2016 – Day 50

Start writing a story that...

Step 1: has a character who: lives in a library

Step 2: include a dialogue that begins with: Don't make a sound!

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Skinner Public Library closed at 8:00 p.m. on weeknights and 6:00 p.m. on weekends. The librarians took another 15–30 minutes to wrap up their work and the custodians came and went within an hour. Woody could tell when the last person had gone for the night by the sound of the locks. Then he could come out to read.

On Monday night, after he heard the main door bolt click, Woody walked soft-footed down the stairs from the research stacks on the second floor. He was anxious to get back to his book while the evening safety lights were on, providing just enough illumination for comfortable reading. By midnight, the library's lighting system was programmed to shift to a nighttime setting, which left only the exit signs lit. As long as he had his dinner in hand before the lights went out, he could eat in the darkness. But he couldn't read.

Woody's favorite section was historical fiction in the green reading room. He had already read many of the classics, like Hugo and Dumas, and was now working his way through 20th century authors. As he approached the shelf, he held his breath until he finally located Wolf Hall. He never knew when all copies of a book that he was reading might get checked out, forcing him to wait a week or two. He took the copy off the shelf and settled into the armchair to read.

After some time, he felt his stomach rumble and knew he had waited long enough to eat. He returned the book to the shelf and made his way to the back room where staff kept their things. He looked through the fridge first then the cabinets, taking small portions that wouldn't be noticed. Three Cheez-Its, an Oreo, a cheese slice, a bread slice, and four grapes would make a decent dinner for the night. Woody closed everything up and headed back to the main room.

"Don't make a sound! Hands up!"

A glaring light flashed into Woody's face, causing him to drop his dinner and throw his hands across his eyes.

"Hands up!"

Woody thrust his arms high into the air, keeping his eyes closed against the light. After what seemed like minutes, Woody felt the focus of the light lower to his chest and he opened his eyes. Facing him stood a police officer with a gun in one hand and a flashlight in the other. The officer stared back at Woody, his eyes squinting into the light.

"Who are you?" the officer said. "What are you doing here?"

"Woody Mesner, sir," Woody said, then considered how to explain the rest. "I, uh, live here."

"Live here?" The officer didn't lower his gun, but he lowered the flashlight further so they could both see better. "What do you mean you live here?"

"I just read the books. I don't harm anything."

"Does anyone know you're here?"

"I don't think so, though sometimes I think some of the librarians have guessed."

"What makes you say that?"

"Some of the snacks seem to never get eaten except by me. And then when they're nearly finished, someone replaces them with new ones. And I've found books that were perfect for me set out on the main table. I think someone may have left them out for me."

The officer stared at Woody then lowered his gun.

"How long have you lived here," he asked.

"Nearly a year."

"Woody, you can't stay at the library. Don't you have any other place to go?"

"Not really," Woody said, shrugging his shoulders and venturing a smile. "It's nice here."

The officer shook his head and paced a few steps in either direction. He stopped and stood with arms akimbo,

"I'll let you go if you leave now," he said. "But I'll have to arrest you if you don't."

Woody let the information sink in. He looked over his shoulder at the historical fiction books, so many of which he had yet to read, and then he looked up the main stairs at the research stacks that hid a small door to a tiny room where he slept. He sighed at the realization of how hard his life was about to become.

"I can't," he said. "I can't go."