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The Librarian’s Code, Part 2

06 Friday Nov 2015

Posted by lexilogical in NaNoWriMo, The Librarian's Code

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Creative Writing, fae, fantasy, fiction, Librarian

“Mark, it can’t be the fae,” I argued, despite myself. “We’d have seen more. It would have been obvious earlier.”

Mark just shrugged. “Rach, half the bookshelf is missing and there aren’t that many creatures that are that sneaky.”

“Not that sneaky?” I asked, “Have you read Witchcraft and Brooms? Hobgoblins and Gnomes? Creatures of Smoke?”

“Gnomes and Hobgoblins are still fae, Rachael. In fact, every book on the fae is missing.”

I sighed. If he was right, then we were in trouble. The fae were tricky things and their goals were rarely obvious. If he was wrong… Then the book was probably missing off the shelf already, and I’d forgotten what it contained.

“Where is Amber now?” I demanded. Mark pointed out of the room.

“She was hiding in the bathroom last I checked. She may have been persuaded to come out by now, but you scared her pretty badly.”

“I am not evil,” I grumbled, “Come on, we need to go talk to her.”

“And ask what? ‘Hey Amber, are you under a glamour?’”

“Well, we need to ask her something!” I said, striding between the rows. “We need to get those books back and it’s not happening staring around at the empty shelves.”

“Maybe we should get Kelcie then,” Mark said. He was struggling to keep up with my long legs, but I didn’t bother to slow down for him. “She is the expert on glamours.”

“Kelcie has been out all month with a broken arm,” I said. Not that I couldn’t still call her in. If Mark was right about all this I’d probably need to. I hoped it wouldn’t come to that though.

Mark bit his lip. “Could that be relevant? Maybe the fae specifically went out to disable our glamour specialist before they-”

“She was walking the dog,” I cut in. “Come on, we can’t afford to go assuming every coincidence is a plot.”

“If we’re dealing with the fae,” Mark said, “we can’t afford not to.”

I gave him a dirty look before pushing open the bathroom door.

Amber jumped to her feet as soon as I walked in, wiping at her face with a scrap of kleenex. “Hi Rachael, Mark,” she stammered.

“Amber, I need to ask you some quick questions,” I said, a little too forcefully. Mark punched me lightly in the arm but Amber just nodded.

“Question one. What is this book?”

I held up the red leather book that I hadn’t even bothered to reshelve. Amber licked her lips nervously as she looked at it.

“It’s one of the books in the section 11. It’s on loan from the Falconer family and should not be lent out,” she recited. I recognized my own words from earlier in the day. Had I really scared her that much?

“Well, good,” I muttered. “Question two. What did you think it was when you lent it out?”

Amber mumbled something under her breath.

“What was that?” I asked. Amber didn’t speak up any louder the second time. I sighed loudly only to get punched even harder by Mark. “What?” I snapped.

“No wonder everyone is claiming you’re salty these days,” Mark said. I glowered at him but leaned back into the wall.

“Fine, your turn then.” He put out his hand for the book and I passed it over, crossing my arms.

“Amber, we aren’t angry with you,” Mark began. Amber gave me a hesitant glance out of the corner of her eye and Mark sighed in frustration. “Rachael isn’t mad-”

“Yes she is,” I interjected, netting myself a dirty look from Mark.

“-Rachael isn’t mad, she’s just worried,” he continued, still meeting my eyes. “And taking it out on you, I might add.”

I frowned, breaking the gaze first.

Mark continued on. “She just needs to hear what you thought this books was when you lent it out.”

Amber’s lower lip quivered slightly as she spoke, making her words wobble in the middle. “I thought it was a book of fairy tales.”

“But why would you think that?” I blurted out. “We just went through the training! How did they even get the book out of the restricted section?”

Amber burst out into tears again as Mark glowered at me. I looked away, trying to burn a hole in the corner of the bathroom.

“She does raise some valid points though, Amber,” Mark said diplomatically. “Your initiation training was two days before you checked this out. Did you not recognize the book? How did you even check it out?”

Amber’s voice wavered. “I don’t know. I remember someone asking me for one of the books in the back and he pointed through the gate and described it. And I remember thinking how odd it was that we had childrens’ books back there. So I went back and grabbed it.”

“How did you check it out?” Mark pushed. Amber shook her head.

“I don’t remember.”

“Do you remember what the person looked like?” He asked. Amber just shook her head again. “Was he wearing anything distinctive? Interesting piece of jewelry, a funny t-shirt? A suit?”

Amber almost shook her head again, then paused. “He had a brooch in the shape of a stylized leaf.”

“Could you draw it?” Mark asked. When Amber nodded he grabbed a paper towel off the wall, passing it towards her with a pen. Amber quickly doodled the shape onto the towels. I leaned over to look at it as she drew. It was a oak leaf, I was pretty sure, despite her shaky hand. It wasn’t the most artistic leaf I had ever seen, but it was obvious enough. Over it she crossed it with a sketchily drawn feather. I didn’t recognize the symbol off hand, but I was sure it had been in one of the books. That book was now likely missing. Mark’s paranoia was already wearing off on me.

It’s only paranoia if he’s wrong. I reminded myself, seeing the image Amber had drawn. Mark’s lips pursed as he inspected the paper towel that she handed him.

“This is all you remember?” he asked. Amber nodded. Mark passed the paper towel to me and I folded it carefully. “Do you at least remember how you checked it out?”

“No,” she said, rubbing her eyes and nose with her cuff. “I didn’t even remember I’d done it until it came back in. And I didn’t remember why it was a big deal until Rachael yelled at me.”

“I didn’t yell,” I muttered, looking at the paper towel so I wouldn’t have to see Mark’s disapproval. I could still feel it in my peripheral vision though.

“And then what happened?” Mark asked, still glowering.

“I finally looked at the book and realized what it was,” Amber said. “I did listen in the training, Rachael.”

I hurrumphed at the girl, neither approving nor disapproving.

“Sort of like you were purposefully ignoring it before and it suddenly came into focus?” Mark asked.

“Yeah,” she replied.

Mark sighed. “We need to call in Kelcie, Rachael.”

I nodded in agreement.

“One last question, Amber,” I said. She looked at me expectantly. “Were there any other books missing when you grabbed this one.”

Amber’s hand flew to her mouth. “Yes… Plenty.”

I sighed, thrusting the paper towel into my pocket. “Stop looking at me like that, Mark. You know I hate when you’re right.”

The Librarian’s Code, Part 1

03 Tuesday Nov 2015

Posted by lexilogical in NaNoWriMo, The Librarian's Code

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Tags

books, fiction, Librarian, NaNoWriMo

Well, I’ve been slacking off on my blog a lot lately because I’ve been working on a book.  However, I hit publish on that book a few hours ago and am now waiting for Amazon to approve in.  In the mean time, NaNoWriMo started three days ago, and I’m using that as a chance to push myself back into writing new stuff.  So with that in mind, here’s the first part of my NaNoWriMo project.


“Why is this book in the return pile?” I asked, pulling the red book out of the stack of dystopian teen fiction that sat on the checkout counter.

Amber looked at me in confusion. “Probably because someone borrowed it, Rach.”

“They borrowed this book, Amber?” I insisted, holding it up so she could see it clearly. Unlike most of the library, filled with dog-eared paperbacks, this book was unique. The thick stack of papers were hand bound in blood red leather, hand-tooled with runes and symbols. A red ribbon wrapped around the book several times, binding it shut as if opening it would release something evil.

“Yeah, last week. Why?” Amber asked, barely glancing over. Her eyes seemed to slide off the book like it wasn’t important. I frowned at her. Amber was normally a sharp one.

“Amber, look at me for a moment,” I said, catching her eye. “Are you trying to tell me that you loaned out Birds of Fire?”

“We’re a library, Rachael,” Amber said, sounding exasperated. “Loaning out books is what we-ohhhh.”

Her eyes suddenly went wide, staring at the red book. One of her hands went to her mouth and I raised my eyebrows at her.

“Now you see my issue?” I asked, though it was obvious she’d finally noticed her error. Birds of Fire was specifically not meant to be loaned out, as Amber should have known. Most of our books were meant to teach or provide an escape. But this one was more than just that. There were secrets in the covers. Secrets we were bound to protect.

“I… yeah,” Amber stuttered, looking at the ground. I sighed at her, crossing my arms. Amber was new to our library, and I’d had my doubts about her from the get go. The rest of the staff had told me I was over-reacting, but now I was beginning to wonder.

“Do I need to explain this to you again?” I said sternly. “The books in the section 11 are all restricted to the general public. They’re here on loan from the Falconer family, and are all one-of-a-kind books. We do not lend these out.”

“Y-Yes Ma’am,” she said. Her voice quivered as she spoke, and I could see she was on the edge of tears. I glowered at her a moment longer, hoping to drive the message home. Amber tried to meet my eyes, but one stray tear spilled over her cheek. She hastily wiped it away.

“It won’t happen again,” she whispered before turning around and practically running for the bathroom. I sighed, sitting down behind the desk to process the rest of the returns.

I’d checked in half of the stack when Mark appeared out of the racks, leaning over the counter.

“I hear you’re terrorizing the new girl again,” he said. His words sounded playful, but I could hear the scolding edge all the same. I grunted at him. I probably deserved it for driving her to tears. And yet…

I slid the red leather book out from the beside the computer so he could see it, and he let out a low whistle.

“That’s the book she lent out?” he asked. I nodded and he frowned. “No wonder you’re mad.”

“Glad you’re caught up,” I said gruffly. “I can’t even figure out how she checked it out, this book has no code or slip.”

“I’m a little more concerned about why she loaned it out,” Mark said, and something in his words made my blood run a little cold. I looked up at him curiously.

“She said she thought it was just a book of fairy tales,” he said.

“She what?” I raged. “Mark, she just finished her initiation last week! Do you think she was making excuses, or is she just that stupid?”

“Rachael, I know you dislike her, but I don’t think it was either.” Mark was frowning.

“Oh come on, don’t try to protect her,” I said. “Either she’s dumb or she’s unreliable and either way I’m close to firing her now.”

“Rachael, our initiation process is pretty intense. You can’t really cheat your way through it.”

“So then she’s making excuses,” I said, standing up and grabbing the thick leather book. “Come on, let’s go put this back.”

“Maybe you should go talk to her before you make any decisions,” he said, falling into step behind me. “I ran her tests myself and she was on point the whole time. I can’t believe she’d mess that up so quickly.”

“Well she obviously did,” I said, unlocking the door to the private collections. Mark was right behind me. “You know this as well as I do, Mark, this isn’t something we can easily forgive.”

“I understand that but-” Mark cut off as we reached the final shelf, staring down the aisle.

I quickened my step slightly behind him. “But wha- Whoa!”

I stared at the row where the book belonged. What should have been rows upon rows of rainbow-coloured leather books had been gutted. Half the shelf was empty with unsightly gaps between the green and blue books. The entire yellow section was missing, and the book in my hand was only one of the slots in the reds. Overall, at least half of the books were missing.

“I am going to kill her,” I whispered.

Mark shook his head. “I think we have a bigger problem, Rach.”

“If you mean how we’re going to get these back…” I began, but he was cutting me off.

“Amber has only been on the checkout once since she finished her initiation,” he said. “Do you really think she could have messed up this many times in one day?”

I looked at the gutted shelf again. I was angry enough to argue with him, because the only other option was scarier.

“Rachael, I think we’re dealing with a fae.”

A Cup of Tea

06 Friday Feb 2015

Posted by lexilogical in Stories

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fiction, Story, tea

It was a typical Tuesday afternoon for Patrice Pristine. She had just finished filing her boss’s expense report for the last month and was setting up his 9 AM meeting when he unexpected burst out of his office.

“Ahhh, Patrice, what are you doing here still?” he asked, looking startled to see her. Patrice looked at him over her horn-rimmed glasses.

“I’m always here at this tme, Mr Hiedeman. It’s only 2 PM,” she replied.

Mr Hiedeman looked uncomfortable. “Oh, I see HR hasn’t told you yet…”

“Told me what?” she asked. An uneasy knot was beginning to form in the pit of her stomach, but she swallowed it down. Mr Hiedeman looked even more uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t be the one to tell you,” he said haltingly.

“Tell me what?” She could really feel the dread now, right down to the tips of her perfectly manicured fingernails, still posed over his calendar.

Her boss adjusted his tie as if it was choking him. “Well, you see, it’s just that the company is… Well, downsizing, in a way.”

“Downsizing,” she said as if she was in a dream.

“Yes,” he latched onto that word as if he were a drowning man clinging to a lifejacket. “Downsizing. And I’ve just gotten word that they’ve decided your salary is… Well, too high really. We just can’t afford it anymore.”

“My salary… Is being cut?” she asked. It had never been much anyways, but her living expenses were small. It might mean a few sacrifices, one less manicure here, a bag of looseleaf tea less there. But Mr. Heideman didn’t seem less uncomfortable.

“Oh no, no. We couldn’t do that to you, you’ve been such an asset to the company. We decided it would be an insult to pay you less than what you clearly deserve,” he stammered.

“But…” she said, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“They’ve decided to terminate your contract,” he said with finality. “They hired a new girl, straight out of college, she barely expected a pittiance…”

Mr Heideman went on but Miss Pristine barely heard him. She looked about her desk that she’d sat at for the past 20 years. It was covered in small knick knacks and curios she’d collected over the years. And soon it would all be in a box in her apartment. Her eyes fell onto a blue mug beside her monitor. It was empty now, she’d finished the bag of tea she kept in her desk.

She stood up suddenly and Mr Heideman stopped his rambling. “Are you alright, Patrice?”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes I am… If you’ll excuse me, I think I need a cup of tea.”

She picked up the mug, then glanced at the rest of her desk. “I’ll be back for my things tomorrow,” she said, turning to head for the elevator.

She was out of the building and breathing in the crisp spring air before she realized she’d forgotten her jacket. Standing there with nothing but her blue mug, she considered her options. Head back in now like an idiot or go home for the rich cup of Earl Grey she knew was sitting in her kitchen. It only took her a moment to decide on an option.

Her sensible heels made a distinctive sound as they clipped their way through the company parking lot. It wasn’t until she was standing beside her steel blue car when she realized her keys were in her purse… Which was still sitting with her coat at her desk. She almost turned back then but an insidious thought crossed her mind. That was no longer her desk. That was the new girl’s desk, Miss I’m-Younger-And-Probably-Prettier-Than-You-And-I’ll-Whore-Myself-Out-For-A-Pay-Cheque’s desk. She clenched the mug tighter and clip-clopped all the way out of the parking lot. She could walk.

The city streets were still slushy under her heels as she began her walk home. The old homeless man on the street gave her a wave as she passed.

“Hey Miss, got some spare change?” he asked, smiling at her with his broken smile.

“No,” she replied as she walked by, “I’m just going home for a cup of tea.”

Her heart did a flutter as she walked past a bus stop. Surely that could get her home quicker. But her brain quickly reminded her that her bus pass and spare change was also still in the office, beside her old boss. She stomped on past the bus stop.

“Hey Miss, do you need a pass?” yelled a young hipster waiting at the stop.

“No thank you,” she said, “I just need a cup of tea.”

As she approached King street, she noticed an orange barricade across the street. Perhaps some construction or something was going on. She vaguely recalled hearing news about King Street being shut down but that was ridiculous, they couldn’t shut down the whole street. She breezed past at man in a uniform making gestures at her.

“Ma’am, this road is closed for the parade!” the officer said.

“It’s alright. I’m just going home for a cup of tea,” she replied, dancing past the barricade and onto the empty street.

One right-hand turn away, she noticed the same barricades along Queen street. Now that was outright absurd, you can’t shut down two major city roads. It was as absurd as firing a loyal employee to hire some fresh college bimbo. She stormed past that barricade too, blind to the people around her.

“Hey Miss, would you like to ride on our float? Our Miss Springtime Faerie Queen had to bail!” shouted a man dressed in green and pink sequins.

“No thank you,” replied Patrice Pristine. “I’m just going home for some tea.”

When Patrice saw the familiar sign for her road, she let out a great sigh of relief. She was almost home, and just minutes away from her cup of tea. She set off with purpose down her quaint little road, waving at the Johnson’s house as she walked. Just footsteps from her front door, Mira Johnson ran up to her wearing a full chainmail tunic.

“Patrice, thank god you’re home! A dragon kidnapped Geoff and I didn’t know who else to turn to!” She held out a longsword with a massive ruby set in the hilt. “Will you please help me rescue him?”

“Not today,” Patrice said, “Right now, I just want a cup of tea.”

The blue mug made a satisfying clunk as Patrice set about boiling some water. She heard a knock at the door as she filled her infuser, but decided not to answer. She’d had enough shocks for today, she thought, finally relaxing while the mug of tea steeped.

“I guess she’s not home,” said the TV host standing on her doorstep. He turned to the TV crew and handed his over-sized cheque for 34 million dollars to his assistant. “Come on, let’s go check on her neighbours.”


Originally posted on reddit at /r/WritingPrompts

The Lake

26 Tuesday Aug 2014

Posted by lexilogical in Odds and Ends, Stories

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Tags

Creative Writing, fiction

“You dropped the soap? What do you mean you dropped the soap?”

She floated in the lake water as she asked the question, her perfectly level head at odds with the long white legs and arms treading beneath surface of the water. I shrugged sheepishly from the over-inflated toy.

“It just shot out of my hands! I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting it to be so slippery!”

“Well of course it’s slippery! It’s a bar of soap! What were you expecting?”

“Alright, alright, I get it.” I said, my cheeks heating up. “So now what?”

She shrugged, the water making an odd ripple as her legs and arms continued to churn. “We get another bar of soap, I guess. The lake is 25 feet deep, it’s long gone.”

“All the way up the hill?”

“Well, you dropped it,” she said, sticking out her tongue. “Only fair.”

“I have a better idea.” I pushed myself up onto the floatable and out of the cold lake waters.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” I lay back just as the sun poked out from behind the clouds, beaming down rays of warmth to chase away the chill. “Let’s just swim. You can take a shower later.”

A sharp splash in the water and a spray of cold water droplets answered my question. Oh well, can’t win them all.

Nightfall

22 Friday Aug 2014

Posted by lexilogical in Stories, water

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Tags

Creative Writing, elements, fantasy, fiction

The monster would come at nightfall, they told her. At the moment when the sun just touched the ocean outside, and the horizon turned green. It wouldn’t be long now, Katrina knew. The sun filtered into the observatory at a harsh angle, barely a hand’s width away from the edge of the water and turning her hair as red as the dress they’d put her in. Not much longer now.

The flat stone floor was still wet from the morning’s high waves, but she ignored it, sinking to her knees as the cold seeped through the thin dress. Bowing her head, she started to pray.

Not to the old gods, they’d already failed. Praying to them had been the first thing her people had tried, and look where it had brought them. To the point of human sacrifices every new moon. No, they would get no more prayers from her, and no more tears.

To new gods then. To gods who would bring back the happiness and joy. To gods that would stop the drought, stop the fires and bring back the rains. To gods who would reassure her parents that her death wasn’t in vain, reassure her sisters that they wouldn’t be next. And maybe, just maybe, gods that would save her. She was so deep in prayer she barely noticed the sun slipping past the edge of the world, or the darkness that engulfed her.

The footsteps on the stone steps however, those broke her out of her trance. She whipped around to see a young man climbing the steps to the room, silhouetted against the dying light of the sunset.

“You aren’t a monster,” she blurted out before quickly covering her mouth with her hand. The man chuckled as he approached.

“Are you certain about that?” he asked as he reached the top step. It was then that she noticed his long, scaled tail as it flicked over the steps, wrapping around one of the pillars. She lowered her hand in horror.

“What are you?” She whispered. The man just laughed more as he crossed the floor towards her, holding out a hand towards her. She placed her hand in his and he pulled her to her feet.

“I suppose,” he said as he guided her towards the ocean, “You could say I’m a new god, looking to find a disciple.”

One Last Flower

16 Friday May 2014

Posted by lexilogical in Stories, Will & Dia

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Tags

Dia, fiction, funeral, ghosts, Story, Will, Will & Dia

“Do you want to come to the funeral?” Dia asked quietly. Will bit the inside of his lip. He and Dia had only been dating a few weeks now, but he could see her silently begging behind her brown eyes. He hadn’t even met her grandma, but he’d be a monster to say no to her pain.

“Of course I’ll come.” He responded quickly.

The next day, he waited outside her house beside his car as Dia came out in a black dress covered in red roses. She was still putting in a teardrop shaped earring as she got in beside him.

“Thanks for coming, I just hate going to family gatherings alone. And funerals give me the heebies.”

“I think funerals give everyone the heebies.” He said reassuringly, rubbing her knee through her nylons. “Where are we headed?”

The car ride passed quickly as Dia told him stories about her grandma. About the cookies they’d baked when she was supposed to be too sick to go to school, and playing dress-up in her closet with floppy hats and lipstick. As they pulled into the parking lot of the funeral home, Will saw an older woman come quickly walking up. The woman shared Dia’s curly hair and brown eyes, and as Dia rushed up to sweep her into a hug, he could see the resemblance in their round cheek bones.

“Mom, this is Will.” Dia introduced as he came out of the car. “He’s the one I’ve been telling you about.” The woman looked him up briefly before sweeping him up into an equally big hug.

“It’s good to finally meet you, Will. Come on Dianna, let’s go introduce him to everyone.”

After shaking what felt like an endless number of hands, Will collapsed onto a small bench in the hallway. He heaved a sigh of relief as he looked up at the ceiling.

“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced, young man.” Said a voice beside him. Will looked over to see an elderly woman sitting beside him. She smiled at him warmly, her pure white hair curling gently about her ears. He was struck by the smile that it seemed Dia’s whole family shared, a genuinely happy one to see. He quickly straightened himself out, holding out his hand to shake.

“I’m Will, Dianna’s new boyfriend.” He said, giving a gentle shake to the delicate hand beneath his. The woman’s brown eyes twinkled back at him.

“So Dia has herself a new lover. How lovely for her!” She leaned over and whispered in a conspiratal tone, “We were worried she might never find herself a nice man. But you seem positively charming!” Will blushed slightly.

“Well, I try to be. I never realized her family was so… big.” The woman laughed, leaning over to peek through the open door where the family had gathered.

“Yes, who would imagine so many people turning out for one crazy, old lady.”

“She must have done something right, at least, to have such a welcoming family.” Will retorted, defensive of the woman he’d never met.

“And yet you’re sitting out here! What, did they scare you off?” She said with a playful hint.

Will ran a hand through his hair, “No, it’s just very intense. My family’s funerals have never been quite as boisterous as this one, Mrs…” He trailed off hesitantly.

“Call me Primrose, please. I think that she would have liked this funeral. It’s loud, and full of life. Better to celebrate what she did than mourn that she’s gone, right?”

Will nodded thoughtfully, “A celebration of life then…”

“…And maybe some new beginnings. You treat Dia well, okay? She deserves the best.”

Will smiled back at the woman, “I think I can do that.”

Just then Dia and her mother came into the hallway. “There you are, Will!” Dia said, “Come in, they’re about to do the eulogy.”

“Oh, sorry.” Will said, getting up, “I was just talking to Primrose here.” He gestured to the seat beside him as he noticed Dia’s mother’s eyes begin to fill with tears.

“You’re such a sweet boy.” She choked out before heading back into the room. Dia smiled.

“I didn’t know you were religious.” She said quietly, pulling him towards the gathering room. Will glanced back in confusion, to see nothing but an empty bench in the hallway. As he was pulled into the room, he heard Dia’s uncle from the front of the room begin to talk.

“We’re gathered here today to celebrate the passing of a great woman, Primrose Barriet…”

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