58th Street Library Novels & Stories

" Liam asked as he pushed the files away and spun his chair around. Once a day he made it his mission to unwind by watching the panoramic view of the city. It's unparalleled, especially at night, when all the lights set the sky on fire. "Check the chat; it's blowing up with her photos. Did you know she has a toddler?" Julian asked. "Every male, single and otherwise, from the 15th floor up, has already called dibs on her. They love her librarian aesthetic. I can see why. I mean it's every guy's dream to fuck the local librarian." "And the only reason the rest haven't is because they're not in our group chats," Matthew's eyes shone with amusement. Various businesses, startups and corporates oc

“You don’t remember, do you? Let me tell you the rest of the story myself.” J Across from your law library was Washington Square park—a beautiful New York City park with elm trees, highlighted by the circular fountain in the middle and the Washington Square Arch near the Fifth Avenue entrance. You remember it, yes? The park, a tourist attraction, and a place for owners to run their dogs, was once a potter’s field for indigent, yellow fever victims and, as legend had it, home of an ancient elm tree that served as gallows. That, you didn’t know, little plaçage, did you? But some place, deep down, you must have sensed it.

In fact, she was raising her hand to emphasize that she was on a busy street in Mareco, only if Hadley could see her. Hadley pauses, "okay…" Serena recognized the tone, she was doubting her. "FaceTime then? Where are you?" "Ugh...I can't do that now, this place is busy as hell, maybe not so busy in the afternoon, I guess because it's sunny. I just got out of a library. The Citizens Library, did I tell you about it?" She paused to know if Hadley was following. "Yeah, I guess…but why would you be going to a library anyway. I don't think rich billionaires go to libraries, they own them in their mansions! You need to go to the parties, the functions, the clubs!" Hadley ranted, a hint of mockery

“Do you think the bookstore next to Wixon still has it?” Valencia leaned on the kitchen counter near the sink, tapping her fingers on the ceramic surface. “Yeah, trust me the last time I visited that bookstore down on 2nd street was 2 days ago. it was a recent visit so I’m sure they still have a few left in the Non-fiction section.” The voice on the phone said.

She looked nothing like the old librarian she was used to with her big spectacles and prominent wrinkles on her forehead. “G-good morning, ma’am!” Millie greeted the lady with a timid smile. The librarian lowered her specs and studied Millie like she was a police officer. “What can I do for you missy?” The lady spoke in a harsh tone which seemed natural for her. “Uh… I was just wondering, is the book called, The Art of Poetry available right now, ma’am?” Millie asked her. “The Art of Letting Go is the only one available, but if you want to see it in the big picture, you can just go into the movie house…” The lady blurted out, chuckling a bit.

She put the compass back in her pocket. Took his hand. They stood on the corner of Atlantic and 4th in Brooklyn and watched the ground open and something begin. The Thomas Emmanuel Brooks Library. Three names on a door that had not been built yet. Three generations arriving at one corner. And a woman standing in the middle of it all. Her father's daughter. All the way through. Still. And always.

I think I know what it is. I set the policy document down. Tell me, I sent it back. A pause. Then: Not over text. Too long. Tomorrow, library, second floor, usual table, eight AM? Eight AM, I confirmed. Bring coffee, she sent. The good kind. Not the café. Where do I get the good kind at eight AM? Another pause. There's a place on the south road. Small. Blue awning. Opens at six-thirty. Elias took me there in July. Get the medium roast. Tell them it's for the Research Wing.

Gareth said, bringing Vera’s thought back to her body. They had rounded too many bends and were standing at the edge of yet another empty street. But just some stone throw away was the white glamming structure of the most beautiful Library, Vera had ever seen. The structure glowed the morning sun, standing elegantly on the middle of the street as if it had grown out from the earth itself. The yellow pillars that held the high roof were the only thing that contrasted to the perfectly white structure. “Wow,” Bola eyes widened with awe and respect.

“But before then, I want to make something clear. They say an eye for an eye,” He darted his gaze to me. “What are you insinuating?” His lips began to tremble. “Your wife, Matilda Fester works as a librarian across the street. Your twin girls, Mary and Martha attend St. Charles Elementary school in Barrow Street which is like an hour drive away from here,” I began. Fester’s eyes grew in size.

We moved across Manhattan's rooftops as two silent shadows with the city below us, a haze of color and light. We reached the New York Public Library on 5th Avenue and like ancient sentinels, the two enormous statues of Lions : Patience and Fortitude stood still at the entrance. It was a temple of knowledge to the thousands of people who visited it each day. But for my kind, it served as the entrance to our coven for years. Slipping through a covert side door, we descended into the quiet deep archives of the library. Elias led the way to an old forgotten map wall and then pressed three points in a particular order on the stone.