Photo by Kane Hsieh
_______________________
She put the book back on the dust-lined shelf and, as she sat down at the table, inhaled the musty but familiar smell of the old library. She had been coming here since she was a small child and this building had watched her grow in so many ways: picture books, tween paperbacks, teen romance, and adult non-fiction.
She quickly typed the title of the book now shelved and added the author and the ISBN to the spreadsheet on her computer labeled, "To Read Next".
With only a few more minutes before the library closed, she knew she needed to put her things away and check out the stack of books perched on the table beside her.
It was hard for her to leave that night, just like every evening she had spent in the library before this. But, she knew she had to go so she gathered her belongings and made her way to the check-out desk.
She handed the librarian the stack of books she wanted to check-out and passed her a handwritten note.
The note read, "Thank you for working here. I love coming here and, without your efforts, I don't think the library would be the same. I am deaf and cannot hear the conversations and expressed emotions around me. But, in the world of books, I can! I love it when I can "hear" communication in the text. Thank you for making that possible for me."
...and the librarian, with tears welled up in her eyes, reached over the counter and touched the girl's arm and said, "Thank you", hoping that the girl could read lips.
The girl looked into the well-worn eyes of the librarian and nodded her head up and down in agreement.
The girl saw and felt emotion. Maybe she didn't need to "hear" communication after all.
~ Denise ~
One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.
12 comments:
Perspective
Straight shelves
Angle into the distance
Books lined upright as can be
Tilt, about to tumble
Down, down, down
Off the shelves,
Into my thoughts.
BOOKS OF LIFE
A good book is like an old friend,
Always there when you need her,
Giving advice and opinions
Helping you see a new day
Books are my sustainance
Feeding and nurturing my soul
Showing my options
In crystal clear display
So many books, so little time
So many words, so little leisure
Chronicles, narratives, bulletins, scores
Seasons, spaces, intervals, joys
She's thinking about how she finally could get a private place to chat online with her friend about so-in-so dating so-in-so when she really likes so-in-so and so forth. The library ended up being the perfect place to escape the prying eyes of her little brother and preoccupy her mother with some book she said she loves.
"I can't believe my parents are shelling out $40 grand per year so I can sit here and wonder what the hell is compassionate conservatism?"
(Literally, this was the first thing that came to mind!)
I can't concentrate at all
on this paper I have to write
but I have to finish it this morning
'cause it's due in class tonight.
I'm sure the sun is shining
outside these colorful caves
of books and desks and other students
flipping page to page.
Every footstep, every cough,
every whisper makes me tense
and the words on the screen in front of me
aren't making any sense!
I need to clear my mind a moment
before I go insane!
Ah, Pictures, Poetry and Prose,
Thank you Laura Jayne!
Shes thinking why the boyfriend shes talking to on her latop doesnt have a mind as creative and insightful as the books surrounding her.
She's feeling lonely, because a whole library of books cant replace the appreciation and love of family and friends.
She's afraid of being hurt.
By lost love, and lies.
And so she remains at this table, haunted by the emptiness of this library, until she can build herself up to face her fears.
She wants a new perspective.
Of life, of love, of death, of dreams, of people, of everything.
She's tired of thinking of things in the same way, and she wants a change. She's looking for plane tickets to a new place. She's running away from the sameness. Shamelessly. She's going to do something with her life. She plans to influence people in a positive way. Change lives. She tears the books from the shelves. Satisfied with her disaster, she walks out, to catch a plane.
it's scary here. i can't believe they're punishing me like this. locking me up in a room lined with books. empty besides for the clumsy, old-fashioned blocks of dead trees that my grandparents used to find information. they don't even have search engines - they expect you to just flip through hundreds of pages till you find what you're looking for.
and this clunky old laptop computer. in the olden days, they thought this was cool & sleek. they thought it was wonderful and fantastic that this old thing was so small and could do so much. ha! this is interesting only for its antiquity, its ancient programs. how slow...and it can't do nearly as much as my SlicQuo X5. which isn't even this month's model. i wish i had it now, i could show Len and Jacelle, they love romantic old things like this. but naturally, that was the first thing Kaarl would take away. he knows this is my worst nightmare - to be locked in a room with no modern equiptment, the newest thing here an old old program named Microsoft Word. all it does is types! what use is this if i can't even rant to the public? Michay can't reply, and not even Tem or Jimi or Harou. really, is there any reason for me to be writing this at all???
She put the book back on the dust-lined shelf and, as she sat down at the table, inhaled the musty but familiar smell of the old library. She had been coming here since she was a small child and this building had watched her grow in so many ways: picture books, tween paperbacks, teen romance, and adult non-fiction.
She quickly typed the title of the book now shelved and added the author and the ISBN to the spreadsheet on her computer labeled, "To Read Next".
With only a few more minutes before the library closed, she knew she needed to put her things away and check out the stack of books perched on the table beside her.
It was hard for her to leave that night, just like every evening she had spent in the library before this. But, she knew she had to go so she gathered her belongings and made her way to the check-out desk.
She handed the librarian the stack of books she wanted to check-out and passed her a handwritten note.
The note read, "Thank you for working here. I love coming here and, without your efforts, I don't think the library would be the same. I am deaf and cannot hear the conversations and expressed emotions around me. But, in the world of books, I can! I love it when I can "hear" communication in the text. Thank you for making that possible for me."
...and the librarian, with tears welled up in her eyes, reached over the counter and touched the girl's arm and said, "Thank you", hoping that the girl could read lips.
The girl looked into the well-worn eyes of the librarian and nodded her head up and down in agreement.
The girl saw and felt emotion. Maybe she didn't need to "hear" communication after all.
One more edit, and this piece will be finished! It's a masterpiece--regardless of who ever reads it. And I'm the one who wrote it!
So thankful that you enjoyed this offering! Thanks for the award. ;)
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