The Dusty Bookshelf Novels & Stories

Kellan Aspyn and I organize those that clean the very large archives, and we spend the whole day directing a large number of maids to dust book after book and scroll after scroll. The chamber echoes with the soft rustle of cloths, the occasional creak of ladders, and the steady murmur of instructions as we move from one towering shelf to another. Dust motes dance in the beams of light filtering through the high windows, turning the air thick and hazy for hours.

My body was betraying me and not allowing me to think straight. ‘Okay,’ I exhaled slowly, ‘so, we have books on this shelf here but also some in that box over there,’ I pointed to the box with a lid on it. ‘What book is it you’re looking for?’ Pacing over to a clipboard hanging on the side of the rustic bookshelf, I pulled it off its hook and scanned it briefly. It had a detailed list of all the books we had, even going into depth with details of any damage to the books. Everett ignored me and scanned the bookshelf, ‘Hmm…’

Or worse—pathetic. He walked over to the corner of the room and pointed toward a dusty bookshelf, the kind with little compartments for trinkets and framed photos. “You see that?” he said, gesturing toward it. “I used to dust that thing every single day. Religiously. Like some neurotic routine. I couldn’t even think straight if I saw a layer of dust collecting there. Used to drive me nuts.” He let out a bitter chuckle, brushing his fingers across the dusty wood. “And now? It’s been days. I don’t even care. I haven’t touched it.”

Dante tried to hand Mj the book but she jerked away from it like it might actually hurt her, “I don't want to read that thing...I learned enough about it in school and I’m sure the truth is far worse.” Dante tendlry climbed the thick wood bookshelves to replace the book then he motioned for Mj to follow him up. Mj shook her head, “no way, didn't anybody ever tell you not to climb shelves.” Dante let his head fall back and he laughed, “these technically aren't shelves kitten, they are cut into the wall so don't worry about it.”

My heart leaped with hope as I approached the section, quickly pulling out a few volumes. “Well, here goes nothing,” I murmured to myself, selecting a particularly dusty tome. The book was heavy and worn, its cover adorned with faded gold lettering. I wiped away the dust and carefully opened it, the pages crackling softly in the silence. The satisfying scent of aged paper filled my nostrils, evoking a sense of ancient wisdom and forgotten knowledge.

Just expensive furniture and abstract art that looked chosen to impress rather than express. I passed through the living room, my attention drawn to a large bookshelf covering one wall. The collection impressed me—ancient texts on pack history, rare volumes on wolf magic, modern novels organized by genre rather than author. Many of the books looked unread, their spines uncreased. One leather-bound book caught my eye—its dark cover embossed with strange symbols that resembled no language I recognized. I reached for it, but it refused to budge. Odd. I tried again, pulling harder. The book remained firmly in place, as if glued to the shelf.

Chapter 11 The scent of aged parchment and dust filled the dimly lit room, thick enough to choke on. Shelves lined every wall, stuffed with old tomes that hadn’t been touched in centuries. We'd been searching for the ancient text for hours—yet nothing. George let out a frustrated growl and slumped into a chair beside a cluttered table. I shot him a glare while flipping through the last few pages of the book in my hand. Useless. With a sharp snap, I shut the cover and walked toward him.

She approached Dryzza carefully, not wanting to disrupt her train of thought in the hallowed silence. Dryzza glanced up briefly before returning her gaze to the floor. "It’s odd," she muttered, crouching to run a finger over the surface. She examined the fine layer of dust—or rather, the absence of it—and rubbed her fingertips together as if the texture could speak. "This library has been untouched for decades. Dust should cover every inch of this floor, and yet this spot looks recently cleaned."

Cobwebs and litter of dust spread all over the place. I think it's an underground library, also based on the look, structure, and books placed here. We reached the lowest part of the stairs,, but I feel like I am choking here underground, lacking the oxygen that provides for my needs. “Are—” “Shhh”, I put my finger in my mouth, gesturing him to not speak as we heard footsteps above. They started to raid the whole place searching for us. I tried not to cough from the dust flying, joining the air we breathe. Cobwebs are also hanging in different corners of the room and the books seemed to unopened for so long. I walk in the shelves nearest my standing place, trying to divert my attention. I tr

Dust rose into the air, making me cough. Nothing about the shadows. Nothing about Milandra. Nothing at all. Just endless words about trade, laws, treaties, and royal births. I slammed another book shut. “This is pointless,” I muttered under my breath. My temper snapped. I turned and kicked the lower part of one of the shelves. Hard. The sound echoed like thunder through the empty study. And then—something moved. A soft thud broke the silence. I looked up just in time to see a book fall from the very top shelf. It hit my shoulder before dropping to the floor.