I was on my way to the library, like always on a friday afternoon. It was cloudy and cold. Rain and wind whipped at my glasses as I tried to to avoid the puddles scattering the sidewalk. It had been raining for ages, and it was easy to tell by the wet, dirt like scent that seemingly never left the air . Soon the large brick building loomed above me, a dark mass set against the lightning blue sky. I pushed open the squeaky double doors, and wiped my feet on the mat, grinning as I remembered what had happened when I had forgotten to in the past.
When I walked into the warm and welcoming library, the aroma of dusty books and wood surrounded me. I felt at home.
I waved to Mrs. Jones, the librarian who always greets me when I come. She’s always here. I wonder if she ever leaves.
I head down the stairs to my favorite section of the library. Skipping the last 4 steps in my usual fashion, and reaching the bottom of the stairs as quickly as possible, acting as if I was being chased. I can almost hear my Mom laugh, and say; “One of these days, you’re going to hurt yourself, and you’ll be sorry.”
As I headed over to to the shelves overflowing with books, something caught my eye. In the midst of all the bright and colorful, welcoming book covers, there was one quite the opposite, like a lone dark cloud on a sunny day. It was black, with no writing on the spine. For some eerie reason, it jumped out at me. For a moment I felt threatened by its presence. Why was it here, interrupting this joyful room? It was so out of place. I walked over to where the book was tucked neatly on a shelf, tracing my fingers across the smooth book spines as I walked. My hand stretched toward the dark book, it felt rough and bumpy, reminding me of a road that desperately needed paving. I studied the front cover of the book, no title, no author, just a jet black mystery. My curiosity was filled to the brim - what is this book? And why am I seemingly the only one to notice it?
The adventure began, when I opened the book, and a tiny note fell out.