Post by A.D.Madigan on Apr 4, 2011 19:56:03 GMT -5
Amara walked along the second floor of the library, running her finger tips along both the rail and the ends of the book shelves. Quietly she hummed to herself as she let her arms fall back to her sides and swing as she practically dance along the floor. The first day of sun had put a bright spring in her step. So much so in fact she just couldn't stay at the hospital today. Thus she blew off her special rounds for the day like all of the patients had been telling her she should do. She was too young and healthy a spirit to be locked up in that place with them, she was always the light in their days they said. Well then tomorrow she would have a new story to bring them and a book to go with it.
The whole place was quiet in that whispered peace libraries have as she made her way to the back corner of the second story of Grey Manor Library. Back to the Classics she travled, farther and farther back into history and deeper and deeper into the dust. As well as the core of what made humanity. Atleast that's how this educated woman thought of it. Once she found her favorite section she went about the task of gathering a number of the leather clad volumes. Her pile held both stories she knew by heart, word for ancient word, and new tales to fall in love with.
Little Ms. Madigan finally fell back into the perfect chair by the sunny glow of a open window and soon found herself lost in tales of the past and swooning over the heros of Greece. If only, if only, the woodpecker sighs. The bark on the trees was as soft as the skies. As the wolf waits below, hungry and lonely. He cries to the moon, If only, if only. Her mother's gently voice sang through her mind and woke her enough from the story in her hands for her to notice how late it had gotten.
The sun was already begining to set as she walked along the street with her pile of books from the library bumping against her hip. Setting off for home again.
The whole place was quiet in that whispered peace libraries have as she made her way to the back corner of the second story of Grey Manor Library. Back to the Classics she travled, farther and farther back into history and deeper and deeper into the dust. As well as the core of what made humanity. Atleast that's how this educated woman thought of it. Once she found her favorite section she went about the task of gathering a number of the leather clad volumes. Her pile held both stories she knew by heart, word for ancient word, and new tales to fall in love with.
Little Ms. Madigan finally fell back into the perfect chair by the sunny glow of a open window and soon found herself lost in tales of the past and swooning over the heros of Greece. If only, if only, the woodpecker sighs. The bark on the trees was as soft as the skies. As the wolf waits below, hungry and lonely. He cries to the moon, If only, if only. Her mother's gently voice sang through her mind and woke her enough from the story in her hands for her to notice how late it had gotten.
The sun was already begining to set as she walked along the street with her pile of books from the library bumping against her hip. Setting off for home again.
