Anyway, here's a story from my archives, as I didn't get a chance to write one with my friend being here and everything. It's copy and pasted from a word document so sorry for any odd formatting.
The Scholar's Dance
The scholar sat in
the library reading an abused book. He nearly cried as he flipped the
pages, he thought no book should be treated in such a way. Over the
many years he had read books he had felt a sort of connection form
between him and them. The scholar had long machine gray hair, because
of all the time he spent reading he often forgot to cut it. His shirt
had an obnoxious plaid pattern; the colors were so loud they
disrupted the silence of the library. His skin had become a pale
tint, he never spent any time in the sun, the library had no windows,
so he couldn’t pry himself away from the texts long enough to go
outside. His large flabby bottom was constantly sore because he
refused to read anywhere besides his favorite chair in the back. It
was brand new when he read his first book seventy years ago. Now it
could barely supported his weight and creaked with every movement.
The only reason the librarian kept the chair was for him.
The old book he was
holding flew away from he. He looked on in shock as the pages of the
book flew apart and fluttered in the air like butterflies. They
started to form into some sort of tornado. Around and around they
went, tightening closer and closer to something in the middle. After
a few seconds the pages stopped flying and fell to the ground,
revealing a woman.
She had gray hair
like his, but it glowed with her eternal youth. The woman had perfect
skin and a perfect figure, and stood with a perfect posture. To the
scholar she seemed to be young enough to be his granddaughter, but he
somehow also knew that she was many years his senior. He marveled at
her dress, it was made of the finest silk, and had a white color
dotted with millions of black dots swirling down its sides. When she
walked towards him the dress flowed and folded, the pattern giving
the illusion of monochrome waves flowing around her. When he looked
closely at the dots, he realized they were actually words printed in
some infinitely small font.
She did not speak
to him; she simply extended her arm towards him and smiled. Even
without words he understood her gesture. She wanted to dance. He
stood up and took her hand. A soon as he did that the mysterious lady
pulled him toward her. She began to dance with him, his frail old
body unable to keep up with her strides as she threw him about like a
rag doll. She danced dances nobody had ever done before. It seemed as
though she was simply making them up. But the scholar knew she
wasn’t, her strides were so methodical that it seemed she had known
these dances since birth.
He tried to keep up
with her; he learned her dances as fast as he could. But as soon as
he mastered one she began another. She pulled the scholar through
every section in the library. She whisked him through the Fantasy
section, tossed him through the History section, and drifted with him
through the Romance section, stopping to kiss him before moving on to
Horror.
The scholar fell
deeply in love with this woman, whoever she was. He wanted to know
every one of her infinite dances. He felt like she had made him fall
into some bottomless pit of love. He looked at her eyes as if they
were a book cover. It was a great cover for such a beautiful woman,
vibrant and bright. He felt like she was reading her, every step
being a page of a wonderful story of love.
She stopped in the
front of the library, next to the exit and let go of his hand. When
he stopped feeling her touch he grew cold. She began to walk out the
door.
“No don’t
leave! I want to keep dancing,” he begged for at least few more
steps at her side. She continued on her way out. He didn’t want her
to leave the library it was his only home. “Please don’t go! I
don’t even know you’re name!”
“My name is
Knowledge.” she replied. Now he knew the why he had fallen in love
with her. She was the reason he had read all those books over the
years. He was trying to find her all along. “You may keep dancing
with me if you wish. But only a few dances I know are within this
library. My steps go far beyond these pages. And to learn all my
dances you must go outside with me.” She continued to walk out the
door.
The scholar looked
behind him at the entirety of the library. He had fallen in love with
the books contained inside. But now he realized that he must leave
the confines of the library to truly begin his pursuit of that
wonderful woman. He bid his books farewell and grabbed her hand once
more. Together they strode out of the library and began the next
dance.
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