The Young Librarian

The Central Library in Bristol is said to be haunted. Libraries are full of ghosts; the eternal thoughts of souls long since departed but saved forever in the pages of a book. As a writer I take comfort in knowing I’ll always leave part of myself behind... but was it ever really my choice?

There was a young librarian, he had hair of red. His skin was the brightest white that I had seen of yet. There was a fair young lady, she had a heart of gold. She came through the open door to read of stories old. It was dark and it was cold, it was a winter’s evening. It was a given, it had been foretold, that she would not be leaving.

There in the darkest corner, all dressed in shades of black, a young mother and her daughter silently were sat. The eye of the fair young lady shot fast to meet the pair but only a book remained for there was no one there.

There sat the fair young lady on a splintered dusty chair she opened the book and read with caution and with care. The air thick with eerie silence clogged in the young girl’s throat for there were the two dark figures holding up a note.

“Watch out for the young librarian. He has hair of red. He’ll take from you the life you lead with spells of fear and dread. He’ll lock you inside the pages, bind you with leather thread, rip from you that heart of gold to take with him to bed”.

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