Why Oliver had a Gun.
"It happened in the library," the anxious teen with messy hair said. His hands fidgeted nervously in his handcuffs.
"I thought you said it happened on falcon street?" the older man said, running his fingers in his salt-pepper hair.
"Y-yeah, Elena got hurt on falcon street. But it...it happened in the library," the teen boy stammered.
"Oliver, what happened in the library? Is that where you got the weapon?"
Oliver seemed to ignore the older mans question. "She texted me saying she was at the cafe. I ran there." Oliver's eyes filled with tears.
"When you arrived, how did she look? How was she speaking?" the older man said, trying not to look at Oliver's sad eyes.
"She was...she was so bloody. She was so cold. She wasn't wearing a jacket. She was stuttering and she was shaking. She didn't tell me where she got the gun. She didn't explain it! Her top lip was split and blood was caked all over her mouth. She was hiding it."
The older man took a step closer to Oliver. "What was she hiding?"
The teenager began to sob. Memories were so painful to recover, and the fear of what was going to happen to him was too much. "She was hiding everything from me. She hid the abuse. She hid the cuts and bruises. She hid everything. That is where I got the gun."
"Did she hand the gun to you, or did you tackle her for it?"
"She handed it to me. We started walking around. I...I whispered to her and I comforted her on the blue bench at the park. I told her about the other choices. I thought of all the ways I could help a suicidal person. I told her about my mom when we passed the cemetery. I really thought she listened. She handed me the gun when I walked her home. I thought-" Oliver stopped speaking. His heart pounded while he thought of that night. He tried not to open this box in his memory. He tried to keep this locked.
"So, you took the gun and you thought it would be okay to bring to the library?"
"Yes! I took the gun from her. I'm so stupid. I didn't know she had another. I thought she was okay." Oliver started to whisper, his voice hoarse from sobbing. He was shaking, saying words he didn't dare to let himself think. "I didn't know what was happening. I didn't ask. I thought she would tell me later. I thought there would be a later. I'm so stupid."
"Oliver." The man went closer, whispering softly. "It's okay."
"So that is why I had a gun in my backpack, and that is why Elena has a bullet in her head." His voice cracked and shook. "Does that answer your question?"
They were quiet for a moment. "Why did you say it happened in the library?"
"After I got the gun, I went to my friend Blake's house. Then we went to the library to work on some homework. And then I get a phone call saying Elena was shot in the head, and I stayed at the library for a long, long time, and you police come and you check my backpack, and," he gestured towards the older man, "I am accused of shooting her."
They were both quiet for a moment. "You know why you were a suspect, right? I didn't know the story. I'm sorry for your loss."
"It's all my fault," Oliver whispered, mainly to himself. He looked down at the handcuffs.
"Suicide is a choice, and it is no ones fault," the police said, sitting down for the first time since the conversation started.
"It wasn't suicide! Her abusive boyfriend shot her in the head. It adds up," Oliver began to sob again. "I had the first gun. I thought I talked her out of suicide. I didn't know she was going to get shot anyways. I didn't know her boyfriend would kill her. The cuts weren't self inflicted. She was getting hurt by someone, and I felt proud for thinking I made a difference. I took away a gun that she didn't even want to use. I took away the gun she ripped out of her boyfriends hands before she ran to the cafe. I walked her home to the house where she was killed."
Oliver began to whisper, his eyes wild. He spoke faster. "I didn't know! I was at the library when she got shot. I was at the library all night. I was in shock. I was there when," he shuffled his shoulders so the cuts showed, "her boyfriend found me. He forced me to shut up. He carved my sin into me. He told me not to say anything!"
"Oliver," the police offer said. He ran his hand in his salt-pepper hair, a sign of stress. "We interrogated her boyfriend. This doesn't add up."
"I'm so sorry. I couldn't save her. I didn't even know what was wrong. It's my fault." The teenage boy was no longer crying. His voice was numb and stoical.
The police looked at his paperwork. He hasn't written anything down yet. "What was your relation with Elena?"
"I was her best friend. I am such a bad friend," Oliver began to cry again. "Please let me go. I told you why I had a weapon, now let me leave please. Let me go home." Oliver thought of her last words before she went inside her house. "I'll be okay."
Later that summer, Oliver was found with a gunshot wound in his head, categorized as suicide. Elena's boyfriend left town a week later.
From the Pages
It happened in the library
fleshed hands reached out
bent spines of books
opening for lost souls
to climb out
recreate indignities
of murderous times
misspent youth
and psychopathic pasts
marching in ranks
two by two
searching
for random victims
bloodcurdling cries
crimson stains
couldn’t escape
lure of mystery
and mayhem
reincarnation
of Bundies
and Mansons
stalking into lives
to repeat the past -
library doors locked
no escape.
The Repository
Characters come to life. Sentenced to live among the leaves of the spine. They cannot escape the paragraphs, forever trapped within the covers.
Strangled, estranged, livid, lucid, they prance and pose, enter, and exit the prose.
Books are beautiful.
Books explode and implode with meaning, interpretations, permutations, endless speculation.
They say mankind, civilization really began with writing. Perhaps, it will find its untimely demise through words.
The future. A word that holds the promise that there is hope for us all. I look forward to a future where all humans are equal. But just like words, no two men or women are identical, and each combine, working together, to tell a story.
This is why I love libraries.
Thousands of individuals, dead and alive, all under the same roof. For every sentence that surfaced, hundreds remained trapped, confined, cast away by self-imposed exile into the confines of the imagination. For every immortal, millions will remained obscured, forgotten, left to long for an audience that will never know their beauty and ugliness.
Will I be loved? loathed?
Will I ever feel alive?
Trip to the Library
I journeyed to the library,
Where there I metaphrase,
I’d never met a phrase like her,
She had me in a daze!
She took me to her grammar’s house,
Where there, I met her brothers,
Who were together a paradox,
Ah, and there began my troubles,
They both had their PhD.,
It seems, in examining me,
All they did was ask me questions,
It seemed such a parody!
There I also met her sister,
Who moved me, in ways I should not say,
Her name was Metamucil,
I have a gut feeling still, about her today,
I knew though, with my metaphrase,
It soon would turn metaphysical,
If only I knew where to take my cue,
I’d put a little English on her grammar too!
Old grammar I knew, held the key to her heart,
If I only could gain her trust,
I’d win the heart of metaphrase,
And never would we part.
But old grammar’s a tough old nut,
With a cover bound like an old book,
She’d never put her trust in me,
Or give me a second look,
Somehow I’d have to figure a way,
To learn to read her pages,
Then figure out how old grammar ticked,
To win her trust for the ages
I still had one or two tricks,
That might just open that door,
And win the trust of grammar,
It’ll knock her on the floor!
She had an old pet dogma,
A pure-bred that’s for sure!
She followed that dogma all the time,
Though that dogma’s more her cur!
So I catered to that silly dogma,
That I really felt was absurd,
He rode inside my karma,
There that dogma left a turd,
At least it pleased old grammar,
So she took me on my word,
When I professed my love, for metaphrase,
Which of course, she had already heard,
So it was with her grammar’s blessing,
That I courted metaphrase.
And of course, we soon got metaphysical,
In so many creative ways!
Although her brothers were a paradox,
They were also a pair of creeps,
Who used to spy upon us,
Taking turns, taking their peeks!
But deeds like that, all soon get punished,
And it was no different in this case,
The police were alerted to their nefarious hobby,
They were both caught red-handed and red-faced.
The police had also caught them,
With a paragraphic photos!
They were a paradox quite shocking,
Partaking in their paranormal pleasures!
This shaggy dogma of a tale,
It has a happy ending,
For metaphrase and I were wed,
And in a few weeks you’ll be pleased to hear,
…Another metaphor, is pending.
© BAM
shhh..... were in the library
it happened in the library
when I stuck my hand in the bookcase
I found this world
this alter reality
it pulled me through a fairytale of words
it filled my head with
food for knowledge
it ignited a fire
to devour
the paper
to rip and tear
at the foundation
of perception
to escape from the bullies
on the school playground
to become the main character
in the storyline
living through the words
experiencing the knee scraped emotions
the fake first kisses
the heated climax
of pulsing heartbeats
peaking at the ultimate end
living in between the sentences
where time
is inconsistent
where actions speak louder than words
where the reader becomes the knight
where spine chilling feelings of wants and needs
are fulfilled
where the moon and sun
merge into one whole day
where afterlife exists everytime
the page is turned
It happened in the library
when I fell in love with words
the power to bring the dead to life
where the period is not the end
but the begining to something beautiful
The Librarian.
It happened in the library. In the quiet hours...
Usually the library clears fast once the bell has rang. People wanting to get home. Watch their favourite programmes or hang out with their friends.
But the two lads lurking in the shadows at the back had other ideas.
They weren't ready to leave. They wanted to play a game with sweet goody two shoes Librarian. The one and only Ellie Lowes. Ellie Lowes that believes she's better than everybody else.
The girl that covers her curvy body in loose clothes and always says no. The girl that looks down her nose at you through those thick wired glasses.
They know she wants it.
And they pull down their masks as they hear her approach the back of the library.
She hums whilst placing books back on the correct shelves. Innocently finishing her day before she goes home to relax the way she knows how.
They know she might cry when they rip the clothes from her soft supple flesh. And they understand she might fight. Shout and plead for Mercy.
But they also know that they will do what they set out to do. They will make her human. They will defile her and humiliate her so that she wants, even craves their approval.
They know how it works. Michael himself had searched up the act of bdsm. He knows now, how to tie her up with the length of rope in his bag.
He knows how to gag her with the scarf he personally knotted up. He even knows how to hurt her so that she wants more.
Eddie will fuck her when she's tied up, unable to move. And when he's come and she thinks it's all over Michael will slam her arse. He will thrust into her so hard that when she cries out it will be for him to get faster so that it's done with.
The dildos and vibrators are for after they've taken her Virginity. For when she believes the worst has happened.
He'll force her to suck them one at a time while the toys are in her. He'll have Eddie thrust the toys when she's sucking him, and he'll ram the toys when she's sucking Eddie.
She finally nears them and they step out from the shadows. Michael first, Eddie close behind.
Her eyes widen in fear and she backs away. Michaels excitement soars. He craves the chase, and with a few steps he grasps the back of her shirt and pulls her body toward him.
Ellie doesn't make things easy. She screams out and yanks her body forward, causing the shirt to rip.
Only a tight lacy camisole beneath the shirt, she runs whilst he holds the cotton shirt in his fist.
Eddie doesn't know what to do with himself. He came to fuck the Librarian. He hadn't thought things through.
“Get her.” Michael growls. And so Eddie runs. He tackles the Librarian to the ground easily. And he waits until Michael gives the next instructions.
“Get her naked Ed. Let's have us some fun. I want to play a game.”
They rip the clothes from her body, while she does nothing but cry, squirming on the floor as the rough hands grasp at her flesh. Tearing material from her body until she lies completely naked. Her large breasts are slapped and her nipples squeezed as she begs for them to stop.
Michael is too far gone to think of the consequences and Eddie just wants to fuck the Librarian.
“Fucking slut. You've wanted this for ages. Begged us with your eyes. Touch yourself. If you get us excited we won't be so harsh with you.”
He grabs her hair and lifts her none too gently to her feet, where he shoves her against the counter and lands a stinging slap against her breast, then the same to her thigh.
“Do it bitch! Touch yourself.”
She shakily spreads her legs and as the tears streak her cheeks, she lowers her hand to her bald pussy.
They watch wide eyed as she slides a single digit into her hole. And she slowly pumps the unit in and out. Michael grasps his wood through his trousers and watches his live porn.
She speeds up the pace because she knows that's what they want. And when she knows it's getting to them, she flees.
She has a few seconds head start. They were too busy with their planned humiliation.
She runs through a door beyond the reception desk and descends the stairs to the basement rooms.
They follow with sounds of heavy footfall and shouts of insults her way.
They burst through a second door with smiles on their faces. They found her.
She stands naked and proud. A gentle smirk on her face. Fools thought they had her. They have no idea yet.
They take a few more steps into the room, Michael is wary. Why the hell is she smiling? She should be consumed by fear.
“Oh, honey bear.” She calls in a sing song voice.
A large man enters the room from a door they assumed to be a cupboard. He wears jeans and no top, a nasty scowl painting his face.
“These boys were trying to hurt mama. Get them ready for me. I want to play a game.”
Just like that...
It happened in the library...in my sophomore year of college, I had received word that I was accepted into the work program at the university library. It was for ten hours a week and it was placing books back into the stacks. "Stacks" by the way is what the rows of book shelves are called. The job was boring but it let me stay on campus where I could get actual work for my studies done, versus going out and finding a job. It wouldn't have been that bad but, I find, once I have a job, it starts to consume me.
Besides, this allowed me time to start finding good books to read and find other things to occupy my time. It was also where, I was introduced to a particularly beautiful young Jewish woman named Cori. Cori was a free spirit and she had this incredible smile that provoked you to smile back at her. I only saw her every now and then while we were coming off of our shifts. I just so happened to notice her as she was getting the book trolleys ready to be put away. My God, she had an incredible ass. But I digress...
But on one particular day, she switched shifts and low and behold, we were in the stacks together putting books away. I was in the biographies, and in my hands, as fate would have it, a biography on Donatien Alphonse François, affectionately known as the Marquis de Sade. I had no idea what I had in my hand as the only knowledge I had of the man and philosopher was from a movie called Waxwork (1988). But I was disrupted from my glancing at the book when a woman's voice interrupted me.
"This section is biographies, self help books are with education section 807"
I looked up smiling as I felt busted (thank you puritanical up bringing!) But my smile froze as I realized who she was.
"If I were needing self help with sex, I wouldn't be reading the Marquis De Sade, I'd be reading 'How to talk pick up woman', first, and leave the Marquis for after I have gained a regular liaison, don't you think?"
She smiled and said, "So you need help in picking up woman?"
"No, I think I have that under control...,"and smiled right back, "I'm Andy"
and held out my hand to shake hers.
"Well Andy, you are a gentlemen. I've never shook a man's hand after being introduced."
"Introductions usually require me getting your name, too..." I said as I smiled at her. And she just smiled back. I slid the Marquis into his place on the shelf as she slid her books onto the shelf near by.
I turned and looked at her, "Well, are you going to leave me hanging..."
She smiled and said, "..."
"Oh I see, well then...see you 'round" and started pushing my cart off to the next section.
"Really, you are gonna go that easy? If I would have know that's all it took I would have just smiled at guys and not say anything to drive them off"
"Is that what you are doing? or I should say - that was your intent? to drive me off, even after seeing my charming smile? And yes, I am charming..."
She giggled at that, and it was here, when she covered her mouth from giggling, that I knew I just met someone special. It happened just like that...it happened in the library...