The Library Tunnel (Original Short)

The Bucksport Library is that favorite place of mine that I rarely remember unless I’m walking by it or I want a certain book that I’m not willing to pay money for. It’s how I think all libraries should be; quiet and almost completely devoid of life. Over a hundred and fifty years old, the tiny library still used the card system and had only two computers. You could check out as many books as you could carry out to your car, or you could just sit down in an aisle and read. The library would stay open as long as someone was reading.

It was a place where Twilight was considered an adult book, and the YA bookshelves were decorated in cobwebs, but for some reason, that just seemed to add to its charm.

I had graduated high school only a few minutes before, and for old times’ sake, I went to the YA section, fingering the spines of my favorite books over the years. I paused, finding a book I had never seen before. As far as I knew, the only additions to the library in the last twenty years were all popular bestsellers that everyone had already seen the movie of. But this book was a simple leather-bound book, barely an inch thick. It had no title, and I wondered if someone had forgotten their journal and the librarian had mistaken it for a fallen book.

I pulled it out and then the wall opened up,revealing a dark and narrow tunnel that seemed to go on forever. I ran inside just as the wall slid shut behind me. There wasn’t any way to go but forward. So I grinned and started jogging.

The tunnel behind me lit up,showing pictures and stories. Heartbreaks, victories, and lazy days listening to the Beatles. But the tunnel in front of me remained dark, except for the next step in front of me.

Several times the tunnel split into forks and I turned, choosing on an impulse. I kept running into the unknown, memories lighting up brighter than stars behind me.

At the end of the tunnel was a door, old and well-worn by hands and weather. I pushed it open and came out on a deserted highway. There was a lone sign telling me where I was, covered in dirt and partially hidden by evergreens: Leaving Bucksport. I stepped forward, my choice already made. I touched the sign for good luck and ran out of Bucksport, into the dark unknown, my path illuminated behind me.


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