'Moon Shapes'

Chapter 7: Part 2: (Dannity)

Strolling, somewhat aimlessly, around the timeworn books seamed to easily calm my dancing mind.

The aroma of them brought euphoric sensations bopping through me. I rather enjoyed having myself immersed in the feeling of work - or any work - as a welcomed distraction that could help me figure out a tiny bit more of myself; or possibly to whom I might be and become.

I also enjoyed having the answers to every question to life, or some 'theory' that could at least help, was held somewhere in these ancient books (well, at least, that's what they looked like - worn-out).

Not knowing exactly what I was looking for - as far as books were concerned - I walked over to the Library Computer and used the catalog of books online. Old catalog card ways are of the past; such a time-consuming chore; plus, its better this way, than having to ask for someone's help, and wait for them to search up a questionable topic such as myths. You'd be surprised - or appalled - at how many people are still in the dark, when it comes to anything dealing with mention of the supernatural; even after all the incidences; or more a less the 'cover-ups.'

Ah-hah! Luck behold, my own resourcefulness found that there were more books on that subject than maybe the theories of the evolution of man; obviously, this was my own constantly revised conclusion.

Out of all the myth titles there appeared to be, one seemed to strike the fear in me the most - "The Legends of the WitcLand Pures' of the Supernatural", I'm not completely sure why (perhaps it was just too humoring old; stagnant memories, or just too emotionally draining to fill up the flood gates that most call their eyes sockets) but I was just captivated by this unexpected urge to read this particular book. Plus, what the hell's the difference between a 'vampire' and a 'vampure?' I thought while reading the table of contents.

Writing down the book title; number and book isle that it was on. I abandoned the computer; and paced up the stairs - ugh, a three-story Library... how did that lil' ole woman climb these stairs every day with a loaded cart? - that led to majority of the older books.

Hundreds of isles - okay, maybe not hundreds, but this place seamed to go on and on.

Ten minutes of wandering in one long rectangle till finally finding the aisle to the home of his supposed book should be, I turned down the five-stack high shelved corridor.

Placing my finger tips on the bindings of the first book, on the adjacent shelf at shoulder length, I began tracing over every book passed, until I stopped to see the worn-out lettering of "The Legends of the WitcLand Pures' of the Supernatural" staring at me with its thick and deteriorating leather-bound binder.

Grabbing it, I started immediately flipping through it, just as to about the exact time a cold rush of wind spontaneously crept down the aisle, flaring pieces of hair all around my face.

Smoothing the strands of hair back to a more modern style, I looked around to maybe see a window open; a fan blowing, but nothing was around.

Over dramatic, I thought. Grimacing at myself for thinking that the boogeyman may be lurking just around the corner. A few moments of panicking for the worse to come popping out of... well, just about anywhere - I placed the wind incident as my imagination going into over-drive.

Of course, after logically analyzing how absurd I allowed my mind to creep, I chalked it up as a possible side effect from the constant catnapping at night (that's taking the tole on the less-than-stellar functioning brainwaves) instead of an actual full night's sleep that has probably caught up with me.