I in frustration at the sign that greets us in the lobby.

"No internet. That's it. Another day, another chance slips away."

"Did you know that the card catalog was once the key to the library's collection?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about." My mother is always making references I don't understand. I gaze over the rows of silent terminals feeling desperate.

"I don't have time for this," I mutter, turning to go back to the van that is currently doubling as our home.

"Are you giving up?"

Am I giving up? Well I have applied for forty-seven jobs using those terminals. I've gotten sixteen 'thanks for applying but...' emails. Nobody else bothered to even send a 'no thanks' email. Not having a diploma has locked me out of most of the opportunities that might put a roof over our heads. And now the information I need is hidden.

"Are you aware that they still put information in print books?"

"Not the information we need."

"How do you know?"

My mother hobbles toward a desk marked "Reference" where a man is sitting.

Waiting tables became impossible as the disease that will eventually put her in a wheelchair began to limit movement. She lost her job. We got evicted right after school let out for summer. In a year I'll graduate and things will be better.

Our van is pretty comfortable unless it's really hot or really cold. It's a sunny summer day outside. The library is deserted because most people left as soon as they noticed the internet is down. The air conditioning is nice, though and we'll probably stay through the hottest part of the day. We come to the library and use the computers and read books and magazines because it's clean and safer than sitting in our van all day. The park is nice too, sometimes. It's weird being homeless but we are figuring it out and telling ourselves it's temporary until one or both of us gets a job.

"Excuse, me can you help us find some information?"

The man looks up and smiles, "I would love to help you."

"Jessie, would you explain what we need to know?"

I walk up the desk. This is a new experience for me. We use the library computers almost every day but I've never actually talked to a librarian or checked out a book. I don't think they give out cards to people who don't have permanent addresses.

"I have a job interview and I need to find out as much as I can about the company and the person who is interviewing me. I have to corporate address but I want to drive over and look at the warehouse where I'll be working."

I don't say because my mom will be parked in the van and I need to know if the area is shady.

"Of course. There is a directory of small businesses in the reference stacks. You can't check it out but you can use it here."

"How will we find it without a card catalog?"

The man's eyes light up, "Speaking my language."

"Not mine," I mutter.

"Honestly, I've been here so long I know where everything is. The Dewey Decimal system is in my head. The local business directories are in 381 with business and commerce."

"How long have you been here?" Mom asks.

"35 years. We had a card catalog and a computerized catalog when I started."

"Here," he hands me a book, "Businesses are listed alphabetically with current information about leadership, revenue, etc. along with the physical addresses. You might want to read up."

"My future might depend on this. Thank you so much."

My mom points at a line she found in another book she found on the shelves

I look over her shoulder and read, "Everything you need for a better future and success has already been written."

"Do you think that's true?" Mom asks.

I shrug. Mom with her weird questions. I don't know if she's bored or her disease is affecting her mind, but lately she's been so freaking philosophical.

"I think that's a very limited perspective because new information is always being added to knowledge that already exists. That's why I love working in the library," the librarian answers.

My mother smiles, "I think it would be wonderful to work in a library."

"We are hiring at the circulation desk right now."

"Oh I don't have a degree or anything. I just need a job where I can sit now."

I sit down at a table and type the address into my phone. I read through the entry and notice the name of the HR person who called me to interview. I try to figure out if my supervisor's name is in there. It might look good when I go into the interview if I know this stuff. I take notes about the earnings and look at a big chart showing who is who's boss. I realize I will look like an idiot if I mention it but don't know what it's called.

My mom and the librarian are deep in conversation.

"Excuse me, what's this chart called?"

He looks at it, "Organizational chart. Good strategy if you are going for a job interview."

I nod. After a few more notes I feel ready to go. The librarian is at the copier when I return to the desk,

"I make a copy of the most frequently asked job interview questions so you can practice your answers. It's a good idea to think about what you are going to say before you go into the interview."

"Wow. Above and beyond. I had no idea librarians knew all this." I say

"Their skills are probably very underestimated and largely underemployed," he replies, "Especially since so much is online and available without consulting a librarian. But we are trained to sift through information and make evaluations. I love it when someone lets me help."

He hands another copy of the questions to my mom, "I hope you'll consider applying. I think you have a very good chance. I also think you should consider these options. I think you are entitled to some help based on what you've told me." He hands her another list.

As we walk to the van my mom and I are quiet. I feel more hopeful than I have in months. My mother is smiling. I don't remember the last time I saw her smile like that. Hopeful.

"I'm glad the internet was down," I say as we head over to the warehouse to consider the parking possibilities. " That librarian was amazing. And mom, I think he likes you."

She smiles again, "Do you think so?"

Caroline tapped at her laptop somewhat apathetically. The latest lead in the case she had been assigned was growing stale, and her report reflected her frustration. Yellow light from the streetlamp filtered through the dust covered blinds into the dark room where she made station. A third of a cigarette – Natural American, mind you, because she was health conscious you know – burned its gray trail onto the dinner plate by the keyboard. Upset and feeling heavy, she was ready to call it a night.

But the phone rang. Normally, when she would see her boss’s number pop up, she’d roll her eyes, silence it, and continue with whatever it was she was doing. Not tonight though. It might be important. She answered.

“Write this down.” Her boss ordered. “Detective Lee over in Twin Pines got an anonymous tip that seems like it might unpeel the killer’s manifesto a little more.”

Caroline straightened her spine as she drew open the drawers of her desk in search of a notepad. Admittedly, she wasn’t very hopeful, but she was curious.

“You know the line where he says something about ‘culling the flock to make way for the strong’ and whatever else? Well, that’s a line in a book published in 1830 which, by my source, also states the location of some witch-type ritual location.”

Caroline felt a twinge of freshness as he spoke. “You think the killer left some kind of evidence at this location?” She asked.

“Exactly!” He said. “But there’s a catch. This book, Flight of the Goodland Guard, is believed to be the only one remaining in the public domain, and the source says it may be at the Stieg Library in the locked and gated rare book section.”

With a deep sigh, she slumped back into her chair ran her hand through her hair. Many past investigations had already taken her to the Stieg Library with varying degrees of success, so she was already aquatinted with the library staff. She only knew of the gated rare books section as somewhat of a local legend, but she was aware that any librarian there would deny its existence to anyone of the public. For good reason too. Security was tight and there had to be a way to protect those precious scripts from being mishandled or lost.

“Well, that’s another dead end.” She said.

“No! It’s not.” Her boss replied. “Reviewing my notes, on a past case from the 90’s, I learned that there’s a password one can speak to the library staff which will allow you to access the gated rare book section.” He paused to let his words marinate in the mind of his unbelieving co-worker.

“Go on.” Caroline insisted, the ash from the cigarette in her mouth hanging precariously from its unburnt mount.

***

In the night, with rain pelting her helmet visor, Caroline rode her motorcycle across the lighted cityscape. Eventually, she came upon a magnificent marble-columned building with what she imagined were three stories of stairs leading to the entrance of this grand establishment. It was the Stieg Library.

Inside, she marveled at the beautiful cathedral-like central hall of the main area. Two levels of sky-high bookshelves lined either side of the hall and a vaulted ceiling of stone capped the silent room. A tall black-haired man greeted her. “Ma’am, do you know we’re closing soon? Are you aware of what time it is?”

“Yes.” She stated. “But I need access to the gated rare book section.”

His faced changed, then he cracked a smile. “I’m sorry but are you aware that the so-called ‘gated rare section’ doesn’t exist? Did you know that it’s simply a fun legend in the local area-“

“No!” She said louder. She pulled the folded and torn notepad from her jacket pocket, flipping to the last page she wrote on during her conversation with the boss. Cigarette ash blotted the page. The black-haired librarian cocked his head as she cleared her throat. “Everything you need for a better future and success has already been written.”

Long pause. Intense eye contact. He squinted first. It was the password.

“Would you mind following me this way please?” He asked.

After three descending flights of stairs and a walk down a long hallway, they arrived at a place which Caroline hadn’t expected. Instead of the locked wrought iron gate like she had pictured in her mind, the black-haired librarian slid a card key down a beautiful modern glass door to a wonderful brightly lit room. Stacks of leather-bound tomes lined tall oak shelves. The collection was nothing short of spectacular.

And after a brief search through the dusty books, she finally found it, ‘Flight of the Goodland Guard’. Rifling through the pages, she eventually found the passage in question.

“Aha!” She yelled.

----------------------

WC: 800

Small Things

​

Elred set the small girl down softly onto one of the dilapidated chairs within the expansive tomb. Through the thick coat of darkness, a few phantom shapes could be made out. Judging by their sharp angles and rectangular bodies, they were shelves of some sort.

​

"Why it so quiet in here?" the girl asked.

​

"I think this place has been empty a long time," Elred spoke softly, "and when all the people left, silence moved in."

​

She looked at him curiously, her mouth squirming into a strange expression. After a few moments she merely nodded, accepting this. Ever since Elred had collected her abandoned on the side of one of the roads outside the razed town of Verrdikt, she'd been a child of few words. It was hard to say if that was due to her limited knowledge of them, or the lack of appetite for them which the world had imparted unto her.

​

Elred pulled a small torch from his bag. Softly, flint and steel clicked together. For a few moments only that rhythm existed in the long vacant space. From the emptiness, eventually, came light. It was soft and orange, gently peeling back layers of the inky blackness.

​

What was uncovered were volumes upon volumes of scrolls. A lost collection of knowledge. They overflowed from shelves, often simply being deposited in unruly stacks across the ground.

​

"Why so many of the paper?" the child asked, now with a few fingers in her mouth.

​

"Well," Elred spoke contemplatively, "people used to write all the stuff they knew down. Stored it in places like this. They wanted to make things easier for people that came after them. Some people didn't like that, though. Thought that people had learned too much. Departed from the faith of the twenty divine - so they all got locked away. Forgotten."

​

"Like me forgotten?" she whispered.

​

Elred winced, his features soft under the gentle firelight.

​

"A bit. People often discard things, not knowing their worth."

​

Though he doubted she really got the nuance of the statement, the girl gently smiled with the far off look she often had.

​

"Will words tell us what to do? To make it good again?" she pawed at her cheek as she spoke, a strange look coming over her. Hesitantly, she asked a question that she'd voiced many times since joining Elred. "They tell me my word?"

​

Elred knew what she meant to ask - her word, anyways. She had never known her name. He began to leaf through the first of the shelves, getting a lay of the structure the scrolls had been formed into.

​

"Well, they say everything you need for a better future and success has already been written," Elred laughed lightly. "So maybe someone figured out how to make it all good again."

​

He doubted that was an easily achievable objective, regardless of the tombs harbored knowledge. Looking at the poor girl though, it didn't really seem like a time for nuanced opinions.

​

"And who knows? Each town did have a Yeuomen."

​

She cocked her head.

​

"Sorry - a writer of words. They kept track of things like births and dates. Collections of events."

​

Sadly, Elred knew their skills were probably very underestimated and largely underemployed in the times before the shattered reclamation.

​

She smiled a far off smile again, eyes not quite focusing.

​

"My word?"

​

"Yes," Elred returned her smile. "Your word."

​

Elred glanced through shelf after shelf. On the Topic of Cold Weather Fertility, The History and Significance of House Verneer, and Appropriate Methods of Long Term Storage for Perishables. All undoubtedly useful - but not the answers he sought out. He masked his frustration - the girl didn't need to see that.

​

"My word?" she probed, eyeing him as he worked.

​

"No, not yet I'm afraid," Elred sighed.

​

"I look?" she asked, placing one faintly damp finger on a scroll near her.

​

Elred paused, a thought striking him. He set down the scrolls in his hands and walked over. Perhaps this journey wouldn't be wasted after all. They'd need many to remember the forgotten knowledge - at least if they ever made it that far.

​

"Quite a good idea," he said, patting her gently on the back. "Do you see the squiggles? They are called 'letters.' This one here is 'V.'"

​

She furrowed her brow, pointing at the letter shown to her.

​

Elred pressed his front teeth against his lower lip. "Vuh - Vee. Like that."

​

She repeated the sound, clearly concentrating. "Vu- Vuh. Vee?" She looked upward, questioningly.

​

He smiled, nodding on encouragingly. So they went, squiggle by squiggle. Letter by letter. Word by word. Though this was not the knowledge Elred desperately sought, he took solace in that for today it would be enough.

​

Perhaps finding one word would make this worth it.

​

[WC: 795]

Day 137:

We were outside when the rain began. It felt like quarters were hitting our clothes and packs, each one connecting with flesh causing tiny welts.

The four store fronts we were next to did little to offer cover. The doors and windows were long boarded up, luck had it that the doors were built into the building providing alcoves that could fit us in groups.

Steven asked what we should do, he was being hit the most, barely fitting with his extra pack he carried for Marlene.

The world went white, lightning striking somewhere nearby.

Hector shouted pointing into the storm. Four white columns stood out in the dark between the twinkling rain.

When Steven asked how far, Marlene shouted too far. Jenny clung tighter to me as I turned to judge the distance.

It was far.

The sound of rain and leaves picked up as wind came blowing from the east.

I sheltered Jenny with my body the best I could with my face turned to the store to keep from begin hit. The world went white again.

In that flash I saw it. The thing that would help us get to the shelter that seemed so far away. Through the boards and passed the broken glass of the doorway was an umbrella hidden in the darkness.

The fabric tore as I pried it through the gap in the boards.

Marlene cried with joy as I pushed the button at the bottom and it unfurled above us.

Steven asked if it was big enough and it looked like it would work. In a tight ring we ran Hector leading us.

The umbrella didn’t last, halfway there the rain broke through the fabric. We picked up our pace. Steven screamed into the storm asking God why over and over again. Jenny and Marlene slipped up the steps as we ascended towards the pillars.

Hector stopped once he reached cover, but Jenny slipped once more. When I bent to grab her Marlene and Steven barreled into us. We all hit the wall of the building and crumbled into a pile of bodies and bags.

Jenny stared in wonder at the roof soaring high above us. Steven muttered to himself asking what this place was and what are the odds on the doors will opening. I tugged my hand into my sleeve and wiped hard at dirt encrusted onto a sign at the door.

‘Ravenhold Public Library’

Hector tried the door handles, they didn’t give. Marlene tried a smaller one with an ornate green knocker and the door opened inward.

Steven asked who would go first, Marlene pushed him in, the rest of us following after.

Another step took us into a round room with a vaulted dome ceiling. Painted stars dance across it drawing sighs from all of us.

How long, Steven asked. We all knew what he meant. How long since any of us had seen stars.

Jenny stepped into the center of the room, her pack tumbling down her tufted skirt. She had never seen stars. She had never seen a lot of things. She never would.

Steven slung her pack over his shoulder as Marlene took Jennys hand promising to show her more stars and more in the books they’d find for her as the three of them made their way through the stacks towards the children’s section.

Hector wandered off saying he’d take first watch. I turned, walking the opposite way of everyone else.

Dust stirred as I trailed my fingers beside me against the spines tucked neatly in place.

I made my nest amongst the ‘Historical Ravenhold Founders’ collection in a room with windows I can watch the roads from, and exits I could easily escape through if needed.

I found a portrait of a woman with short hair in a hooded robe. The case beneath it held seven lumps with multiple sides covered in the thinnest amount of dust. The placard beside the painting read:

‘Everything you need for a better future and success has already been written. - Thunder’

I wonder if she is right.

Will we find answers in this place?

Or is it…

In the days I’ve already written?

##Library of Caligula

The stone doors which have held for thousands of years are blown open by a small stick of dynamite. The silent atmosphere that the scrolls grew to love is destroyed. Light pierces the darkness as three men enter the room with gas lamps.

“Unbelievable, I can’t believe you were right.” Lionel admires a nearby statue of a horse. “I never heard of the Library of Caligula when I met you.”

“You aren’t alone.” Otis is fiercely taking notes. “I was laughed out of the academic community for proposing such a thing. They laughed harder when I said it was in the Faroe Islands.”

“But what is here exactly?” Elmer asks. Stacks of scrolls stretch for three-hundred meters. The stacks are divided by a walkway in the middle with gold trimmings and tables spaced between five stacks. The stacks are four shelves high and ten shelves deep. Each shelf contains twenty scrolls.

“Let’s see.” Lionel grabs a scroll and opens it on the table. Nick walks next to him. His mouth opens.

“Unbelievable. This is an early description of a steam engine,” Nick says.

“And how do you know that?” Elmer puts his hands on his hips.

“I worked as a mechanic. Being regarded as a fraud doesn’t pay the bills.”

“Nonsense.” Lionel slaps Nick’s shoulder. “Frauds are the basis of our society. Their skills are probably very underestimated and largely underemployed.”

“Uh, thanks.” Nick pauses to process the back-handed compliment.

“If the Romans knew how to make a steam engine, why didn’t they do it?”

“That’s outside my expertise. The academic community largely accepts that such a device was discussed theoretically at the time, but-”

“Ah, so you’re saying it’s not shocking. Let’s see what else is here.” Lionel grabs another scroll and opens it. All three of them are shocked by what’s on the page.

“Is that really a car?” Elmer asks.

“It would appear to be the body of one.” Nick puts his paper down.

“That’s the engine of one.” Lionel points in the corner.

“There’s no way this would’ve been known in Caligula’s time,” Nick says.

“Well, I suppose everything you need for a better future and success has already been written.” Lionel walks away from the table. “Let’s see what else we can find here.”

The three men walk throughout the collection with their lamps in hand. Throughout the shelves, they find inventions that had only recently been invented such as radio and airplanes. Devices from the future are also present such as a phone that lacks a chord and a small movie player. Other scrolls contain maps of the world with borders throughout history. One lists the family tree of the Hapsburg family up to Archduke Franz Ferdinand with a note on his assassination.

“Why is all this modern knowledge in an ancient library?” Elmer puts down a scroll on the War of Spanish Succession.

“I don’t know. None of this makes sense,” Nick replies.

“Is this a prank?” Lionel pulls out a knife and stabs the shelf by Nick.

“What?” “Did you and your university pals just want to humiliate this old treasure hunter?” Lionel removes the knife and stomps towards Nick.

“There has to be an explanation.” Nick pulls out a scroll. A loud scraping noise echoes throughout the building. The three men leave the stack. At the end of the walkway, a silver orb sits in an alcove.

“Now what is that?” Elmer asks.

“It’s the Orb of Germanicus. They dismissed me as a fraud for that too.” Nick falls to the floor laughing.

“Now what’s gotten into you?” Elmer shakes his head.

“I theorized that Germanicus found it in Belgica and gave it to his son. Caligula’s so-called insanity was the result of that orb,” Nick says.

“That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.” Lionel replies.

“Come on. Haven’t you noticed that Elmer is only speaking in questions?” Elmer asks.

“He’s always been inquisitive. This is crossing the line into the unrealistic.” Lionel kicks Nick’s laughing body. “And stop giggling you twit.”

“I can’t stop. Everything is so funny. Like the shut doors.” At that statement, Lionel looks up. The doors that they destroyed have returned; the rubble has cleared. Snow is no longer infiltrating the library.

“No, it can’t be.” Lionel runs to the doors and pushes.

“They’re locked. Caligula knew how powerful this knowledge would be and ensured that it could never be exposed to the outside world,” Nick says.

“And how do you know that?” Elmer asks. Nick holds out the scroll he took. Three men are drawn in the library. Underneath the drawing is one word. Mortuus.

---

r/AstroRideWrites

The scream echoed through the old manor. I and four other guests rushed towards the sound. In the library we find Sarah Mitchell, another guest at the party, standing over the battered and bloody body of Mr. Wall. An ambulance and the cops were called ASAP.

After Mr. Wall had been taken off to the hospital, a detective cleared out the party except for the six of us. When he returned to the library, Bobby Denvers rose from his seat.

(Bobby) “Detective, what is the meaning of this?”

(Detective) “We’ll Mr. Denvers, we talked to some of the guests, and out of a crowd of four hundred plus, only five people were said to even go near this library during Mr. Walls' party. You five, plus Ms. Mitchell who found the body.”

From my seat, I interjected into the conversation.

(Gary) “I can assure you I’m at least innocent. I just lost looking for the restroom.”

Another guest, Sam Copper, stood next.

(Sam) “The same thing happened to me.”

(Kat Stevenson) “Well someone’s looking mighty guilty right now…”

(Sam) “Oh really? What were you doing in this library then Ms. Stevenson.”

(Kat) “The butler…”

(Detective) “Ahem! From now on I’ll be the only one asking the questions. Now we have six suspects, an injured man, no weapon or motive. So Mr. Denvers we’ll start with you, what’s your relationship with Mr. Wall?”

(Bobby) “I was one of his former students. I consider the man my mentor and the biggest reason for my company’s success. Without him, I’d probably be some schlub with a nine-to-five that I hated. I wouldn’t hurt that man for all the riches anyone could offer me.”

(Detective) “Noted…Ms. Stevenson?”

(Kat) “Detective if you were throwing a party for the upper class of society wouldn’t you want the hottest actress in the world to attend?”

(Detective) “So you’re just a publicity tool?”

(Kat) “If you want to be crude about it I guess.”

(Detective) “Ok, Ms. Nico Eden. You’ve been pretty quiet, how do you know Mr. Wall?”

(Nico) “Through my mother…”

(Detective) “Ok, how does your mother know Mr. Wall? Were they friends? Co-workers? Lovers?”

(Nico) “She's an accountant, she handled Mr. Walls' taxes.”

(Gary) “How close were they? Maybe she knew where he hid his money.”

(Nico) “You’ve been awfully vocal for someone that was just looking for the bathroom…”

(Detective) “Decorum, please. Mr. Pine since you want to talk, how do you know Mr. Wall?”

(Gary) “I don’t detective. I crashed this shindig. No particular reason honestly, I was just bored.”

The others began to murmur to themselves. I just shrug and turn to Sam.

(Sam) “I’ll spare you the time detective. Mr. Wall crippled my dad. My dad sold cars and Mr. Wall came in asking to test drive a vehicle. My dad agreed and per company policy joined him on the test ride…out of nowhere Mr. Wall began to drive faster and faster, until he lost control of the vehicle and careened into the woods. My dad was paralyzed and that bastard has never paid for his crime. We struggle every day because of that old bastard.”

(Detective) “Wow, sounds like a pretty good motive to assault someone wouldn’t you say, Mr. Cooper?”

(Sam) “Trust me, detective, if I attacked Mr. Wall I wouldn’t hide it.

(Detective) “Right, Ms. Mitchell that leaves you.”

(Sarah) “Mr. Walls my stepdad. My mom was his third wife.”

(Detective) “His second longest marriage correct?”

(Sarah) “Mhm, he basically raised me. He and my mom are still on good terms though. I actually planned this whole party except for the incident in question.”

(Kat) “Well, I certainly think we’ve found our top suspects detective. A bored degenerate, a son seeking revenge, and a step-daughter who would know all kinds of secrets and hidden treasures.”

(Gary) “You call me a degenerate but I wasn’t the one fucking a staff member in here you tramp.”

(Sarah) “Yeah, I’d never hurt Charles, like I said he’s the only father I’ve ever known. I owe everything to him.”

(Bobby) “Nico, Sam you two are suspiciously silent.”

(Sam) “I told you already, if I did it everyone would know about it.”

The detective opens his mouth to speak but his train of thought is interrupted by a book falling from the shelf. It shocks us all and quiets the entire room. The tense atmosphere is practically suffocating. The detective goes over to the fallen book. He picks it up and tries to open it only to find it glued shut…

(Sarah) “And cut! Good work everyone! A few more rehearsals and maybe a couple of tweaks to the script and we’ll be ready for the school's Halloween dance.”

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

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