The quaint old library smelled of musty ink and paper, but held adventures, dreams and escapes bound in casings. The librarian; the petite thing, busied herself everyday with the care of these books. She lived through so many of them since she was a little girl.
It had been a crisp fall day, and there she sat on the floor of the mystery aisle, reading The Hound of the Baskervilles. The suspense of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s writing gripped her entire being.
She practically jumped to her feet. She whipped around to see that boy from school. The one with black hair and blue eyes, doubled over from laughter, only to be shushed from the old librarian at the front desk. Trying to keep things in check.
“Since you like mysteries so much, let’s play a game. Hide-and-seek.” He walked past her and tugged on one of her long braids. She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes and went back to the page of her book she had left off of from being so rudely interrupted. Being the agile kid he was, he slid back on the floor towards her and slipped the book from her lap. “HEY!” she protested and ran after him, “This is clearly your way of getting me to play, but you’re cheating! You got a head start!” She chased him down the aisle, but when she rounded the corner, he was gone. She was getting more and more frustrated, everytime she heard him or saw a glimpse of him, he was already vanished by the time she got there. This kid was good, at this game, and it was the worst game of hide-and-seek she had every played. It didn’t even seem like a game because she wasn’t having any fun. She felt like she was chasing a shadow or ghost of somesort. The only reasons she continued was for one, she wanted her book back and secondly this kid was weird and she wanted to find him. Her curiosity got the better of her, just like reading those mystery novels. She ran and searched until she was breathless and when she stopped to catch her breath, she decided to go home. She could always find another book to read. She turned to leave when she heard a yell of crisis and a crashing sound come from a few aisles away. Both she and the librarian ran to the scene to find the boy lying on the floor at the base of a ladder with a jumble of books surrounding him. He lay there unconscious, The Hound of the Baskervilles still in one of his hands. The girl stood there staring, and before she knew it, EMS had arrived and were carting away the boy on a stretcher, the book that had caused all this slipped from his limp hand and fell to the floor with a thud.
For a while after the incident, the girl had stayed away from the library, but new books were calling her name and something she couldn’t pinpoint caused her to keep returning.
She now sat at the front desk as the new librarian. Keeping care of the place as if it were her own. A busy day of paperwork was nearing an end and the returns cart, she was filling up was almost ready to go out when someone spoke to her back, “Excuse me, do you carry The Hound of the Baskervilles?” She slowly turned to see a man, her age, strikingly familiar with black hair and blue eyes.