The Woman In The Library Novels & Stories

She locked the door instantly. "You're the wife of the congressman. I knew there was something familiar about you." The older woman said as she turned to me. I search around fanatically, scared that there might be some policemen here and the woman is about to hand me over. "Oh, no, don't worry. You're safe here for now." The woman reassured me, giving me a kind smile. "I'm a customer at the Library and I know you're a good woman, Mina. I figured a woman like you must have a reason why she doesn't want to be found."

Alice left when she was done. Maria held the book she had gotten from the library and walked out of the room. Her steps were hurried as she moved to the library. Freye was the only one who could give her the truth. As she entered the library, there was an unfamiliar man seated behind the desk. Librarian perhaps. He raised his head from his book as he sighted her. “What brings you here dear?” She stretched out the book on mating rituals and mate bonds. “I came to return this and borrow another.”

My name is Angela. I’m 28, single, and hopelessly addicted to the quiet escape of books. That’s why, three times a week, I slip into this little library tucked between a coffee shop and a dry cleaner on a side street in Lower Manhattan. It’s always half-empty — dusty shelves, soft lamplight, the faint smell of old paper and polished wood. I love it. No one bothers you here. Or so I thought. That afternoon I was deep into a worn paperback when my bladder protested. I approached the circulation desk, smiling at the librarian — a severe woman in her fifties with silver hair pinned tight.

Mary nodded without lifting her eyes from her book, her brow furrowed in concentration. I turned and began walking down the long aisle, my hands shoved deep into my pockets as I searched for the floor's restroom sign. I hadn't gone very far when I spotted one of the library workers. She was a middle-aged woman, methodically slotting heavy hardcovers back onto the lower shelves. The plastic employee badge hung from a colorful lanyard around her neck, tapping against her vest. "Excuse me," I said quietly as I approached. She paused, a thick book held midway between her hands and the shelf, and turned her head to look up at me.

I could not help but ask, “You’re my best friend. He’s my husband. Why are you doing this to me?” Janelle laughed and then walked toward me. Then, she took off her clothes. I saw her chest. It turned out that she was… I had never seen her body before, so I did not know what she looked like. After I saw it, someone appeared in my head! It was the woman with Jason at the massage parlor! I had never seen her face clearly, so I had not expected her to be my best friend! When I saw her body with my own eyes, it matched up with the other woman the other day.

She looked up. A woman she had never seen before. Older. Maybe seventy. White hair cut close. The posture of a woman who had once been someone significant and had never quite stopped, the particular uprightness of a person who carries themselves as if the space they occupy has always been theirs by right. She had a book in her own lap. She looked at Sophia for a moment, then looked down at it. The library was quiet. "You are running out of time," the woman said. Quietly. Without looking up. "He has decided to stay."

🫠Overdue and Overwhelmed 🫠 Thompson’s POV “Mr. Thompson, this is the third time this month you’ve returned books late.” I froze halfway through the quiet university library at 10:47 PM. Jolene Adam stood behind the main desk, arms crossed under her full breasts, looking at me over the rim of her black-framed glasses. The head librarian was the definition of sexy and strict. She was in her mid-thirties, wearing a tight pencil skirt and crisp white blouse that struggled to contain her chest, and dark hair pinned up with a few rebellious strands falling around her face.

“You’ll never have to find out.” The following day, Lyra found herself in the library, surrounded by ancient tomes and scrolls. The witch, an enigmatic woman named Valeria, sat across from her, her sharp green eyes scanning a worn leather-bound book. Valeria’s presence was both soothing and unsettling - her air of calm intelligence tempered by a sense of hidden power.

“I need to check something, “I said, already getting up. “Where are you going?” “To find the truth.” The library was hidden between two shops, like it didn’t want to be found. The sign was faded, and the door was old and creaking. Inside, the air was thick and dusty, and the shelves leaned as if they were tired. “Hello?” I called out. For a moment, nothing. Then an old woman stepped forward. Silver hair braided down her back, straight posture, and her eyes, green, sharp, glowing emerald. Eyes that made me feel as if she could see every thought I had.

With that decided for her day, she walk herself towards the library. It is like a common library that has a librarian who wears glasses with thin eyebrows and excess makeup. Well, at least that is one thing alike from their world. "Good morning! I would like to borrow books about the history of the Kingdom." The woman look over her glasses and darted her eyes on her. Then she clicks her tongue, writing something on a pad and tearing a page, handing it to her. "The farthest shelf," she says, her lips were right apart, her gums and teeth showing.