Date with a Book! The Midnight Library

 

Such a magical premise..you just can't put it down.

Between life and death there is a library, and within that library, the shelves go on forever. Every book provides a chance to try another life you could have lived. To see how things would be if you had made other choices . . . Would you have done anything different, if you had the chance to undo your regrets?

A dazzling novel about all the choices that go into a life well lived, from the internationally bestselling author of Reasons to Stay Alive and How To Stop Time.

Somewhere out beyond the edge of the universe there is a library that contains an infinite number of books, each one the story of another reality. One tells the story of your life as it is, along with another book for the other life you could have lived if you had made a different choice at any point in your life. While we all wonder how our lives might have been, what if you had the chance to go to the library and see for yourself? Would any of these other lives truly be better?

In The Midnight Library, Matt Haig’s enchanting new novel, Nora Seed finds herself faced with this decision. Faced with the possibility of changing her life for a new one, following a different career, undoing old breakups, realizing her dreams of becoming a glaciologist; she must search within herself as she travels through the Midnight Library to decide what is truly fulfilling in life, and what makes it worth living in the first place.

Midnight Sonata

 

A December Writing Prompt from Greg at Bookhaven

I was there at midnight. 

The air was cool and the moonlight shone down through the trees. It was a beautiful night on campus. The Red Cedar river burbled below as I stood on the bridge looking down. The moon could be seen in the water, the reflection somewhat muddled by the current and the breeze skittering over the waves. It was quiet, the hush of the evening interrupted occasionally by the laughter of students or the distant murmur of cars. And yet I felt alone in the world, a solitary mote in the grand scheme. 

And it felt good. 

I was at peace as I waited. 

Would she come?

I looked down at the water, whispering below, as a couple strolled by, hand in hand, their voices soft and masked by the breeze. Were they in love? Were they new to all this, or old hands?Who knew? It was a beautiful thing though, two people together, just the two of them in all the world. 

I know the feeling. 

She probably won't come. 

She was working late, hadn't even read the text as far as I know. She might not know I'm here even. But that's okay. I like being here even if alone. The Cedar will be my companion if needed. The murmur of the river and the caress of the night breeze. It's enough for now. 

It was a long shot anyway. We met not long ago. Shy glances, a tentative smile. Standing in line together at Starbucks. Our hands brushing together. A nervous laugh. Sitting for hours and losing ourselves in conversation. 

Knowing I should go and not wanting to. Her saying the same.

The exhilaration of getting her text. The anxiety of texting back. The phone ringing when I gave her my number... 

It was starting to get cold. I don't think she's coming. I check my phone. It's 12:25. I should move on...

She'll be here. 

How do I know? 

I just do. 

I lean against the railing and close my eyes. All around me I can hear the night sounds, some kids having a snowball fight by the campus library. The sounds of people living. The early season snow painting everything white and gracing the river with a sheen of ice. This is one of my favorite places on campus. I'll miss it here when I'm gone. 

My phone dings and my pulse spikes. I check the message, then feel a wave of disappointment. Just a friend, but not... the message I hoped for. Has she seen the text? I could call her. Maybe. I know she's... busy. 

Where are you? my friend asks. I hesitate then reply. 

"I'm just out. I might meet Sara."

They're typing back. I wait. 

"Might meet Sara?"

"Yeah. She's working... we'll see..."

"Are you alright?"

I smile. 

I'm fine. Talk later."

Alone again. 

It's cold. 

12:45. 

Time to go. 

I sigh and make my way towards the end of the bridge. 

And there she is. 

She meets me and I can smell her perfume. 

We look at each other a moment and she takes my hand. She's beautiful in her scarf. 

"Going somewhere?" she asks.

Blue Hearts

 

I carry a torch for this crackship. Of course, I don't think we will ever see these two actors in anything together. The time I started this story there were some issues at work..and well, of course, it became a bit of a library story after awhile, but it didn't start that way (2008).

 The fried egg was sticking to the pan. What else could go wrong? Bex kept staring at it. The egg sizzled in bits. It was ruined. She started to cry.

"We could have gone out for breakfast, you know?" Oliver almost burned himself on the pan but he got rid of the attempt for breakfast.

"No, I want to be here when he gets here," Bex shrugged.

"Has he done this before?" This was Dayton they were talking about. Once he got into a video game, you'd lost him for good, but didn't Bex know that already.

"I'm really starting to hate him," Bex croaked biting her bottom lip. "What was I expecting? You know, I should have just said to hell with it. Why did I beg him? Huh? This shit isn't going to stop is it?"

"Just take it easy, he'll be home, but later. Like by noon or afterward. You'll see." Of course, he'd said the same thing before midnight and even at three in the morning before they both dozed off in front of the TV.

"You keep saying that-" He gave her a paper towel for her tears.

"We'll have coffee. And break out the granola your Mom sent. It'll be OK." Bex shrugged and went to the table that she and Oliver had to find at the flea market. Dayton wouldn't even help with finding stuff for the house.

"You can make rent this time around?" Oliver then wondered if this was really all about Dayton. Maybe this was a bit more stressful than he'd thought. "Has Dayton paid his half?"

Bex nodded. "We're fine."

"OK." He knew they really weren't. "Maybe once classes start up-"

"Right-" Bex took a sip of her coffee then. "God, you should really go. I'm going to be OK."

"But I can stay."

"No," Bex nodded. "You've done more than enough. " She kept her smile even. "You have things to do. And maybe I need to be here alone whenever Day gets here. I think I should be alone."

"You sure?"

"Yes." Bex gritted. "I really need to be alone right now. I have to get used to being alone."

"Right," Oliver tried to smile. He drank his coffee then. Really, he had nowhere to go. He wanted to be right here. Maybe if he was lucky Dayton would never come home.

Oliver walked away. He hadn't had a cigarette all night which was a first. He never felt like smoking around Bex. Not many people had that sort of charm on him. Maybe if she were around more, he'd quit altogether. But within the block, he was lighting up on his walk home. Wondering what it would be like if by some chance.....

Forget it. He had to forget. It wasn't possible. She was pretty much a goner when it came to Dayton. True she did her best not to talk about him much when Oliver was around. But she'd been with him since high school. Two years even. Ouch.

Didn't she know this side of Dayton by now? Was she waiting for him to grow up?

Oliver smiled. "Not gonna happen," he said to himself. He reached for his cell then.

 Oliver knew pretty much what to do next. Call Nelson. Get the weed and maybe find his little hideout at the lake and stay to himself. Oh, he liked this side of himself. The side he kept perfectly hidden for the most part. Not that anybody would much care. But this was what he did when he wasn't at work. Wasn't talking to Bex or at home with his sister.

But first. He pushed his fingers down in the pocket of his jeans. He could feel the sheen of her undies pushed away in his pocket. Next time her bra. For real. Yeah, he wanted a matched set.

a short story by Ivy Parker

A person will die from total lack of sleep sooner than from starvation. Death will occur about 10 days without sleep, while starvation takes a few weeks.

Iona couldn't sleep. Maybe it was restless leg syndrome. Or the first graders from her class that annoyed her in her dreams. Maybe it was the jingle she could often hear in the middle of the dark night as a reminder that the janitor at school might be an axe murderer, like the other teachers at school told her.

Then she'd start to wonder. Were the doors locked? Would the cat try to get in their room? She did not like waking up with a furry Mane Coon on her chest.

"When you can't sleep. I can't sleep." Simple as that, her husband Max informed her. He told her about his stress too. There were college students who thought he had no business being at the community college as a professor. Wasn't he a has-been rocker? Who only had a few musical notes left on his chest as tattoos. No one took him seriously at song writing.

"And your point?" She needed more sleep than he did. She had children to worry over. She had real problems to deal with. These were little demons she had to deal with. She'd already been kicked in the shins and some little boy bit her butt. She did have on bicycle shorts under her jumper, at the time, so she hadn't came down with anything.

He said there was no need to fuss. While she prepared for a night that might end in disaster (one never knew how to exactly dress in case of a fire.. If she'd had armor she would have wore it.) Max wore nothing at all. He liked to be free when he slept.

"You always sleep." She insisted.

"I do not." But he didn't want to argue about it. He had other things on his mind. Like sex.

"No. no. no." She snapped. "That's all you think about. Isn't it?"

"And Cheetos. Pop tarts without frosting, and a good cheese mustard burger from Sonic." He smiled patiently.

Iona crossed her arms, laid there in bed.

"Fine." He rolled his back to her.

"You can't leave me alone like this." She was in a huff then. She looked at the clock. It was well after mid-night. The clock ticked-ticked-ticked.

"I'm right here? What is wrong now?" He didn't look back at her. She stared at the back of his thick head of hair. Iona took a deep breath and finally looked at the ceiling.

She felt something move the bed then. It wasn't Max.

"What was that?" She rose up on her elbows.

"It was you. What do you think?" Max just said without moving. He laid still.

Iona shuttered to think someone or something might be under the bed. She'd take a look. She sat at the edge of the bed.

"Don't."

"What?" Iona winced. Well, since he said that, she had too. She took a look under the bed. There were only dust bunnies.

"You know what you do, when you do that?" He said all monotone.

"What?" She winced.

"First its the broom. Then its the vacuum. You keep me up, all night with your freak'n cleaning." He rolled back and put his hands behind his head and watched her, standing there as if she needed to do this.

"You know, I hate housework." She was serious.

"Yes, I know." They had a sink piled with dishes and boxes of recyclables in the livingroom waiting for crafts to be made by 6 year olds. "Sometimes, I wonder if there could be two people inside you. The one who goes to work and this one that comes out, after midnight." He winced.

"Don't be silly." She swelled a frown.

"To bad you can't be a witch and you could turn me into a stead and ride me all night long." He let a laugh slip then.

"There you go again." She stood there with her arms crossed.

"I know. Sorry. Come back to bed. Just be calm. You'll see. Sleep might set in." He patted her side of the bed.

Iona would try to make an effort. She would.  So she laid next to him.

"Do you ever dream of her?" Iona looked at Max then.

"Not very often." Max slightly shrugged. "You mean the ghost?"

"No, Lady Gaga." Iona sighed. "Yes, the ghost." They'd both dreamed of the college student's murder that had to have happened in this very room 10 years ago or so. It was frightening to think how she,an slender African American girl with a wild afro, painted the walls with her own blood with one hand, a line streaked across the wall, before she died. It was ghastly.Of course, it was gone now. It gave Iona shivers, just imagining it. She looked in the twilight at the the empty wall.

"Is that why you can't sleep?" Max put his arm around Iona.

"Suppose." Iona wasn't certain. Maybe.

"I think she likes us." Max pushed his fingers through Iona's hair.

"How can you be so sure? We don't even know her name. We don't even know who killed her. No one seems to even know." Iona shivered slightly.

"I remember, how they made fun of you when you went to the library and even went down to the police station to ask about where we lived. They just said there had been a meth lab here. That's all." Max reminded her. He rubbed her back then. She was finally still. It was as if something was trying to catch her last breath or she was falling into something.

Iona's eye sprang open. She knew who was under the bed this time. Beneath the floorboards.