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We pulled up in front of a beautiful brownstone building. When I got out of the car I stared up at it, in admiration and thought it was everything a library should be. It was an enormous brick building with white columns. It looked filled with history as much as I expected the books inside were. I was mesmerized as Matt and I started our trek up the cement stairs, holding onto the railing at opposite sides of the steps, a safe distance away from each other.
The curiosity was consuming. Matt hasn't let us stop for almost two days. We've been taking turns driving while the other one slept, only making stops at the roadside restrooms and fast food restaurants to freshen up and to eat. The first time he wants to drive into civilization and it's to go to the library.
We reached the front doors which looked like they were made of a heavy wood, like oak, but were surprisingly easy to open. When we got inside I saw Matt focusing in on the ancient computer in the back. He turned back to me, "It says there's a philosophy section on the second floor. I know how you like that stuff." Before walking over to the computer, he looked around with a pained expression as if it physically hurt him to be in a library and surrounded by so many books. I rolled my eyes at that before heading up to the second story. I could tell he appreciated this library as much as I did, by the way he took it all in when we first arrived. We had plenty of history in Hawthorne, our hometown. None of it beautiful, though, only old.
The second floor was filled with shelves of old books that smelled perfectly musky. They weren't dusty, though and in perfect shape. Someone had spent a lot of time preserving them to what looked liked their almost original condition. It was obviously that someone's obsession.
This place was my idea of heaven and being here was one of those moments in my life I expected to hear a chorus of angels singing, but in my case it would be John Lennon, lead vocal and Tim and Joe from the Eagles, playing bass and guitar. I looked around and started pulling books off the shelves with dorky enthusiasm.
After flipping through a book about Greek philosophers for fifteen minutes I took another book off the top of my stack. What it was about had caught my attention. Secret societies. I was so concentrated on reading about a society called Red Men, I didn't even notice another presence until the frail, elderly woman was two feet away from me. I immediately felt uncomfortable, but she didn't seem to think that her sudden proximity to a stranger was the least bit strange. She just gave me a toothy smile and a cheery, "Hello, dear."
"Hi." I said awkwardly. She inched closer. Seeing what I was reading she said, "A girl after my own heart. Secret societies are my subject of choice. You know, I can name the origin of a secret society anywhere in the country. Oh, and some in Western Europe. Where are you from, hun?" I never met someone so old that talked a mile a minute like that. I was curious to know, though. "Faulkner, Maryland." I told her. It was close enough to Hawthorne. "Oh, dear" was all she said. "What?" I asked, standing up. "Devreaux. They are the most coveted and malevolent secret society on the east coast." She spoke in a whisper, like someone might overhear. I knew of Devreaux, but never of their dark nature. I needed to ask Matt about it. I told the lady that I had to go abruptly. I already reached the stairs when she called out, "Be careful!" Her voice was filled with so much concerned and for someone she didn't even know. It was unsettiling. Surely, a society my mother's father belonged to wasn't as bad as the old lady made it out to be.
Ooh! Another secret! Now I am wondering...what are all these secrets about? Each a different part and so unrelated. In this one I liked the last part very much. And yeah I did not go to your linked up url. So I will be reviewing solely on this story.
Firstly, I have noticed that you write these pieces without passion. And somehow cannot help but think that you have purposely avoided details so as to give this more suspense. I am not saying that you are very insensitive and all. Some how it makes me feel as if you don' t pour your heart out while writing. Maybe writing without feeling restricted would do some wonders.
Secondly, I loved the way you described the library. The thing is that in this story; there are too much details and that too about insignificant stuff. You could maybe give description regarding how they looked like. Alssmo many things could be done to it to make it a nice story.
Third and lastly, I hope you do something about this. I feel that whatever you wrote...everything was good..styles, use of english, etc. But to tell that is a story would not be right as it would barely pass as one. Keep writing!