Monsters

Monsters #4

I was hunched over the round table that was nestled in the far corner of the public library. Loose sheets of paper and text books were splayed haphazardly over its pale blue top. The strong, cool air conditioning ruffled the pages and lifted the fine hairs on my arms.

Book shelves obscured my form from the view of the elderly women perched behind the front counter. They downed the glow that was emitted by the florescent lights and created a sense of loneliness. Disturbance was rare and when it occurred it was usually conducted by a man or woman withered by age.

I sifted through my notes, glimpsing over the scribbled loops of my cursive handwriting. An ache spread across the back of my eyes and wrapped around my temples. Moaning, I threw the sheets onto the table and leant back into the plastic seat.

My head tilted back, straining my neck and exposing my eyes to the silvery halo that was cast across the ceiling. I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. Through the inky black spread across the back of my eyelids, appeared blotches of dark red and deep green. An ugly purple blossomed over my pupil. Its spidery tangents reached toward the corners of my eyes and dispersed into darkness.

Inhaling deeply, I leant forward onto my knees and opened my eyes. The vibrancy of the colours within the large room swelled within my vision. Long strands of hair fell across my forehead and became trapped in the lashes that framed my tired blue eyes. Focus was seemingly hard to obtain.

I gathered my textbooks and notes into a pile, stacking it in the crook of my arm. The faint scent of mildew and dust was an irritation to my senses. I hauled myself to my feet, flashing a smile at a wrinkled man stooped over a walking frame. I drifted past and wandered through the maze of bookcases. The creased spines of novellas decorated the dinted metal shelves.

Soon I would replace my textbooks with the anthologies of Jane Austen, T.S Elliot and Harper Lee. For a short time I would seek escapism in their stained, bent pages and I would sink into their romanticized worlds.

I walked briskly past the elongated front counter. “Have a good afternoon dear,” said the slender woman in her late sixties. I think her name was Susan but I can’t be certain. My memory can’t bring forth her name tag. “You too,” I murmured.

The glass sliding doors swept open, allowing damp air to bathe my body. Water dribbled over the gutter of the library’s awning, forming puddles over the eroded concrete below. Rain poured from the gloomy sky and soaked the parched earth.

Thick clouds hung low over the building, sinking into the slightly obscured horizon. They made the world feel small. It was as if the structure I’d emerged from was too big for the space it was in.

I hugged my belongings against my chest and darted across the parking lot. The tarmac glowed with a wet film and my hazy reflection glossed over its surface. The heels of my sneakers kicked up rubble, disturbing the small pools.

Frogs and insects moaned around me. I could feel them spying on me from the security of the knotted branches and thick blades of grass.

Droplets sunk through my grey sweater and left dark flecks on the thighs of my jeans. The fresh scent of spores awakened my dulled senses and a fine mist coated the base of a tree, dampening the mulch around its roots.

I unlocked my Nissan. Water carved jagged trails along its shell, creating a natural, intricate pattern over its synthetic surface. I hurled open the back door and dumped my textbook and notes on the rear seat.

The loose sheets topped off of the book and slid to the floor. “Tight,” I muttered, leaning deeper into the car and propping my knee up on the low bottom of its doorway. I gathered the crumpled notes into my hands and slid them underneath the heavy textbook. The hem of my sweater hunched over my waist and cool air bit at the exposed small of my back. I could feel water soaking through my jeans and nipping at my shin.