Marple: The Body In The Library Novels & Stories

Marry said and started walking before Angela asked her something. Angela took her phone and started following her. Marry lead her to the second floor then went towards a white door. "It is the library," Marry said and opened the door then went inside. Angela looked at the door and saw something written above the door. Angela went a little close to read the words. My little dream world Angela read it. "Ma'am, come inside" Marry called her. Angela entered the library and as Marry said indeed it is a big library. The room was full of books. And a beautiful flower-decorated chair was beside the window. It was a glass window.

“Thanks for meeting us, Greg,” I shake the hand of Crystal Lake’s lead guard. He’s an intimidating guy with light blue eyes and a buzz cut. His long sleeve shirt is an attempt to look professional, but he can’t hide the tattoos on his oversized hands and thick neck. “Anytime, Marshall. The human library is an odd choice, but I get it. Neutral ground, like you were saying.” He shrugs and looks around. Behind him, a mother is ushering her child, who is pointing at Greg, into the library. “I’m glad to hear you’re okay.”

Their lands looked much the same as ours, forestry surrounding the borders, only to clear when a small town was approaching. Marnie turned down the music as she pulled into a packed carpark. Before I could adjust my ears again I could already feel the thump of music softly kicking my eardrums. Amara whined as she retreated to a quiet corner of my mind, she had already been through enough in the car. As I turned to read the sign of the building I was outside of I stopped frozen. "Um, Marns?" "Yeah?" "Why are we at a library?", as I looked at the building before me I noticed how run down and inconspicuous it looked. The sign I had read literally said "The Library", yet I could hear music.

SHARON’S POV I never imagined I would step foot into the royal library for anything other than sneaking in to read fantasy novels I had no business touching. The irony wasn’t lost on me as I sat at the long mahogany table now, a stack of heavy history books in front of me, none of which had dragons, witches, or star-crossed lovers on the covers. The head historian, Elder Marcellus, cleared his throat for what felt like the hundredth time. The man was ancient, his white beard reached almost to his stomach, and he had the habit of adjusting his spectacles every two sentences even when they didn’t need adjusting.

He bolted out of the library leaving the glass as it crumbled in my hand. The second the plant was exposed to air, it disintegrated and gave off a strong sweet but acrid scent. I tossed the plant to the ground but I had already inhaled part of it. It burned down my trachea like acid. I stumbled out of the library coughing to try and get some of it out of my system. “What the hell did you do?” Marble's voice came from a distance. I raised my head to see her, but my vision blurred. My knees buckled to the ground.

Farther in, a door sighed shut with the politeness of someone trying not to wake a sleeping house. I wasn’t looking for anyone. I told myself that. I was going to the library to work through footnotes and fix two sentences in my draft that insisted on being melodramatic. But when I reached the mezzanine, I heard voices in the library—low, careful, the kind of pitch men use when the truth is fragile and the walls are good listeners. Marco. Leo.

Marianne nodded and apologized, “I’m sorry I forgot to tell you about the rules.” “No, I read that in the document I was given. I should have carried it with me.” “Okay, I’ll be quick,” Marianne said and went inside the library. As Julianne waited for Marianne to be done, she could not help but think about the bite marks she saw on her neck earlier. She wondered how many more people must have fallen victim and how many have been compelled. The library woman was back to reading her novel and Julianne could hear her giggle at something that must have been funny. Marianne came back shortly but without the book she wanted to borrow. She walked to the desk of the woman and pretended to cough agai

The Nun In The Library I IN the library, dust motes danced in the lone shaft of light that shone through the stained-glass window, illuminating the rows of bookshelves that were properly lined in the back. Sister Mary, her habit a stark silhouette against the warm glow, traced a finger along the spine of a theological text. The scent of old paper and beeswax polish clung to the air, a familiar comfort that came when she was reading books. Today, however, an unfamiliar tremor rippled beneath her skin. A new scent, sharp and vital, cut through the accustomed quiet: sandalwood and something else, something musky and undeniably male.

The household had boiled down to the bare necessities: warmth, food, and the certain kind of closeness that people experience when they are cooped up together and trying to make the best out of the situation. "Marco had a library, " he said. "He has always had a library - the east wing, floor to ceiling, with a rolling ladder on a brass rail. He had been collecting since before he was married and the room smelled of paper and leather and the specific smell of books that have been read many times. He maintained a fire all through winter and there were chairs around it and it was the kind of room where you could disappear for an afternoon and nobody would be surprised if you were still there a

owned by the Aethel-Group. And we were standing in the middle of the floor, the "Draft" of our world lying like a crumpled piece of paper at our feet. --- ### The Library of Lost Souls Rowan, Selene, and the survivors stood on the polished marble floor of the Library. They looked tiny amidst the towering shelves. The air here was still and smelled of ancient leather and cold electricity. In the distance, we heard the sound of alarms. Red lights began to pulse at the end of the aisles.