Secret Passage in Library - 9/28

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Marty Livingston
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RE: Secret Passage in Library - 9/28

Postby Marty Livingston » Sun Oct 10, 2010 9:29 am

I reached for the book and, as soon as I touched it, the bookcase slid to one side revealing a dark passageway. I couldn’t resist and found myself in a small tunnel. Its ceiling was scarcely high enough for me to crouch down and make my way on all fours. I couldn’t see much even once my eyes got used to the dark, but I felt my way along. I could hear my heart beating and my breathing felt shallow.
What the hell am I doing? I thought as the tunnel made a rapid descent. What could be buried under this old building? The library itself was housed in a structure from the 1800’s. Somehow I needed to know what was at the other end. I heard what I thought was a moaning sound. I knew that wasn’t a good sign.
The earth was damp at this point and I wondered if I was heading for a watery grave. I thought of going back, but was impelled onward by some inner drive. I had to know.
Before I knew it, I was in a couple of inches of icy water. The tunnel proceeded downward and the moaning sounds became louder. I thought I saw a bit of light on ahead, maybe the end of the tunnel. It turned a corner, still proceeding downward. Then it opened into a damp cave. The cave was dimly lit by a trickle of light from way above. At the far end, I could see what might have been an altar. By now I was terrified. I’ve always been claustrophobic. Even without the eeriness of the setting, just being under the ground like this was enough to send me reeling in panic. I kept asking myself, What am I doing here? This is crazy.
I wanted to run, but how could I? I’d have to go back up through the tight, dark, tunnel. I could see that the trickle of light from above was a small opening on the ceiling of the cave, but there was no hope of getting all the way up there.
I searched around, especially at the foot of the altar. I think that at this point I expected to find decayed bodies, bodies of fools who had ventured down here a hundred years ago. Instead, I came across a shelf at the base of the altar. There lay a bunch of books. Their titles were worn and illegible, but when I opened one of them, I could see that it was a book of short stories and that each one had a formula at the end of it. It was too dark and the pages were faced. I couldn’t make out more than that. I had to get at least one of these up into the light where I could delve into its secrets. The books were far too big for me to take more than one.
Holding the book in my grasp I moved back toward the tunnel. It wouldn’t be an easy climb, but I was confident it could be done. That’s when the moaning became louder and I could make out someone in the far corner. I moved slowly in his direction. As I got closer, I could make out his features. He had long straggly hair and an emaciated look. I tried to help him up and he spoke to me.
“Go back, my son, you have seen more than most men. It is forbidden. Go back now or you’ll be trapped here like me.”
“I can’t leave you here. Maybe we can go up the tunnel together. At least let’s try.”
The old man nodded and we began the climb. Were doing pretty well and then, about half way up the tunnel, it was as if the old man disintegrated. I looked back for him and he was gone. All I could find was a small pile of dust and bones. It was then that I realized that we had left the book down in the cave. I certainly wasn’t going back down there alone again. I headed for the top.
I made it and collapsed in a relieved heap on the other side of the bookcase. When I brought others to see the tunnel, the old book that opened the door was gone.

nutnik
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Re: Secret Passage in Library - 9/28

Postby nutnik » Tue Oct 12, 2010 8:26 am

I really enjoyed that. Good job! :emoticon:

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Re: Secret Passage in Library - 9/28

Postby bunnyjoy » Mon Oct 25, 2010 12:05 pm

If I were to go to the library, took out a book that didn't interest a bit. Than all of a sudden a secret passage opened within the book shelves, I would think I was losing my mind or I was in the twilight zone.

NatShap
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RE: Secret Passage in Library - 9/28

Postby NatShap » Wed Oct 27, 2010 12:22 am

I appreciate any feedback. Thank you!



Like most other days in the suburban town I equate to as my interim penitentiary, today I find myself lacking any encouragement to go out and seek a purpose for my being here. As I browse up and down the piles of books resting on my windowsill, then the ones scattered on the hardwood floor of my musty closet, I realize just how repetitive my collection is. Numbers of books on the history of the U.S. government and its CIA interventions sit there, waiting to be finished. Science fictions novels and other apocalyptic themes call out to me, asking to be traded in anticipation to be read by another. Philosophy books from the likes of Plato to Derrida are nicely stacked, with little to no creases on their still smooth covers. Yet, I find myself bored of the titles I find in front of me. So I gather my sorry boredom and head off to the local library to see if something there can draw some enthusiasm out of me.

The old, stuffy smell of the library reminds me of my youth, so I feel inclined to try that long lost sentiment on for size. I decide it is time to be, or at least try to be, innocently inquisitive. Just look around, I tell myself. Look for something out of the ordinary - something different from your truly predictable collection of unfinished, or even untouched books.

I browse the countless rows of bookshelves and come across a corner unit full of 18th century literature – a category I never bothered to open my mind to. I imagine women walking in green gardens, forced to wear corsets and white dresses, carrying umbrellas with their glove worn hands, being escorted by a male suitor. Typical – I glance through. I recognize titles like Robinson Crusoe and Monk, but lack any desire to inquire further. I begin to make my descent to another section of the library – perhaps U.S. history, when suddenly, a title-less yellow book on the top shelf catches my eye. I go for the yellow eyesore and realize I am far too short to reach it. Effortlessly, I give up my inquisitive intentions. But what about that monotonous looking book just below it? The book looks to have years worth of dust eating away at it. It is quite sad, in a way. It sits there, bored, maybe even boring, waiting for someone to come along and give it purpose.

I wipe my finger across the cover of the book with anticipation of some ridiculous, predictable title, but nothing. I am merely left with enough dust on my hand to bless at least a dozen churchgoers on Ash Wednesday. However, I could feel the cover of the book was the type one might come across on an encyclopedia or atlas, making the already dull book even less interesting – if that was possible. I grab the top of the book and feel a very quick, less than a second long, vibration. Accompanying the vibration is a loud click. Moments pass by. I look around the library to see if anyone noticed the ruckus. Nobody looks. Typical – nobody cares. Suddenly, the bookshelf begins to pivot and it opens like a revolving door, leaving just enough space to squeeze through. I glance inside and cannot see anything discernable. The fear of what could be found in the dark space before me brings me to walk away.

When I reach the bench just outside the library doors I find myself sweating, scared and curious, among other things. Immediately, I begin a pro and con list sketching out the reasons why I should or should not explore the infinite space that came before me behind the ever-so-dull collection of 18th century literature.

Why that book? I keep going back to that question. Why is that book, that specific book, the key to whatever lies behind the public walls. It did not seem to have any sort of purpose – aside from collecting dust, of course. And yet, it must sit there, waiting for some literature fanatic to pull on its dusty atlas-like cover. What is the story behind this seemingly dull book? Is it, too, living in a penitentiary?

Out of mere curiosity, I slyly walk to back corner of the library and find the infinite darkness still there, waiting for my arrival. I take one last look around the library. Still, no eyes wonder in my direction. I enter into the infinite space and leave my penitentiary behind.

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RE: Secret Passage in Library - 9/28

Postby mslaurahernandez » Thu Nov 11, 2010 12:42 pm

.
I decided to go to the local library on Friday because I was unemployed and pretty broke. I thought I’d save money and get the old, used version at the library instead of the newer one online. Every penny counts these days and a wise professor once told me to never waste money on books. So for the first time in my life, I was doing just that, not wasting any money on books.
The experience was worse than I could imagine. The Librarians seem to be in shock when I asked them to help me find a book. Apparently, this was something out of the ordinary for them. Anyway, after informing Carry (the second Librarian I encountered) how to spell education, she took me to a book shelf in the back of the building and pointed to the book.
She walked away before I could even thank her. I looked down and a very dusty book with a note sticking out of it and red paint along the cover caught my eye. At first I was afraid to touch it because I feared for my life. This book could be covered with rat poop for all I know! After all, this is the town library. But I decided to go in for it after all.
When I began pulling the disgusting book that would end my life, a force pushed me back and I fell to the floor. A beaming light blinded me and after a few seconds I was able to see a long dark tunnel up ahead.
The first thought I had was, “Did I take my medication this morning?” When I realized I had, I looked into the tunnel and I could hear peaceful, soothing voices up ahead. It calmed me in a way I had never been calm before. I had to follow those voices.
I walked in the darkness and saw a pigeon I saw killed in a car accident when I was a kid. Suddenly, every important memory of my childhood became visible. The more I walked, the less frightening the visions were. I saw my first kiss, the first time my father taught me how to ride a bike, playing with my brother, mom and grandfather. They were all so clear and I had forgotten them all.
The voices were near. I could practically hear them whispering in my ear. It wasn’t what these voices said, but how they said them. They put me at ease. They made me feel all would be okay. The way a night light would help ease me to sleep as a child.
When I got to the end, I collapsed.
When I opened my eyes I was back in the library, with the book in hand. I grabbed the book and ran to the exit. I could see the daylight hitting my face, the children playing outside and the trees all around me. I didn’t understand what had happened to me. Maybe it was some sort of spiritual awakening? I didn’t care. The sweet voices were still playing over in my head and I hoped that they would never stop.
I can now see things clear and I now know where I’m going.

S. C. Crouse
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Re: Secret Passage in Library - 9/28

Postby S. C. Crouse » Sun Nov 14, 2010 3:49 am

Jerry had heard about the hidden doors and secret passages that the bootleggers used during the prohibition years. He never thought that he would stumble into one though. He would never know why, but something compelled him to walk through that doorway. He was surrounded by the gritty mist of a bygone era. It smelled like gunpowder and loose women.
Jerry crept forward, clinging to the shadows of the doorway ahead of him. There were perhaps half a dozen men that had already had too much to drink. The sign above the bar read “Geis's Place.” Bellow that someone had hand painted a sign. “Blind Pig two bits … Free Beer.”
Jerry felt the cold Chicago rain dripping into his collar from the hat brim. He took off his hat and stepped into the light. He slapped the back of his hat against the first table that he came across. His unannounced entrance stopped the festivities as the customers turned to see what he wanted.
The barkeep across from him didn't say anything at first. He stared at Jerry with his squared off jaw crooked at an angle. An unlit stump of a cigar munched up and down as he sized up his situation. He pulled the towel off of his shoulder and threw it across the bar in a vain threat to climb over after it to get to Jerry. He shouted. “You! … I tossed your sleazebag buddy out on his ear. Maybe you didn't get the message.”
The bar shook as the man tried to climb over it to get to Jerry. Suddenly Geis stopped and stepped back from the bar. His eyes widened as he saw the five other guys come in behind Jerry. One of the O'Donnell brothers said. “Maybe I don't hear so well either. Why don't you tell me again so I can give Spike your message, nice and clear.”
Jerry spun around to see a bunch of thugs standing in the doorway behind him. Their squared off grimy features were intimidating enough, even without the glint of steel from their revolvers.
The O'Donnell brothers didn't waste any time. Three of them reached across the bar and pulled Geis over it at gunpoint. The customers quickly exited. One of the thugs said. “Why don't ya tell me again why buyin' our beer is bad for business.” He then punched the helpless barkeep in the eye with the barrel of his gun. The eye instantly turned dark as the blood welled up inside it swelling it shut. The other thugs joined in and beat the poor man with the butts of their pistols even after he was unconscious. They smashed the mirror and left the owner for dead.
They visited five other speakeasies that cold September night. All were the same. It takes a lot of pushing to get a man to do what he doesn't want to do. Eventually they all came around though. One way or another.
It was eleven o'clock before the boys rolled into Klepka's bar for something to eat, and drinks with the boss. Spike was already there. He'd had a few drinks already. Jerry noticed straight away that his collar was smeared. His hair was tossed to the side a bit. He knew somehow that Spike had been having a little party of his own upstairs with the ladies.
They were just slapping each other on the back in congratulations when a shot rang out. It was a warning shot. The bullet bounced off of the brick wall and broke the mirror behind the bar. Standing behind the gun was a shady deputy sheriff. He yelled out. “Hands up or by God I'll blow you all to Hell.” Everyone scattered. Jerry ran for a side door, but was stopped by the cop.
The cop arrested Jerry and took his gun. He was then marched outside into the cold rain. A man was standing there in a long gray trench coat. The deputy nodded to him. The man stepped forward and raised a sawed off shotgun. He pointed it into Jerry's face and fired both barrels. Jerry was killed instantly.
He fell backwards into the street. Jerry woke from his daydream. He was standing in the library. He looked at the book he held. It was, “Chicago Mobsters of the Prohibition Era.”
Jerry quietly put the book back on the shelf and left the Chicago Library. He was glad to be alive.

S. C. Crouse
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Re: Secret Passage in Library - 9/28

Postby S. C. Crouse » Sun Nov 14, 2010 3:49 am

Jerry had heard about the hidden doors and secret passages that the bootleggers used during the prohibition years. He never thought that he would stumble into one though. He would never know why, but something compelled him to walk through that doorway. He was surrounded by the gritty mist of a bygone era. It smelled like gunpowder and loose women.
Jerry crept forward, clinging to the shadows of the doorway ahead of him. There were perhaps half a dozen men that had already had too much to drink. The sign above the bar read “Geis's Place.” Bellow that someone had hand painted a sign. “Blind Pig two bits … Free Beer.”
Jerry felt the cold Chicago rain dripping into his collar from the hat brim. He took off his hat and stepped into the light. He slapped the back of his hat against the first table that he came across. His unannounced entrance stopped the festivities as the customers turned to see what he wanted.
The barkeep across from him didn't say anything at first. He stared at Jerry with his squared off jaw crooked at an angle. An unlit stump of a cigar munched up and down as he sized up his situation. He pulled the towel off of his shoulder and threw it across the bar in a vain threat to climb over after it to get to Jerry. He shouted. “You! … I tossed your sleazebag buddy out on his ear. Maybe you didn't get the message.”
The bar shook as the man tried to climb over it to get to Jerry. Suddenly Geis stopped and stepped back from the bar. His eyes widened as he saw the five other guys come in behind Jerry. One of the O'Donnell brothers said. “Maybe I don't hear so well either. Why don't you tell me again so I can give Spike your message, nice and clear.”
Jerry spun around to see a bunch of thugs standing in the doorway behind him. Their squared off grimy features were intimidating enough, even without the glint of steel from their revolvers.
The O'Donnell brothers didn't waste any time. Three of them reached across the bar and pulled Geis over it at gunpoint. The customers quickly exited. One of the thugs said. “Why don't ya tell me again why buyin' our beer is bad for business.” He then punched the helpless barkeep in the eye with the barrel of his gun. The eye instantly turned dark as the blood welled up inside it swelling it shut. The other thugs joined in and beat the poor man with the butts of their pistols even after he was unconscious. They smashed the mirror and left the owner for dead.
They visited five other speakeasies that cold September night. All were the same. It takes a lot of pushing to get a man to do what he doesn't want to do. Eventually they all came around though. One way or another.
It was eleven o'clock before the boys rolled into Klepka's bar for something to eat, and drinks with the boss. Spike was already there. He'd had a few drinks already. Jerry noticed straight away that his collar was smeared. His hair was tossed to the side a bit. He knew somehow that Spike had been having a little party of his own upstairs with the ladies.
They were just slapping each other on the back in congratulations when a shot rang out. It was a warning shot. The bullet bounced off of the brick wall and broke the mirror behind the bar. Standing behind the gun was a shady deputy sheriff. He yelled out. “Hands up or by God I'll blow you all to Hell.” Everyone scattered. Jerry ran for a side door, but was stopped by the cop.
The cop arrested Jerry and took his gun. He was then marched outside into the cold rain. A man was standing there in a long gray trench coat. The deputy nodded to him. The man stepped forward and raised a sawed off shotgun. He pointed it into Jerry's face and fired both barrels. Jerry was killed instantly.
He fell backwards into the street. Jerry woke from his daydream. He was standing in the library. He looked at the book he held. It was, “Chicago Mobsters of the Prohibition Era.”
Jerry quietly put the book back on the shelf and left the Chicago Library. He was glad to be alive.

xPassionWriterx
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RE: Secret Passage in Library - 9/28

Postby xPassionWriterx » Mon Nov 15, 2010 10:09 am

It was a stormy day, perfect for a movie, or even bowling perhaps. Except in my small town, fun things like that are practically non-existent. So, I decided to do the only thing interesting which was offered in the town, which was the public library. Normally, I would've walked, since the library isn't far, but since it was raining, I had no choice but to take my old, beat up stationwagon. The drive was short and boring, just like this town.

jessicamarie
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RE: Secret Passage in Library - 9/28

Postby jessicamarie » Sat Nov 27, 2010 7:02 pm

Being forced to find a “challenging” book to read by my tutor (who strangely enough still has not taught me anything I do not already know), I browsed the book shelves in the old library in the town of Shelton.
“This library sucks,” I said, “there’s not even a fiction section.”
“Look harder. I’m sure you can find something interesting,” my tutor and neighbor, Ms. Gaville said.
Unwillingly, I started pulling out random books from the shelves and reading the first few pages of them. One about endangered animals, one about the evolution of mankind, and one about African culture.
As I scanned the book case alongside the back wall, a strange looking book caught my eye. It didn’t look interesting, not in the least. But there was something about it that drew me closer.
As I reached for the book, a cloud of dust occupied my lungs from the haven’t-been-touched-in-50-years shelf. I cringed as I coughed so much that I had to take a few steps away from the dust-infested air.
Once I could breathe again, I walked back over to the book which I had left half-way out of the shelf. Slowly, in order to save myself from another coughing episode, I pulled out the book.
Without warning, a loud screeching noise blared through the library. I stood there puzzled as to where and what the noise was coming from, when suddenly the book case along with myself swung around into darkness.
I searched through my jacket’s pockets to see if I still had my mini flashlight that was attached to my car keys. Found it.
I switched the light on and pointed it in front of me…
Was I dreaming? Maybe if I just pinched my cheek I would wake up…nope.
I considered that perhaps I had just fainted from inhaling all of the dust and that this wasn’t actually happening, but in the innermost part of me I knew that I was in fact inside this dark tunnel that looks like it leads nowhere.
I tried to see if the concrete wall behind me would dislodge and take me back inside the library, but it wouldn’t budge. I decided that the only thing left to do was to take my handy dandy flashlight and walk down the tunnel in search for an exit.
Seeing that I am a 17-year-old girl who is too much of a wuss to watch scary movies and has to cover her eyes when a preview for some bloody film comes on television, it was quite scary to walk down the tunnel alone.
The only thing running through my mind was: What if there is a killer in here?
I heard an odd noise behind me which was an indication for me to start sprinting. I ran and ran until finally I saw the ever-so-relieving EXIT sign.
I threw my whole body up against the door and it opened.
Here I was, excited to finally leave the tunnel, in another, even darker than the one before, tunnel.

twistjill
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Re: Secret Passage in Library - 9/28

Postby twistjill » Mon Dec 06, 2010 5:24 am

No need to look behind her. The inch-thick coating of dust on these books told her that not too many people traverse this cove of the library. As she pulled the level down with just the faintest bit of pressure, darkness overtook her. She waited for her pupils to expand, to adjust to the severe drop in light. A cough escaped her for her lungs knew before her eyes did that she had entered into a dusty recess behind the wall. She waited for a second to see if her cough would solicit some type of response, from a person, from a bird or rat, from the rustle of emptiness. When no sound emerged, she lifted her hand from her side and started to extend her free right hand to full length but she was stopped before she could push out her elbow. Startled only in the way that the leg is startled when it misses a step on the stairs, her fingers jammed slightly.
“Damn. I can never remember how small this room is.” She flexed her fingers in an out a few times to relieve the pressure and then found the wall the second time, this time with ease and perhaps just a bit more caution.
Though her lips didn’t part, her mind thought “light.” Not just any light, for the mind knows a succinct accuracy that the lips cannot comprehend. Just as quickly and convincingly as the lips shape the word “light,” so too did her mind instantly evoke the image of the soft morning light that creeps out over a silent field. And so it was in the no longer dark, but still dusty, room. She came to like this image and so she called upon it often.
The soft light held the room in a trance. Moving to the center of room, she thought “chair” without ever thinking the word “chair.” Instead, she just focused briefly on the image of a dark maroon overstuffed chair with a matching ottoman. And so it was in the no longer dark nor empty room. Curling up her agile legs beneath her body, she rested on the arm of the chair and stared.
Not holding an image long enough in her mind, for she learned quite quickly how overcrowded this little room could become. And what a pain it was to mentally empty the room.
“Why was it always easier to create than it was to dissipate?” And yet, even this thought found a way around her talent, her skill once discovered in haste and accident—that her mind didn’t think in words. It just thought it whatever language it understood and was only translated into words by necessity in the caverns of the mouth.
She also learned quite quickly how easily she could tire of what came so easily to her. She remembers with a smile that she too once read The Chocolate Touch. She came here then not to indulge, but rather to try out a more abstentious lifestyle. Funny though it seemed, it was in this room, in the room of could-bes that she felt the presence of the not-yets. It was not a case of modesty, or of veneration. No. It was just how it was. In a world when all the could-bes transformed so easily, so instantaneously into the nows, what pleasure did it afford the mind to stretch and twist into new shapes.
Just as always when she managed to arrive at this point in thought, her body relaxed and unfurled. Her legs spread straight onto the ottoman and the tips of her sneakers dangled over the edge. She swayed them back and forth slowly.
She spoke aloud in a whisper, “not yets.” This little phrase became a talisman to her that could sooth the ruffled folds of her mind. For though she found out that she could call forth less “solid” thoughts into being—recently she experienced with a profound passion and serenity the fire that was “intimacy,” which was startlingly similar to that of rough bark rubbed gently on her soft skin—“not yet” refused to relent. Though she could think it and even speak it, which normally brought forth her wishes with greater speed and intensity, she could not lure “not yet” into being. And so, she was content.

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