Library Use Only

The book landed on the marble floor with a heavy thud, and Myra picked it up as quickly as she could, its thickness requiring the use of both hands. Regardless of how sturdy the book appeared—it had been in existence for over a hundred years, after all—she twisted it around, examining the cover then the spine, making sure its surfaces sported no blemishes other than those the passage of time had designed. When she was certain she hadn’t unintentionally desecrated the coveted tome, she held it tightly to her breast, and walked the narrow aisle until the ceiling opened up. The glass dome above the central reading area on the floor revealed a darkening sky.
         The library will be closing soon, she thought, and her astute observation was punctuated by the fact that, apart from the archivist who was working on his laptop at his station near the floor’s main entry, she was alone in the reading area. She shrugged any worries away, and decided she could always sneak the book out, as she'd done with others before. She set the book atop the nearest table and sat down.
         She took a moment to admire the book—its leather cover with inlaid markings; the title in gilded Old English font, purposefully embossed at some places and debossed at others—and it bore that distinct aroma of ancient paper. Myra reached a hand to lift the cover when it violently flew open by itself, kicking up a cloud of dust, and she instinctively shut her eyes.

She heard a man’s voice but it sounded as if he was speaking while underwater. The man addressed her again, but his voice had gotten a little louder, clearer. Then, she felt a light nudge on her left shoulder, which made her open her eyes, and she wondered why they had been closed in the first place.
         “Miss, this is the last stop,” the bus driver said. He had gotten out of his seat and was leaning against the back of a chair across from where Myra sat.
         “What?” was all she could muster as she rubbed her eyes and attempted to regain focus. “Where-- where am I?”
         “Gresham Transit Center,” the bus driver said. He was a portly, older gentleman, who looked very tired. His name tag identified him as JERRY.
         “What?” she shouted. “What happened? What time is it?” Myra heard an anguished tone in her own voice, and can only imagine what the poor man was thinking.
         “Looks like you fell asleep, young lady,” Jerry said, straightening up. He turned to walk back to the driver’s seat, and retrieved his cell phone from the console. “What stop were you supposed to get off at?” he asked, while walking back toward Myra.
         Myra looked around at all the empty seats in the bus, the bright fluorescent lights overhead accosting her senses. Wasn't I just at the library? Her mind teetered at the edge of disorientation, but she quickly established composure. “60th and Stark,” she finally said, shaking her head. “This has never happened to me before.”
         “Happens more frequently than you think,” Jerry said. “Especially at this time of night. Want me to call you a cab?”
         “There are no busses going back downtown?” Myra asked.
         “This was the last bus, miss,” Jerry replied. “And I need to return it to the garage.”
         Myra stood up and grabbed her backpack, noticing immediately how much heavier it had gotten. She set it back on the seat, and opened it up. Her eyes widened at the sight of the library book within.
         “Miss?”
         She turned and saw that Jerry’s look of tiredness now hinted at annoyance, and she quickly zipped up her backpack. With some effort, she swung it on to her right shoulder. “No, thank you,” she said, pulling out her iPhone and touching the icon of an app she’d downloaded for circumstances such as the one into which she had gotten herself.
         “It’s nearly two in the morning, miss,” the old bus driver pointed out. “It’d be much safer if you—“
         “Got one,” she announced. “I have an Uber coming here in five minutes. Sorry this happened but I’ll be fine.”
         Jerry shook his head and smiled. “You youngsters and your magic phones. Well, that makes me feel so much better. I can spare another five minutes here. Make yourself comfortable while you wait for your… what did you call it?”
         Myra smiled and tried to respond but was suddenly unable to speak. The interior of the bus began to spin and she felt herself about to faint. The weight of her backpack succumbed to the forces of gravity and she tumbled backward. She heard the distressed yet muffled screaming of the tired bus driver before awareness left her.

A violent car horn jolted Myra awake, and she was at once aware of the coldness under her jeans. She opened her eyes, and quickly shielded them from the bright morning sun. A group of high schoolers walked in front of her. One of them had just finished telling a joke and laughter ensued as they disappeared around the corner. It was then that she realized she was sitting on the concrete steps at the entrance to Central Library. What the hell?
         A recent memory bubbled up to the surface, and she fumbled in her backpack to remove the old book. She went to lift the cover, but the book wouldn’t open, the pages seeming to be stuck. She held the heavy book in front of her, and a small index card fell from between the pages, landing on her Doc Martens. Defeated, she set the book down to pick up the piece of paper. On it, in Old English font, was the phrase: LIBRARY USE ONLY.
         She sighed and let out a light chuckle. “You win, book,” she said as she stood up, then headed inside the library.


Written for "The Writer's Cramp"   by Sophurky
Prompt: Write a story or poem about a magical book that can only be viewed at the library.
Word Count: 997