I found an amazing picture of a bookshelf here so I decided to write something based on it. Sort of, anyway.
Please give me your suggestions and feedback, it's my first time in a community like this, I'm usually into fanfics (insert scoff from everyone here, hahaha.)
Oh, and correct me if I do anything wrong (format, tagging rules?)
Thank you so much!
I sit on the couch by my bed, a tall pie of books, borrowed from the library the day before, by my side. My newly obtained treasures are torn, tattered, and have been read over and over again by hundreds, perhaps thousands of people. All the pages of every book have yellowed, some having tiny stains here and there. It's at times like this that I truly long for a bookshelf.
Not just any bookshelf you can find by trotting down to a furniture shop, or flipping through a catalogue, no. I've long desired a bookshelf that stretches for miles and stands t metres high. I want a ladder or two to lean on it, leading to the upper shelves, the ones that are out of man's reach. As I walk by the rows and rows of neatly arranged books, with their leather covers and gilded pages, I want to find every book under the Sun. Books about the arts, books about the stars in the night sky, books about dreams, books, books, books....
This bookshelf, no, this library shall be my haven, away from the grim reality we all live in. In this haven, the bloodiest wars can be salvaged by a hero, perhaps in shining armour on a noble steed, perhaps not. The deadliest diseases can be cured with a vial of a magical concoction. Things man claim can never happen can be but daily happenings in the world of books.
Each book is a tapestry, an intricate work of art. Each page, each line, each word is like a thread with a unique colour, and when woven together, form a rainbow of imagination. Combine the tapestries of all the books, and you form a wild yet complete piece, where each seemingly unimportant thread plays a major part.
A book can also be seen as a body of liquid, each taking on a different colour. My haven is an ocean of colour, an ocean so wide no man can navigate through it.
Each letter is like a droplet of ink, and my haven forms a black canvas, the night sky.
Perhaps, the very night sky that I am gazing at now was formed by God's library, His literary haven.