50 Word Stories: The Difference Between

I loved the library, I’d have lived there if I could. I’d run my fingers through the piled dust pretending it snow formed from crumpled pages. I lived every word, felt every memory. When those uneducated apes burnt it down, I felt them still. That was the difference between us.

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6 thoughts on “50 Word Stories: The Difference Between

  1. Damn those dirty apes! Damn them all to hell!
    Your musings have moved me, sir. Well, your words usually move me. But it is a rare occasion such as this that my mind actually manages to get it together to produce a worthwhile sentence or two. Therefore I cannot help but write you a short reflective note.
    Your familiar words have fallen on a kindred, sympathetic ear. Furthermore the photo of those grand shelves brought my mind back to a time long thought forgotten. I too relish and revere older libraries.
    A life time or two ago I used to haunt an 18th century castle/ stately-home come tourist attraction in Leicestershire. My favourite rooms were the dual-interconnecting-libraries. A bubble of serenity and peace, row upon row, shelf upon shelf of stockpiled knowledge and inspiration, romances, histories and high adventures. Ancient leather jackets, elegantly scripted spines and the tell-tale signs of interests revisited written in the mounting dust. And I too would have lived there if I could. And I do believe the place burned down at least a couple of times too.
    Even though these hallowed walls were relegated to a mere fleeting manifestation of history, culture and sophistication to be winked at in droves by flashing technologies, I still felt it compulsory to greet the herds of lowing tourists galumphing through my bubble with the requisite gesture: finger to the lips and an almost imperceptibly quiet- ‘Shhhh’

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