Wilmington North Carolina Library Novels & Stories

I wish I could ask Adam, but the last time I flung questions his way, he was caught off-guard by them. After school, I make my way to the Waindale Library with directions from Grandma. It isn't far from the high school, like most things, and I find myself at the eclectic place just as the sky turns wet. The glass doors give in against my weight, and I wander into the cozy room, up to a barren counter. "Uh, hello?" I call out softly. My eyes detour around the library as I wait, seeing only an older woman sat at a table with a few books splayed out. Large bookshelves stand in rows behind her.

Rico opened a door and we entered a large and spacious room. A library. Shelfs and Shelfs of books covered the four corner of the library. I saw books from authors like William Shakespeare, Robert frost, Michelle Alexander all first editions. "This is one of Vince's favorite place in the house, when he isn't busy which is really rare, he comes to the library for some peace and quiet." Rico said. I knew that already, when Vince and I lived together, whenever I didn't find him in his office, he was always in the library or our bedroom.

He chose not to, he preferred to live a private life because life has been cruel to him. Aiden stationed the SUV at the parking lot, Lynette looked at her wristwatch before she stepped out of the car. It was 9:45 am. The Library opens at 10 am and she could see some students dawdling at the corner of the building. Aiden saw the town's flag that was attached to the top of the one-story building as it swept from left to right. The Library was beautiful, surrounded by hedges, and a plain field covered with grasses, the founding fathers of this town did a good job by renovating most of the old buildings and encouraging the afforestation of silver birch trees which had a high population in Arcadi

The fog in Blackwood didn’t just drift; it crawled. It clung to the jagged pine trees and muffled the sound of the Atlantic crashing against the cliffs below. For most, the town was a damp, forgotten prison. For Elena, it was a fortress. She sat in the corner of the "Blackwood Public Library," a drafty stone building that smelled of damp parchment and cedar. Her name tag read Claire Vance. Her wedding ring was gone, replaced by a cheap silver band she’d bought at a gas station.