece was inspired by the first image in Takhayyal prompt 31. Click the link to read more amazing pieces.
