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Thread: Library

  1. #1

    Library

    Library Romance.

    Every time I went there and took a deep breath, the odour of vintage paper and fresh hardbacks tingled my olfactory senses, leaving me rejuvenated like a child who has eaten an entire bar of candy. Rows and rows of books piled in an unorganized fashion, some bundles lying on the floor and some on the stools which had frayed cushions with a few holes in them.
    It certainly wasn't a site of cleanliness or organization to behold, but it's unbothered and silent atmosphere gave it a homely feeling. Every evening, I would be on the stool in the farthermost corner from the entrance, having chosen a book for the week, reading. People rarely just sat down and read like me. They would either just browse titles to pretend they're interested for their friends or, in the case of boys, to woo a girl with their pretend intelligence.
    There was only one other person I saw often, he was on old man, perhaps a sexagenarian, his eyes were so delicate and aged as they swept over the lines of the book he had pulled out. So when a boy, perhaps just my age, walked through the aisles with an unabridged English translation of The Odyssey came and sat on a stool a shelf's length away from me, I was intrigued.
    But not intrigued enough to pursue some of the thoughts my mind suggested. I continued reading the novel I had in hand.
    For an hour, I was completely absorbed into the novel, unaware of any changes in the surrounding, then my mobile vibrated in my pocket and I was zapped back to reality. I didn't have too many friends, and those I did have were not on the network, or just weren't close enough to me to be sending me texts. I knew it had to be my mother as she always called for me as dinnertime neared.
    I stood up, adjusted my jeans and sweater and stretched myself like a cat. As I walked along the shelf to put my book in the discrete niche I had found a year ago while exploring, I saw that he was still sitting there. He was curled up, comfortably, oblivious of his surroundings. I kept the book in my place and walked out slowly, glancing back at times to see him, though he never looked back.

    That night, though I didn't know exactly why, he fluttered into my thoughts. It wasn't new for someone to do so, but the role he played in the scenario my imagination was unravelling was only ever played by someone fictional, a character, until now that is. I was holding him in embrace and walking with him down a river bank. I felt my chest light and a smile creep across my face as I dreamt this.

    The next day I couldn't go to the library, but
    instead of thinking about the novel I left in my place, my thoughts were focused more on him.

    The day after that, when I finally went, unbeknownst to myself as to exactly why, I found myself walking briskly, but rather than walk straight to my secret place, I turned a shelf earlier and came to the stool where he had sat two days ago.
    I felt let down, disappointed, my shoulders slacked, I walked lethargically to get my book. Instead of heading to my abode in the corner where I had sat for over a year every time I came here, I headed to the stool he had sat on.
    I soon forgot everything as I delved back into my virtual realm of perfection I found in books.

    For three days successively I went to the library, but on none, successively, he was to be found. Each day, I began to care less and less.
    On the fourth day I came to finish reading my novel, for I could sense the climax was coming, I went directly to grab my book and was going immediately to my old sanctuary, but I stopped midway.
    He was there today, just sitting reading The Odyssey. I didn't know him, he didn't know me, yet I felt somewhat betrayed that he refused to appear until today. I shook off the feeling and took my seat.
    However, I felt distracted, I kept throwing glances at him midway sentences. By the time my phone vibrated I had a vivid image of him engraved in my brain, which was what I was thinking about, barely having made progress with my book.
    His veins were visible whenever he bent his arm to position his book better. His hair wasn't eccentric, it was calm, combed back, it seemed to be smooth to touch. His face was broad, fair, playing host to a perfectly sized nose.

    The day after, I came a little early and seated myself on his stool. I pretended to read for I simply couldn't move past the first page I had open, though I had read much more complex works, comprehending them easily.
    After about fifteen minutes, he came walking looking down at his book. I stared at him when he was at a distance, but when he was just two shelves away, I looked down immediately, expertly pretending to read.
    He came close and looked at me, his face's shadow following on my book which, again, I used as a pretence to look up at him. His eyes were shining as they gazed into mine.
    We just stared awkwardly for a few moments. Or atleast I was awkward.
    "Hi." he said, smiling. The second he pulled out that face I felt my own face warm up and I could almost hear the blood rushing up to my cheeks.
    "H-hello." I stammered back, clumsily getting up.
    "Oh no, don't stand." He urged me like a gentleman. From this close distance, I noticed the features I had by-hearted from afar even more clearly. I began to sit down, jerkily, but I stumbled midway. Immediately in a millionth of a second I felt hugely embarrassed at failing at a trivial task like sitting down. But he suddenly grabbed my arm and back to support me from falling.
    "Thanks." He relaxed his grip to a caressing and delicate one, but he didn't let go. Again we just stared at each other for a few moments. He was smiling, his masculinity apparent. I was less certain and confident, my hands fidgeting, my teeth scraping at my lips, nervous.
    "I-I've been seeing you here." He said.
    At that moment, suddenly I stopped myself. He'd been seeing me. Just like I'd been seeing him.
    I walked away immediately. I was appalled at myself. I had fallen for someone for the silliest most unacceptable reasons- his looks. I felt betrayed by myself. The superficiality of the skin was unimportant to me. That was the principle I followed. I don't like him.
    I left the library, not turning back to look this time. But somehow I liked to believe if I had, I would see him standing with his mouth agape, eyes revealing his disappointment as they followed my motion to the doorway.
    * * *
    It had been two months and we had only skirted past each other. We would just glance at each other sometimes, looking at what the other had picked out to read. Sometimes we would smile, sometimes glare and sometimes just burst out laughing. But some sort of force just kept us from talking- finding out about each other.
    But then, that day, he just got up and began walking. I saw him at the edge of my periphery, but I continued reading. When I realized he was walking towards me, I peeled my eyes off the book and looked up at him, standing before me. His eyes, blue and eager stared down at me.
    “Just talk to me with a blindfold on and trust me, you’ll fall in love.”
    "It is a good divine that
    follows his own instructions: I can easier teach
    twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the
    twenty to follow mine own teaching."
    -William Shakespeare

  2. #2
    has a very naturalistic..almost enigmatic feel...the stting i liked and the rest was for me built around that..nicely done
    The only one who can heal you is you.




  3. #3
    I didn't mind the set up of the storyand I felt what the narrator was feeling was expressed alright. Ieven felt it was a nice touch not having the man show up for a fewdays as to enhance the drama of when they would first meet.


    I do suggest maybe to lengthen the lastparagraph a little since it does feel a bit condensed and it could enhance the tension. I also thought it was strange how the man's remark of how he'd been watching her caused the narrator to run away over her disgust on how superificial she was. And judging from the final line, how did he even come to the conclusion that her shallowness was the reason she avoided him in the first place?


    There were also some grammar errors and wording choices that could be fixed. Here were the few I could pickup on:
    For an hour, I was completely absorbed into the novel, unaware of any changes in the surrounding, then my mobile vibrated in my pocket and I was zapped back to reality.

    A part of my brain felt this should be two sentences. I'd suggest a fullstop (perhaps between 'surrounding' and 'then').


    It wasn't new for someone to do so, but the role he played in the scenario my imagination was unravelling was only ever played bysomeone fictional,a character, until now that is.

    I am aware that here you mean that theman had become so ingrained into her imagination he'd replaced afictional character in her fantasies. However, I think this whole sentence needs to be split into two or re-worded since it just didn't flow naturally to me. For example, the word I highlighted and underlined isn't needed.


    I felt my chest light and a smile creep across my face as I dreamt this.

    I think you mean “my chest lighten”. Light would imply that it was glowing.


    The day after that, when I finally went, unbeknownst to myself as to exactly why, I found myself walking briskly, but rather than walk straight to my secret place, I turned a shelf earlier and came to the stool where he had sat two days ago.


    I felt let down, disappointed, my shoulders slacked, I walked lethargically to get my book. Instead of heading to my abode in the corner where I had sat for over a year every time I came here, I headed to the stool he had sat on.
    The first paragraph is a very long sentence which is filled with too many comma's. I think it could be two or three sentences at least.


    Whilst I do understand from her disappointment that the man didn't show up, you could probably add something before the line on her disappointment (such as “the chair was empty” or “he wasn't there”) to make it less ambiguous.


    I didn't know him, he didn't know me, yet I felt somewhat betrayed that he refused to appear until today.
    I guess it isn't necessary, but I feel an 'and' could be used between “him” and “he”.


    We just stared awkwardly for a few moments. Or atleast I was awkward.

    Just pointing out that two of your words merged into one.


    From this close distance, I noticed the features I had by-hearted from afar even more clearly.

    I am not certain if this is a phrase commonly used. I assume you mean 'I had memorised from afar', but I don't think all readers would get what you mean.


    silliest most unacceptable reasons

    either put a comma between 'silliest' and 'most' or write it as 'silliest and most'.


    Otherwise, I felt your story was decent for what it was. I hope you take my advice into consideration.

  4. #4
    Good story. It does have promise. Made a few recommendations in blue. Lots of run-ons spotted that I didn't get a chance to point out. That can prove exhausting to some readers. Which is why it unnerves me to no end when people do this on social media lol! Best of luck!


    Quote Originally Posted by sirmirror View Post
    Library Romance.


    Every time I went there and took a deep breath, the odour of vintage paper and fresh hardbacks tingled my olfactory senses (could one say 'olfactories' instead?), leaving me rejuvenated like a child who has eaten an entire bar of candy. Rows and rows of books piled in an unorganized fashion, some bundles lying on the floor and some on the stools which had frayed cushions with a few holes in them (perhaps just well-worn cushions).
    It certainly wasn't a site of cleanliness or organization to behold, but it's unbothered and silent atmosphere gave it a homely feeling (confused -- i thought homely and unclean/disorganized were the same.)Every evening, I would be on the stool in the farthermost (farthest should suffice) corner from the entrance, having chosen a book for the week, reading. People rarely just sat down and read like me. They would either just browse titles to pretend they're interested for their friends or, in the case of boys, to woo a girl with their pretend intelligence.
    There was only one other person I saw often, he was on old man, perhaps a sexagenarian, his eyes were so delicate and aged as they swept over the lines of the book he had pulled out. (That was a big time run-on, so you might want to clean it up a bit.)So when a boy, perhaps just my age, walked through the aisles with an unabridged English translation of The Odyssey came and sat on a stool a shelf's length away from me, I was intrigued. But not intrigued enough to pursue some of the thoughts my mind suggested. (Suggestion: Thus, I was intrigued when a boy about my age sat down a shelf's length away from me holding an unabridged English translation of The Odyssey though not intrigued enough to pursue conversation.) I continued reading the novel I had in hand.
    For an hour, I was completely absorbed into the novel, unaware of any changes in the surrounding (surrounding what?), then (until) my mobile vibrated in my pocket and I was zapped back to reality. I didn't have too many friends, and those I did have were not on the network, or just weren't close enough to me to be sending me texts. I knew it had to be my mother as she always called for me as dinnertime neared.
    I stood up, adjusted my jeans and sweater and stretched myself like a cat. As I walked along the shelf to put my book in the discrete niche I had found a year ago while exploring, I saw that he was still sitting there. He was curled up, comfortably, oblivious of his surroundings. I kept the book in my place and walked out slowly, glancing back at times to see him, though he never looked back.

    That night, though I didn't know exactly why, he fluttered into my thoughts.(suggestion: That night, for reasons unbeknownst to me, he fluttered into my thoughts.) It wasn't new for someone to do so, but the role he played in the scenario my imagination was unravelling was only ever played by someone fictional, a character, until now that is. (Suggestion: It wasn't out of the ordinary for this to happen. However, it was the first time that a real person embodied the role.) I was holding him in embrace and walking with him down a river bank. I felt my chest light and a smile creep across my face as I dreamt this (I held him in an embrace and, walked with him down to the riverbank, a smile creeping across my face as I dreamt.)

    The next day I couldn't go to the library, but instead of thinking about the novel I left in my place, my thoughts were focused more on him. (The next day I couldn't go to the library. But, instead of thinking about the novel I left in my place, my thoughts were focused more on him.)

    The day after that, when I finally went, unbeknownst to myself as to exactly why, I found myself walking briskly, but rather than walk straight to my secret place, I turned a shelf earlier and came to the stool where he had sat two days ago.
    I felt let down, disappointed, my shoulders slacked, I walked lethargically to get my book. Instead of heading to my abode in the corner where I had sat for over a year every time I came here, I headed to the stool he had sat on.
    I soon forgot everything as I delved back into my virtual realm of perfection I found in books.

    For three days successively I went to the library, but on none, successively, he was to be found. Each day, I began to care less and less.
    On the fourth day I came to finish reading my novel, for I could sense the climax was coming, I went directly to grab my book and was going immediately to my old sanctuary, but I stopped midway.
    He was there today, just sitting reading The Odyssey. I didn't know him, he didn't know me, yet I felt somewhat betrayed that he refused to appear until today. I shook off the feeling and took my seat.
    However, I felt distracted, I kept throwing glances at him midway sentences. By the time my phone vibrated I had a vivid image of him engraved in my brain, which was what I was thinking about, barely having made progress with my book.
    His veins were visible whenever he bent his arm to position his book better. His hair wasn't eccentric, it was calm, combed back, it seemed to be smooth to touch. His face was broad, fair, playing host to a perfectly sized nose.

    The day after, I came a little early and seated myself on his stool. I pretended to read for I simply couldn't move past the first page I had open, though I had read much more complex works, comprehending them easily.
    After about fifteen minutes, he came walking looking down at his book. I stared at him when he was at a distance, but when he was just two shelves away, I looked down immediately, expertly pretending to read.
    He came close and looked at me, his face's shadow following on my book which, again, I used as a pretence to look up at him. His eyes were shining as they gazed into mine.
    We just stared awkwardly for a few moments. Or atleast I was awkward.
    "Hi." he said, smiling. The second he pulled out that face I felt my own face warm up and I could almost hear the blood rushing up to my cheeks.
    "H-hello." I stammered back, clumsily getting up.
    "Oh no, don't stand." He urged me like a gentleman. From this close distance, I noticed the features I had by-hearted from afar even more clearly. I began to sit down, jerkily, but I stumbled midway. Immediately in a millionth of a second I felt hugely embarrassed at failing at a trivial task like sitting down. But he suddenly grabbed my arm and back to support me from falling.
    "Thanks." He relaxed his grip to a caressing and delicate one, but he didn't let go. Again we just stared at each other for a few moments. He was smiling, his masculinity apparent. I was less certain and confident, my hands fidgeting, my teeth scraping at my lips, nervous.
    "I-I've been seeing you here." He said.
    At that moment, suddenly I stopped myself. He'd been seeing me. Just like I'd been seeing him.
    I walked away immediately. I was appalled at myself. I had fallen for someone for the silliest most unacceptable reasons- his looks. I felt betrayed by myself. The superficiality of the skin was unimportant to me. That was the principle I followed. I don't like him.
    I left the library, not turning back to look this time. But somehow I liked to believe if I had, I would see him standing with his mouth agape, eyes revealing his disappointment as they followed my motion to the doorway.
    * * *
    It had been two months and we had only skirted past each other. We would just glance at each other sometimes, looking at what the other had picked out to read. Sometimes we would smile, sometimes glare and sometimes just burst out laughing. But some sort of force just kept us from talking- finding out about each other.
    But then, that day, he just got up and began walking. I saw him at the edge of my periphery, but I continued reading. When I realized he was walking towards me, I peeled my eyes off the book and looked up at him, standing before me. His eyes, blue and eager stared down at me.
    “Just talk to me with a blindfold on and trust me, you’ll fall in love.”

  5. #5
    I loved it, this is a perfect scenario and I LOVED the last line, had me laughing, I would love to read the whole thing.

  6. #6
    I love the last line! I think you did a really good job of describing a crush based solely on looks. There is nothing wrong with that, it's something I'm sure all of us have experienced in our youth. When looks sent the hormones pumping and to the heck with personality.

    A thing that I didn't quite connect with is why the MC suddenly had a revelation of virtue in the middle of this crush. Why she suddenly became disgusted with herself for choosing a guy based on looks. Well, if not looks, then why is she falling for the guy? What's so attractive about him besides looks? Perhaps you can build up to this with what's she's truly looking for, and somehow during that chance meeting the guy lacked it.

  7. #7
    i like this kind of romance. very slow and natural. i could see this actually happening between two people. a built-up to a attraction.

  8. #8
    Hello!

    Pretty good. Same stuff as usual - need to look closely at how the story 'reads' and edit out unnecessary stuff and words/phrases that repeat things already established or assumed and avoid sounding tautologous.

    Quote Originally Posted by sirmirror View Post
    Library Romance. Boring title. Surely can be something catchier? Even 'the library' would be better.


    Every time I went there and took a deep breath, the odour of vintage paper and fresh hardbacks tingled my olfactory senses, leaving me rejuvenated like a child who has eaten an entire bar of candy. Rows and rows of books piled in an unorganized fashion, some bundles lying on the floor and some on the stools which had frayed cushions with a few holes in them. You already specified it was an odor so its not necessary to specify olfactory - keep one or the other. Does candy rejuvenate children? I'm not sure I'd use the word rejuvenate. Possibly 'excite'?


    It certainly wasn't a site of cleanliness or organization to behold, but it's unbothered and silent atmosphere gave it a homely feeling. Every evening, I would be on the stool in the farthermost corner from the entrance, having chosen a book for the week, reading. People rarely just sat down and read like me. They would either just browse titles to pretend they're interested for their friends or, in the case of boys, to woo a girl with their pretend intelligence. Good paragraph.


    There was only one other person I saw often, he was on old man, perhaps a sexagenarian, his eyes were so delicate and aged as they swept over the lines of the book he had pulled out. So when a boy, perhaps just my age, walked through the aisles with an unabridged English translation of The Odyssey came and sat on a stool a shelf's length away from me, I was intrigued. Your sentences are too long. Too many commas. Look at varying the lengths and adding periods and omit needless words. You don't need to say 'old man' plus 'sexagenarian' and then describe his eyes as 'aged'. Its overkill - "There was only one other person I saw often. An old man, perhaps a sexagenarian, eyes delicate as they swept the lines of the book he had found." Also I don't know if a sexegenarian really classifies as old these days..?

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