We make up horrors to help us cope with the real ones, the librarian's voice repeated over and over in Stanley's brain. He certainly didn't have any horrors in his life... or did he? His wife Evelyn was most certainly a nag, but he wouldn't call her a horror. Stanley wondered about horror writers, such as Stephen King, Dean Koontz, and Ann Rice. Did they each have horrors in real life they'd been coping with?
Stanley shook his head, forcing himself to concentrate on which book he'd like to read. For some reason, he decided against his favorite genre... horror.
"Psst!"
Stanley glanced around but spotted no one.
"Psst! Over here!"
The loud whisper seemed to be coming from the top shelf to his left. He jumped back when he noticed the books jiggling.
"Don't be going anyway, Stanley," the voice came again.
The man continued to stare at two books in particular, that seemed to be separating with space. A fairy peeked out and grinned.
Stanley pulled his glasses off and wiped them with a handkerchief.
"I'm not going anywhere," the fairy said. "And you're not seeing things. I'm as real as the mole on your nose."
Stanley touched the spot on his nose that seemed to be growing larger, day by day. "Is there something I can help you with?" he finally said. "This is my reading time and don't care to be wasting it talking to a fairy."
"Mr. Peters!" the librarian's voice warned.
"Sorry, Mrs. Bernard," he apologized, then whispered to the very strange looking fairy. "Who are you? Leave me alone!"
The fairy grinned again, showing her crooked teeth. "My name is Nessie, but the book reads Messie. It's a misprint and I need the typo fixed. Then I will be beautiful, thanks to you."
"Me? Oh, no you don't. I have more important things to do than helping fairies. I don't even like fantasy books."
"Have you ever read one, Stanley?" Nessie asked.
"I prefer horror. Now shoo! Leave! Go away!"
"Mr. Peters!" The librarian was not happy. Her shoes could be heard marching between the tall stacks.
Before Stanley could resist, Nessie sprinkled fairy dust on him so he would shrink to her size. Then she grabbed his hand and pulled him into her book.
Copyright 2000 - 2024 21 x 20 Media All rights reserved. This site is property of 21 x 20 Media
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.10 seconds at 1:16pm on Dec 25, 2024 via server WEBX2.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author