I Shall Be a Temptress

5:30 AM
I was able to contact Macy. She was rather excitable at first over the phone--kept calling me her 'friend' that had finally gotten in contact with her.

5:32 AM
The excitement died down rather once she figured out it was me. BUT! She has agreed to come back to work. Excellent. I can't be doing all these heavy-lifting duties by myself. I can't even reach the top shelf. The books came in a couple days ago; I've been busily filling in the bottom half of the shelves. It fills me with a deep sense of satisfaction to see all the books neatly filling those awful gaping holes where books should be.

8:09 AM
And what do people do? They insist upon coming here and making MORE gaps in the shelves. Go buy your own books!

8:11 AM
Few things are more horrendous than an unreturned book. Not returning books is where all evil begins.

8:12 AM
Because once you don't return books, you figure there's no harm in taking other things and not returning them. When you don't return a library book, you're breaking a PROMISE. It's stamped into every library book. The due date promise. And once you break that promise...you can break any promise.

8:14 AM
Therefore, not returning library books should end in a far more severe penalty than a 50 cent fine.

8:15 AM
In fact, I shall add to my list of requirements I made all those months ago. I found the list in my desk.

6.) Thou shalt return books or I shall hunt thou down with an axe. Or a scythe... I shall be...the Grim Reader.

9:00 AM
Stacking books into shelves doesn't work if a cat is asleep in the back of them.

9:01 AM
I'll have to go to the store and get some hydrogen peroxide. Ow.

10:13 AM
I have made a successful venture to the store and back. No one noticed I was gone. No one assumes that there's no librarian in a library; they just assume that, if they can't see a librarian, the librarian is hidden behind some shelf or other.

10:15 AM
I would have been to the store and back sooner if I'd ridden my bike, but my knee made an unpleasant popping noise when I tried to get on it, so I walked. And every step I made, it popped again.

10:16 AM
Don't people shoot horses when their knees don't work properly?

10:28 AM
I just looked it up. They either shoot the horse or they sell it to a glue manufacturer. The book had pictures and everything.

10:29 AM
I need tea to wash away images of horse anatomy that was never designed to see the light of day.

10:35 AM
Let's see, what do we have here? Numi tea. I've never had it before--I bought it on a whim. Whim--whimsy, whimsical. Related to the older word 'whimwham,' which means 'fanciful object.' The saving grace of the internet is that it has things like online etymology dictionaries.

10:37 AM
Unicorns are whimsical. I wonder if they'd get shot once their knees gave in?

10:38 AM
I must think happy thoughts. Like tea.

10:40 AM
Good heavens, there are instructions on how to make the tea on the back of every Numi tea packet!

On the back of the Orange Spice tea, it says...let me see, where are my glasses...I know I just had them a moment ago because I was reading the list of requirements earlier this morning...

10:43 AM
Oh god! What if I left them in the grocery store? What if I never get them back? I've only got one pair! I'm a librarian, I can't afford new glasses!

10:44 AM
And new glasses are all made into stupid designs! With pink swirls on the rims!

10:45 AM
I found them. In my breast pocket.

10:46 AM
Ahem. "Moonlight Orange Spice tea. For the Perfect Cup: Pull fresh water from the orange grove spring."

...We haven't got any orange groves up here. Or springs, for that matter. Of course, the instructions do specify THE orange grove spring. Perhaps making this tea involves some sort of epic journey.

"(otherwise, drinking water will do)." Oh. How boring. "Bring to a boil--" what idiot doesn't know that making tea requires boiling water?--"and pour over a sachet of Moonlight Spice." No, I think I'll pour it into an empty teacup and see how that tastes.

"Steep 5-7 minutes. Due to the delicacy of the white tea, careful attention is needed to capture the full taste." Hmm.

10:55 AM
I don't think this teabag is for me. Perhaps another one? Let's see..."Ruby Chai: Tempt water to a boil..." Now, this is more like it.
I shall be a temptress. I am wearing a skirt; skirts are tempting.

10:56 AM
I've also undone one button on my shirt. Now, what is it that temptresses do? Ah, yes. They sing. That's what the sirens did in the Odyssey. The library is empty, too, so...

11:02 AM
There was one man on the a computer over in a corner I couldn't see. It's ok, though, he left soon after I started singing.

11:04 AM
How long, I wonder, does it take to tempt water in a boil? It doesn't even look mildly interested in me. Not even the faintest bubble.

11:10 AM
I give up. I've tried. Now I'm going to return to the tried and true method of torturing it with intense heat until it boils.

11:20 AM
Ah, the peace and tranquility of docile water and a tea bag.

I'm Going to Raise Hell

5:30 AM
It is strange to wake up inside the library. It's not a particularly attractive building, even the back rooms. Linoleum floors, cinder block walls, fake wood counter tops in the staff kitchen.

5:32 AM
Still, anything is better than SunnyDay Retirement Home, where Every Day is Bright with Possibility.

5:34 AM
Possibility of some old person turning up their toes, most likely. I wonder why retirement homes are all named to sound like kindergarten buildings. Stick the two next to one another and you probably wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

5:35 AM
Unless you went inside, of course. Kindergarteners look different from people who are 80+ years old. Fact of life.

5:38 AM
Zeppelin just knocked over the tea. Not just the cup of tea, but the whole tray with the teapot, tea cup, sugar, and milk.

5:39 AM
And the plate of cheese and crackers and apples.

5:40 AM
I shall have to kill him and sacrifice him to the library gods. Perhaps they'll take pity and replenish the book supply.

5:41 AM
Except I can't kill him. I've only got two cats; I mustn't waste them.

6:00 AM
The mess has been cleaned up, the cat locked in the book return box until I think he's learned his lesson, and now I have a fresh pot of tea. Well! Not a bad morning after all.

7:30 AM
I've just got a huge box from a UPS man! This really is quite exciting--it must be the books ! I didn't even have to sacrifice my cat.

7:35 AM
Now I just have to get the wretched thing open. There appears to be a lack of sharp objects in the library to cut through the tape on the box. No scissors, no box cutter, no letter opener... Perhaps if I try stabbing the tape with a pencil or pen, I can make a hole and pull it apart from there with my hands?

7:38 AM
No.

8:00 AM
I can't believe I'm being foiled by a box covered in tape. I tried prying the tape up with my fingers, but my grip is too weak. I never knew how nice it was to have nimble hands until I didn't have them anymore. I hate being old. I wonder if one could get hand transplants?

8:01 AM
Probably not.

8:04 AM
I don't know what to do with this ridiculous box. It's too heavy to move anywhere, and it's stuck right here in the way of the door.

8:07 AM
Ha! SUCCESS!! I'm brilliant! I opened the box with my cheese grater. At least I can get through the cardboard now.

8:10 AM
This...does not look like something someone would pack books in. It's an insulated cooler, I think. Do books require a certain temperature to travel in?

8:11 AM
Perhaps they're preserving the books from aging? Maybe I should travel in a freezer and see how that improves my bodily preservation.

8:12 AM
GOOD GOD! These are not books!

8:14 AM
What kind of a country is this, I ask you?! I ordered books, which, the last time I checked--though, admittedly, I've been unconscious for several months--are bits of pulped wood with bits of ink on them. Ink has heavy metals in it, which is very detrimental to the environment, but the contents of this box are definitely more detrimental to the environment than ink could ever be.

8:15 AM
And detrimental to my mental health. Detri..mental health. Ha!

8:16 AM
Hahaha! Alright, I need to focus on the problem at hand.

8:17 AM
I'm going to call the UPS office and raise hell. I don't want these things decomposing in my nicely renovated library.

8:25 AM
"Hello? Yes, I--" wait, this isn't a real person, it's a machine answering their silly phone! No, I do NOT want to check the shipping status of my package, that's the whole problem--it's here, you, you... computer! I want to talk to a person.
"PERSON! LI-VING FLESH!" Please repeat? What kind of intelligent machine are you? I articulated as though you were 80 years old!

8:28 AM
This is ridiculous.

8:31 AM
FINALLY! "Yes, I have a problem with you and your entire company."
He says he's sorry. I don't think he means it.
"Actually, I ordered a package and something I didn't order arrived. Something that is very markedly not the thing I ordered."
Huh. Problems like this occur all the time, he says. What kind of a company does this sort of thing repeatedly? Aren't you supposed to learn from your mistakes?
"I ordered a lot of books. Why? Because I'm a librarian. Would you like to know what I got instead? A box of frozen birds! Dead ones, with the feathers still in! What kind of sick company are you?!"
He's told me to look at the address label. I know my address, why would I--oh.

8:36 AM
There's a different mailing address on it. It's supposed to go to the Environmental Studies Office down the road.

8:37 AM
But this means nothing! They are still at fault for sending me the wrong package and mentally traumatizing an old woman with a box of frozen birds!
"This means nothing! You are still at fault for sending me the wrong--"
He said they're sending someone over to pick up the box. And he hung up. Young people are so rude these days.

8:39 AM
I should probably let Zeppelin out of the book return box.

They'll Have to Pry Me Out of Here with an Iron Bar

5:17 AM
I have unearthed a problem.

5:18 AM
One that can be circumvented, but it is one I'd rather didn't exist. The fact of the matter is...there's no shower or bath in the library.

5:20 AM
Which, under normal circumstances, would be a reasonable lack in a public library. But right about now, the lack is highly inconvenient. I shall have to French Bathe.

5:21 AM
Sponge bathe, I mean. Not French bathe in the sense of not bathing at all, like Napoleon's Josephine. I believe in Hygiene.

5:23 AM
With a capital 'H.'

6:00 AM
Nice and clean now. Time for morning tea.

6:03 AM
I shall take an inventory of everything that the library is missing after that maniac burned the books. Then I shall devise a plan to make the city pay for replacing them.

6:10 AM
Which will be difficult. Extracting money, I mean. They're already rather shirty about having had to repair the building. Miserly little monsters, politicians. Ah, well, I'll just order everything and then send them a bill to surprise them. Perhaps they'll go down quietly due to shock.

8:04 AM
It's disastrous. I think I'm going to sink into a depression. We're missing nearly a quarter of our collection. The city's going to go berserk when I send them the bill. That'll be an exciting board meeting.

8:10 AM
Hahaha. "Exciting board meeting." Practically an oxymoron.

9:00 AM
I hate computers.

9:02 AM
And online book-sellers and everything to do with ordering things online.

9:09 AM
And people who come in asking for books that are long burnt and crushed to ashes as an offering to some maniac god. Go away. No, we don't have it. Yes, I'm quite sure. Are you aware that we had dingbats breeze through here and set the building alight? No? Well now you know.

9:20 AM
At last--peace and quiet, the kind that comes when the proper amount of people are in the library.

9:21 AM
The proper amount being 1.

9:22 AM
As in, me. And my two cats, of course.

9:40 AM
HA! At last. My orders have been placed. Books will come. I think I shall go to the grocery store and stock up on cheese and crackers. On my bike! Yes! Ooh, I have missed riding my bike. There it is, chained up outside the library even now, after so long. Beckoning to me.

9:42 AM
Ooh, everything aches... What's the point of having knees if they hurt too much to move? Wouldn't it have been kinder for evolution to just give us solid, unjointed stalks to trot about on?

9:45 AM
I've just tried to walk without bending my knees.

9:46 AM
It was not successful.

9:50 AM
It's even harder to bike without bending one's knees.

10:00 AM
Cheese! Crackers! Apples! Peanut butter! Oh, truly, these are the ingredients of ambrosia. I also got more tea. One can't have too much tea.

10:53 AM
Extracted one of the cats from the book return box. I'm not even sure how he got in there in the first place, but putting your hand through the slot was like paddling in a piranha tank until I found the key to unlock the access door.

11: 15 AM
I have arranged the backrooms of the library to my satisfaction. Now, I have to find Macy and re-hire her. All the other librarians have given notice. Not me, though. They'll have to pry me out of here with an iron bar.

But First, I Shall Have Tea

12:23 PM
An eternity has passed.

12:24 PM
That is to say, three days have passed. And they were, as I predicted, an eternity long.

12:30 PM
Here's the bus to take me back to town and away from the hospital and my miserable roommate.

12:32 PM
She wasn't sorry to see me go. Ha, well, I saw the next woman they were wheeling in to take up my bedspace. My roommate will be screaming for me to come back.

12:37 PM
I hate buses. And people who bring their horrible little yappy dogs onto the bus with them.

12:38 PM
And the horrible little yappy dogs, for that matter. Why to people like tiny dogs that yip all the time? Cats are quiet and all they do is sleep and occasionally eat bits of furniture when they're not entertained properly.

12:38 and a few seconds PM
Oh my god, my cats. Who's been looking after them?! I've been in a coma for over four months; what will have happened to them? I can't believe I forgot about this.

12:38 PM
Well I didn't actually forget. I was indefinitely unconscious. But they won't understand. They're cats. All they understand is tuna and cuddling.

12:40 PM
Perhaps Macy took them home; she knew I had cats. She's looked after them for me before.

12:42 PM
Which brings up a whole new host of worries.

12:43 PM
This bus is taking forever.

12:50 PM
I'm going to gut that little dog.

1:54 PM
Here! My bus stop at last--only a few more minutes of walking and I can sort everything out...

2:00 PM
My rooms are empty. I have opened the door to room number 316, with my key, in my apartment building. I'm sure I'm in the right place, otherwise the key would not have worked. Which does not make sense. My rent was paid to the end of the year, and, if I'm not very much mistaken, the end of the year has not come. So where has my stuff gone? WHAT HAVE THEY DONE WITH MY CATS?

2:07 PM
I've cornered the landlord. We'll see what he has to say about this.
"What have you done with my things?" I hope that sounded outraged enough. That's right, cower in fear. This is going to take a lot of explanation on his part.
"Well, Ms. Evans...we, we thought you were dead, so we... canceled your claim on the apartment. It's been rented out to a nice young couple, they're moving in next week, actually..." I would have a heart attack right now, but it would mean that I'd have to go back to the hospital. "I am NOT dead. I paid for that apartment! You had no right to give it to someone else! What did you do with my cats?! My things?"

2:09 PM
He's gone and ducked behind the counter in the lobby. Probably a good move on his part, but I am not pleased. I shall just have to follow him.
"My cats?" No need for complete sentences now; I think I've tapped into the primeval form of communication. Few words, much emotion. In this case, rage. Ug make fire, Ug set you on fire!
My, he's having trouble getting his words out. "We sold them to the pound, Ms. Evans--but, but!" He's holding his hands out at me, which I hardly think will stop me--"We put all your stuff in storage until we could find the next of kin! It's all here, we have all of your things!"
"You cold slimy excuse for a human! That's like saying, 'I'm terribly sorry, but I've killed your children. But don't worry, I didn't break your furniture!' What pound?!" I cannot believe this. "When did you sell them?"

3:00PM
At the pound. This is the most depressing place I've ever been. Apparently my landlord dished out my cats for a dollar apiece and called it good. The pound people--and all of them look as if they need a good dose of either Zoloft or cyanide, depending on which would be kinder--are checking to see if they have any of my cats left.

3:02 PM
Two cats. Out of nine, there are two left: Zeppelin, who doesn't have enough intelligence to fill a quarter teaspoon, bless his heart (he's the one who got stuck in the lampshade whilst trying to catch a moth), and the others were shipped down south to a bigger pound.

4:26 PM
I have the landlord cornered again. He's nailed the gate to get behind the desk shut, and I confess I haven't the heart--no, literally, being over sixty really does weaken the old ticker--to haul myself over the counter to strangle him. I'll have to content myself with my vivid imagination and a list of demands that I will expect him to fulfill. And he WILL fulfill them.

4:30 PM
There are no other apartments available. What, one wonders, is the point of surviving an entire library collapsing in burning shambles on top of oneself just to get back and find out your apartment has been rented out and you have no where to live? Answer me that, you prick.

4:31 PM
He has no answer. Very well. I shall just have to move into the library. I haven't been back since I've been in the coma, but I know it's been patched up a bit. It's closed, though; I suppose they realized the futility of letting the place just be run by Macy. Although really, she does a better job than most people would; at least she's properly respectful of the books. Keeps them in line. Scares off people who want to check out books and leave gaping holes on the shelves. Scares of regular people, for that matter.

4:50 PM
The landlord kindly agreed to move all of my things to the library in his hauling van.

4:51 PM
After I threatened to slice him up into bits, put him through a meat grinder, and feed him to my two remaining cats, since I will be too poor to buy cat food for them. Young men like him need a bit of encouragement.

5:00 PM
Ahh, to be in the library at last, to return to my true calling! It's a mess in here. And did Mr. Landlord deign to stay and help the little old lady organize her belongings in the worker's lobby? I think not.

5:01 PM
I shall plot his demise from afar. I shall scheme devilish strategies to make his life a misery. I shall concoct a plan to make him rue the day he was born. No, rue the day that he was conceived! Rue the day his parents met one another! He shall be rueful for everything once I am done with him!

5:09 PM
But first, I shall have tea.

Three Days is an Eternity

2:09 PM
I hate hospitals.

2:15 PM
Loath them. Abhor them. Despise them. Deprecate. Detest, disdain, deride, disparage, disfavor.

2:17 PM
So many words. So little time. I wonder if anyone has noticed quite how many synonyms of 'hate' start with the letter 'D'? I bet you if I used a thesaurus I could have a much longer list.

2:20 PM
Hospitals, apparently, do not have thesauruses. Just cheeky little nurses padding about asking me if I need anything and then refusing to give me what I ask for.

2:22 PM
I think a thesaurus is a perfectly reasonable request. It's a shocking lack that this hospital doesn't even have the most rudimentary of libraries. One of the nurses had to lend me her own personal copy of a book to occupy the dry, empty hours with.

3:00 PM
On top of everything else, the doctor is coming in a few minutes to "check up" on me. There's nothing to check. I am not dead; I've gotten quite good at not being dead, thank-you-so-very much, so if you please I think it's time to be discharged now.

3:07 PM
Here he is now.
"Miss Evans, how are we feeling today?" If there was a true and just god, He would have smote this nitwit where he stands on the basis that he's speaking to me as if I were three years old.
"I don't know how we are feeling today. I'm perfectly well, but I hope you're having a horrible day." That was a partial lie; I feel like I've been steamrollered to the bed. Everything else was true, though.
He's smiling at me. Humoring the spunky little old lady. "We do sound rather more robust than normal, don't we?" Smarmy, rich little twit.
"When are you going to discharge me?" Perhaps if I'm brisk and efficient with him, he'll stop using 'we' as his direct object and resort to being correct in his speech and say 'you.'
No such luck, he's gone off on a dumbed-down lecture of what a 'coma' is and why 'we' can't expect 'us' to recover in only a few short weeks... Why does he have to make recovering a group activity? Is this supposed to build my morale?

3:20 PM
If he keeps going on like this I'll darn well give him something to recover from.

3:34 PM
Better news than I expected; I must endure only three more days of being here, and then I'm free to go home.

3:36 PM
Three; a symbolic number. Everything comes in threes in stories. Except Noah's Arc, where groups of three would have been awkward and extraneous.

3:40 PM
I do get tired easily, but I think it might be a survival mechanism; all these white, surgical walls and the ugly, puce green and pink furniture are encroaching on me, and I'm hooked up to so many IVs that I certainly can't make a break for it; so my body shuts down in pure self preservation.

12:13 AM
And it wakes back up at the most cursed inconvenient times; nothing good is on television at this time of night and I've only got one book--Pride and Prejudice--and I've read it four times already since I woke up from my coma.

12:15 AM
I'm getting a bit prejudiced against it.

12:17 AM
Hahahaha.

1:30 AM
One would think that at my age, sleeping wouldn't be difficult. After all, isn't that one of the things old people are famous for doing? Sleeping? Falling into peaceful dozes not only at night but also in the early afternoon?

1:32 AM
Clearly such peace and tranquility is not for the likes of me. However, I have just figured out how to adjust the bed with the little automagical button. It can make the bed sit up...like so...and then lie flat...like so...

1:40 AM
This is more fun than I think I'd normally find it. I shall stop now before my roommate wakes up and howls for the nurses to complain about me. She is a most unforgiving sick person; I can't move for having her complain that I'm bothering her in some obscure fashion.

1:42 AM
Pitched an absolute fit when she overheard me asking a nurse if I could keep my cats in the room with me.

1:50 AM
In here, three days is going to be an eternity.

Ain't No Hiding Place

5:00 AM
I couldn't sleep in this morning. I woke up and felt...compressed. Like I'd been stuffed in a box and left in the attic. I've opened all the windows, even though it's freezing and damp outside, but my apartment still feels a little stuffy.

5:07 AM
Perhaps it is an omen of deep dark frightening things. The stuffiness, I mean. Yesterday my library was ravished by religious delinquents, today my apartment is stuffy when it's 35 degrees outside. I'm beginning to see a pattern. An ominous pattern.

5:10 AM
Never mind. It's just that my heater's decided to start working again, and of course I had it cranked up to the highest it could go when it was broken as though my turning it up would make a difference (what with it being broken and whatnot). And it has made a difference now, and it appears to keep wanting to make a difference because now it won't turn off.

5:12 AM
Perhaps this is God's way of getting back at me for laughing at the fact that he didn't strike my library with lightening. Bastard.

5:14 AM
Altan Yilmaz is on my black list. Why doesn't God punish heartless jilters as opposed to innocent librarians?

5:30 AM
Tea makes everything a little more bearable. Tea, tea, tea...Good heavens, my dentures fell in the kettle. I'll fish them out with my salad clompers.

6:00 AM
I will brace myself and go to the library in half an hour. I must view the destruction with a brave heart, like Bilbo in "The Hobbit." If ever I die--and I must assume that I will, it seems to happen to everyone else--I want to have that book with me. Perhaps I should start carrying it with me wherever I go, just in case I die suddenly and without warning. Perhaps I'll be hit by a bus on my bike on the way to the library. Or someone will poison my tea. Or Altan Yilmaz will murder me out of tortured guilt he feels every time he sees me because he realizes what a cruel person he was to leave me waiting and he can't stand it any longer and so he'll take a coffee mug to me and bludgeon me to death.

6: 05 AM
And then he'll die of shame. Because he'll have killed me. I wonder what it's like to be murdered. Uncomfortable, I expect.

6:35 AM
I cannot delay it anymore. I'm going to the library to assess the damage. Perhaps I can salvage some books from the pile that they burned. I'm heading out on my bike now.
With my copy of "The Hobbit" in my pocket. You never know, with buses.

6:50 AM
No chance of saving an entire book. There are a few pages scattered here and there, but they're a bit charred. It's all a big pile of gooey ashes that have sort of cemented from yesterday's rain. It's not raining right at the moment, but the sky looks like miso soup broth.

7:00 AM
I almost had a heart attack, coming in here to the library. The shelves are a mess--I think more than half the books were stolen. It makes me sick to look at it.
I need tea.

7:02 AM
Scratch that. The teapot's broken. Die, world.

7:06 AM
Good heavens, there's a dead man on the floor.

7:06 1/2 AM
No such luck. He's asleep, and it's the man who ordered the crazy religious whackjobs to burn my books. Perhaps I should spear him one last time with my umbrella. How dare he sleep in MY library?
"GET UP!"

7:07 AM
That perked him up. He looks affronted. Tough cookies.
"You," he's saying. Well, who else does he expect to find in this library? Besides a few regulars--and they're all weird, every last one of them, all obsessed with one thing or another--Macy and I are really the only ones who are ever here. Surprise, there's a librarian in the library!
"You have no right to be sleeping in here. Out." I'm pointing at the doors, but he doesn't seem to get the message. What is it with these people and their inability to understand simple body language?
He's drawing himself up, as though he's here for some sort of worthy cause. "Ma'am, I'm here to finish my task."
"And I'm here to foil it, you fiend!" I brandished my umbrella and I bared my dentures at him. I have no idea what sort of task he's going to finish, but judging by the disgusting pile of ashes outside, he isn't the sort of person who does any kind of acceptable tasks. Ooh, I should add that to my rules of requirement for entering my library:
#6-->Thou shalt not engage in suspicious activities that involve any kind of god and/or freakish religion.

7:15 AM
He's walloped me! In the stomach! Brute! Walloping an old woman like that! I can barely breath! No, really, I think he's dented something important, I'm heaving for air...
I've thrown up all over the floor, and of course these floors are carpeted, it'll take ages to clean it up...
"You cannot deny the word of God." The worst part is that he sounds nice. I don't like people who are not nice sounding nice. He's so calm. Like I'm not really a problem. I AM a problem, and he WILL deal with me if he thinks he's going to be doing any kind of task in here--
"I was waiting for you to return. You are an instrument of Satan, and you must be purified, along with this building of Sin."

7:19 AM
I'm trapped in here with a complete lunatic. This is why I hate religion. Look what it's DONE to him--"You think your religion justifies you being a psychopath?" I tried to scream that, but all I can do right now is squeak because I haven't quite got my breath back. But I squeaked in a very menacing way. What to do, what to do...Just because I was curious this morning about how it feels to be murdered doesn't mean I actually wanted to try it out--I think I'd best toss that out there in hope that whoever controls these sorts of events takes that into consideration. As depressing as this library looks right now, I'm not ready to die until I've fixed it up again.

7:20 AM
He's coming closer. Time to run away.

7:21 AM
Crawl.

7:21 and a bit AM
Help.

7:22 AM
He's singing again, like last night. Another hymn, I can dredge my memories of it from the church I used to attend so long ago. I'm crawling like mad, but he's got this rather ingenious advantage of being young and able to walk and still having proper use of his lungs.

And he's using them to sing what was a perfectly good Gospel song before he dirtied it with his creepy zeal.

There's no hiding place down here,
there's no hiding place down here;
Well I ran to the rocks to hide my face,
the rocks cried out "No hiding place,
there's no hiding place down here."

And he keeps coming, no matter how madly I crawl across this old carpet. I have to get to my feet, have to do something other than wriggle across the floor like a desperate fish.

7:26 AM
I've managed to get behind the front desk, moving like a soldier trying to avoid gunfire in a movie. And that twit keeps coming and singing, coming and singing...

I'll pitch my tent on cold ground,
I'll pitch my tent on cold ground,
Oh I'll pitch my tent on this cold ground,
and give old Satan one more round,
There's no hiding place down here.

He's going to have to worry about a damn sight more than Satan when I'm through with him.
Plan! Oh, I have a plan! Thank heavens for the inspiration pure panic and desperation spurs into existence! I'll pull the fire alarm bell, right here on the wall, it'll wake up the whole town and I'll be rescued! It's the most annoying fire alarm ever. People are bound to rush over out of sheer fury.

7:30 AM
I've pulled it! Ha! He's covered his ears and jumped back! TAKE THAT!

7:31 AM
He's attacking! Not fair! I pulled the alarm, he should just burst into tears and await his arrest--He's setting the library on fire. "RULE NUMBER SEVEN! DO! NOT! SET MY LIBRARY ON FIRE!"
I'll skewer him with my umbrella if it's the last thing I do!

7:32 AM
It's the last thing I think I'm going to do. He's thrown me into one of the shelves, and the books and cheap flimsy shelves are piled around me--I can't see anything but smoke and all I can hear is the crackling pop of the fire--all that dry paper and wood is going to go up fast, and I am stuck. Well it's a good thing I pulled the alarm, surely they've heard it--surely...

Oh, the devil wears a hypocrite's shoe,
Yeah the devil, he wears a hypocrite's shoe,
The deavil wears a hypocrite's shoe,
If you don't watch out he'll slip it on you,
there's no hiding place down here...

My first order of business will be to rip that man's lungs out when I'm out of here. Violently. I'm having trouble breathing through this smoke, now--what is it you're supposed to do? Stay low to the ground and crawl to safety? Good, because crawling is about all I can do.

7:34 AM
No, I tell a lie--my legs are trapped under a shelf. Crawling is not an option. They better hurry up with that rescue. They do know I'm in here, don't they? I mean, I get here every morning, early. It's what I do.

7:40 AM
It's what I did. Can't breath...the cats...did I feed the cats this morning? My feet are tingling, I think they've gone asleep under the shelves, and I can't move my legs...It's hot in here, is the heater broken?

Ain't no hiding place down here...

His voice was so far away, and it really wasn't the last thing I wanted to hear.

7:42 AM
The siren blared across the cold, damp streets and woke up everyone and his dog--especially the dogs. The canines howled at the sound and the growing stench of smoke that hung stiffly in the humid air. It took a while, but people crawled out of their beds, irate and ready to shoot whoever set off the alarm.
Some people gathered at the library, which had smoke billowing out of its crevices. A man was standing outside, singing. Not very well, but it was a catchy song, for a hymn.

Over My Dead Body

12:09 AM
I have waited up all night. Mr. Yilmaz did not come to fix my heater.

12:10 AM
I fed the dosa to the cats.

7:00 AM
I got to the library at 6:30 this morning. I felt a bit restless. If Mr. Yilmaz DARES show his face on these streets with his stupid coffee and his stupid accent, then I shall set him on fire. With a flamethrower.

7:02 AM
And throw his crispy remains under a bus.

7:06 AM
There is a group of people trying to get into the library. They seem rather excitable; how odd. No one around here gets this excited about books.
"The Library is closed." They aren't paying attention to me. I guess I'll have to go and order them off the property.
"The Library is CLOSED." They can see me now--at least, they're pointing at me and shouting--but they aren't leaving. I'll just open the door and--
They've broken through the glass of the door! I'm going to be murdered. This is the end. It wasn't enough that God sentence me to a jilted, broken heart. He had to have me sliced to death by an angry mob armed with broken glass. Death by the glass of my own library. The irony is astonishing.

7:10 AM
How dare they push an old woman like myself over like that! What if I was terribly frail? What if I had osteoporosis and they had snapped my brittle bones? Do they care? Who are these maniacs? I would ask, but they aren't very approachable.

7:12 AM
They're stealing books! MY books! The books that are supposed to be in the library! It's not a case of just a gap here and there--they're running off with whole shelves of books from the World Religions and Science sections. I will not stand for this!
So I'll just stay here under this study table until they've gone away and then call the police. With any luck the police will be the sort of neanderthals that are armed with cattle prods and are willing to use them against dangerous book thieves.

7:13 AM
They're singing...hymns? Yes... Hymns. Old ones.

"What can wash away my sin?
Nothing but the blood of Jeeee-sus./
What can make me whole again?
Nothing but the blood of Jeee-sus./
Oh, precious is the flow
that makes me white as snoooow./
No other fount I know,
Nothing but the blood of Jeeesus..."/

That brings back memories of the Southern Baptist Church. What are they doing out there?

What can wash away my sin?

They're piling books up behind the building. The chickens are nowhere to be seen; they've probably fluttered off in fear. Silly birds are smarter than I am.

Nothing but the blood of Jeee-sus.

I've seen films that have scenes like this; historical documentaries that come on in the evening on P.B.S. Books piled in huge masses; "unacceptable" books. The Nazis did book burnings; so has every other ignorant group.
Well whoever these bastards are, they're about to burn my books while they sing about their God, like it's his will to destroy knowledge.
Over my dead body. God's gonna have to tear down the whole damn library before I give up. See if his pathetic little mob of supporters can march seven times around my library.

What can make me whole again?

I'll tear them apart.

Nothing but the blood of Jeee-sus.

7:25 AM
I've got my umbrella. And an envelope opener. There's nothing else for it. CHARGE! I won't actually shout that, obviously, because I'm going to try and appeal to their better nature and howling and spearing their leader with an umbrella might make a bad impression.
"Excuse me? Excuse me, you can't burn those books. They're the property of the Public." I jabbed the man closest to me with my finger. It's taking a bit of effort not to prod him with the envelope opener.
The little prick is looking down at me like I'm sort of fungus growing on the ground. "Ma'am," he's saying, "We are the Public, and we're spreading the will of Gaw-ud. Please stay back. We're cleansing Satan from this town."
"Cleansing Satan? Are you an idiot?! They're books! Written by people!" I grabbed at one of the books off the pile--Buddha: A Journey of Haiku. "This is a bunch of poetry," I howled, but the man snatched the book back and threw it back into the pile.
"Light it!" He sounds and looks like a rabid vulture. If vultures could get rabies...
"Don't you DARE get a single candle near my--" but I was cut off as another man poured a gallon of gasoline on top and a young woman with a frighteningly benevolent smile on her face threw a lit match into the whole mess.
FWOOOM!!
More than anything else, I can feel the exothermic reaction of the hundreds, thousands, millions of pages, expelling light, heat, and sound--the skin on my face is stretched tight from the sudden influx of heat.

7:32 AM
"AIIIIIIIIIIGH!" I shall kill them all! Starting with this nitwit who ordered the burning! I swung my umbrella at him and conked him on the head.
A flash of light shot through the air, followed by a boom that rocked my arthritic bones. The mosque is on fire! It's been struck by lightening...
"HA!" I pointed up at the sky. "YOU MISSED, YOU MISSED!" God missed my library! He can have deluded minions try to burn my books, but he can't even hit the right building with his lightening! The Universe must be on my side! Perhaps this sudden pouring of rain will put out the fire!

7:35 AM
No such luck. There's too much gasoline for the fire to go out yet.
There's Macy! Macy! Oh, I'm so glad to see her--
"MACY! Macy, help! They're burning the books!" I abandoned my whalloping of the man to wave my arms at her and beckon. She's coming! And running at another of the men! I knew she cared about the library books. SHE'S TACKLED HIM! YESSS!
"Good, Macy, keep it up--" Oh dear. Her hair's on fire. "Macy, just put your head under one of the gutters--" She's not listening, the silly girl. Nevermind. Someone will sort her out. I need to finish teaching these ignoramouses that books are for being neatly lined on shelves, not burning.

7:37 AM
The prostitutes from the antique shop have gone insane. They're out here in bathrobes and little else--and by little I mean...nothing...--and they're flinging alchohol onto the flames! FEEDING THE FIRE! There are too many of them. Too many...

Oh, precious is the flow,
that makes me white as snooow.

And they won't stop singing--they've thrown a couple rocks at me, but no matter what, they won't stop... The homeless men have joined in, too. The lyrics aren't difficult. Perhaps that's why Christianity succeeded so well; easy lyrics, easy tune, something you can learn when you're drunk as a drowned pansy.

It's flashing again--lightening? No--it's camera flashes. What are those little Japanese people doing? Good heavens. They're from that tour bus by Jorri Rae's. What kind of person would come here as a tourist? I have half a mind to beat them with my umbrella for treating this like some kind of performance. Why aren't they helping?! All they can do is stand there and take flash picture after flash picture, capturing this crime forever in pouring rain. What a contrast. Roaring flames while it's raining cats and dogs.

No other fount I know...

I can't see Macy. I'm here by myself, swinging my broken umbrella for a pile of books that don't love me any more than my own daughter does. I'm soaking wet, my umbrella's spokes are all bent out of shape, and yet the fire is still burning and they're still singing.
One of the prostitutes is pouring a whole bottle of whiskey on the fire. What can I do but watch the flames dance higher, reflecting eerily off of individual raindrops, the crackle of the swiftly incinerating books blending into the violent hiss of rain smacking against the pavement? My shoulders can heave and I can sob and I can scream at them all I want, and they probably wouldn't even be able to tell in this downpour.

7:42 AM
My umbrella is useless now. It's too broken. I'll leave it in the dumpster behind the library. I'm going home.

Nothing but the blood of Jeee-sus.