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As I walked into my local library, I felt at peace. Some people are addicted to heroin; I am addicted to literature. I love the way libraries are so organized, not only are books separated by genre but are also placed in alphabetical order. Beyond the placements of books the library is a place of poetry, a place of silence. I like the quiet atmosphere. Some find this insipid, but they are mad.
I search the shelves for an arousing story. With so many different choices this could be an appalling task. How can I possibly choose? I browse many different sections, coming across the horror section. Today was a good day for something truly malevolent. Finding one I go towards the common area and sit near a young lady. She wore a tightly fitted white blouse and skinny jeans. Her hair flowed past her shoulders. Her facial features are soft, and enjoyment radiated from her. I found her attractive. When I began reading I kept catching myself staring at her but as the novel went on I became more fascinated by the story, such majestic writing. My heart raced as the lawyer approached Mr. Hyde…
A group of young adults walked into the library, yelling and cheering at each other. They are ignoring etiquette. Sometimes and only sometimes while I am reading a tale a baby or a child or even an adult cries, screams, or yells. It ruins the story, makes me frustrated. It takes me away from my mysterious island. My blood begins to boil from indignation. My heartbeat slows down, becoming louder and louder until everyone can hear it. I know they can hear it because everyone stares at me. Everyone looks at me laughing! Their eyes scream at me! Humiliating me! I will show them! I will show them all! One of these days I will rip their voice boxes out. One of these days I will gouge their eyes out! I will laugh as blood drips from my hands.
I am not mad! Why and how can you say that I am mad? My mind is sharpened, it has not diminished. I can and will kill them! I will do it so slowly and quietly! No madman would be able to accomplish what I will do with such skill, such organization! The silence will be so that Stevenson, Verne or Poe could not write such beauty and would find this to be egregiousness. But today is not the day. Maybe tomorrow, today is most definitely not organized.
I shrugged, and closed my book. Today I will not have my time of rest, soon there will be silence but not today. I took another glance at the attractive lady. Her blouse was red. Her eyes showed consternation, what a shame she was such a beauty. I would have loved to take her home, but I’m positive that she was wearing a white blouse when I set down. I cannot be with someone so disorganized. But…She is quiet, I like that. I walked past her, walking towards the bookshelf the replace a strange story. I had to step over a body. His face looked panicked; I would be too if my larynx was lying next to me. More importantly he was quiet, I like that.
Credit To: Mr. Buffoonery