Joss Makepeace // scheherezade (thestoryweaver) wrote in musings, @ 2010-10-11 15:58:00 |
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Entry tags: | scheherezade, wolf |
Book-note
[Right at the very back of the library, below a light that flickers and does not quite illuminate the books enough to read their spines, there is a case of very particular books: high adventure mixed in amongst deep fantasy -- the old kind, prior to science fiction's flights of whimsy, this is fantasy where magic roams and adventurers bend knee before their liege. It is dim and dusty in the very back here, quiet away from the centre of the library (such as it can be called 'more quiet' when the library itself is a tomb, a crypt of silence and wordless reverence) There is an armchair drawn up to the nearest window, one where the paper shade has been bent just enough that a crack of light could chase across the pages of any book held in the lap of someone sat curled up tight inside -- it is an armchair with cracked leather arms and a soft beaten spot that looks like someone has rested bare feet there one too many times.
At the left of the case is one particular book, one she knows the librarian recommends to those who might ask for something other. It is an adventurer, sole and alone, journeying far and wide and questing -- a little like Don Quixote, if he were less sad and much less mad, and if there were the occasional fantastic beast to encounter. It is this book she selects, pulls it out and scans the library card tucked in the back just to check -- there's her name, over and over, but not another newer one. When she leaves the library, the card has an addition -- a note on the back]
This one's a secret but it oughtn't to be and I don't tell secrets. No-men have no-mouths and no-eyes to read with and if they cannot be seen, they cannot be heard. I'd like to write a sword one day, one that didn't cut, and wildness is the same as not-tame. If I could choose one story above all others I wouldn't be their friend. |