..::freya

the decision is in there will be no fight
it might sound cold but I know its right
cause someone must get hurt and it won't be me
_____________________________

Towards the back of the library lay a sheer labyrinth of bookcases, of knowledge. The stacks were not in the usual orderly manner of a classic library –they were somewhat like a maze. One had to know this library from the inside out to maneuver through the near ceiling-high shelves, manage the sharp turns that led to sections most people didn’t even know existed amongst some of the newest books. Freya knew; Freya knew this place like the back of her hand. It was home to her, a place in which she could curl up and never leave. She was so quiet a person hardly noticed she was there. To the librarians she was a permanent fixture, like the ancient oil paintings that adorned the walls. Less than a fixture, she was more a ghostly apparition that a person would think they would see from the corner of their eye, but upon looking straight ahead they would see nothing. Freya did not sit at the plush, ornate chairs designed to invite in a weather-worn reader. She didn’t sit at the classic oak tables meant for students, and one would never find her sitting amongst the toys in the children’s section.

Deep within in the library, toward the farthest corner where no one bothered to go because it was all dusty old town records and family trees bound in crumbling leather and feather-light paper sat Freya. Curled up on the floor like a child at story time, she’d wedged herself into the farthest corner of the building, away from everything. She let the dust motes curl around her and catch in her fine, silvery blonde hair. She relished the shadows that saturated the pages of her open book, her eerily dark eyes racing over the ancient Italian of Dante’s Inferno. She was completely alone among the dust and the shadows and the ancient pages of Eventide, and she felt safe. Some nights she would fall asleep here, and the building would close for the night. She felt blissfully happy waking up while the moon was full, knowing the world was locked out and that she had all of this knowledge to herself.

Freya unconsciously pulled down the climbing hem of her delicately lacey skirt as her eyes continued to move, transfixed upon the words that danced before her. Her long loose hair fell over her face and went unheeded even though it continued to tickle her nose. The only thing that could make this experience better for her would be music. The quiet murmuring of voices in the distance. The giggle of children in the play room as their mother’s heels echoed down the aisles as she browsed for the latest romance novel. The low hum of the computers rumbling in the distance. A car honking it’s horn outside. That would be music to her ears.

Then life would be perfect for Freya. But she knew better than to wish for perfection. She knew better than to wish for anything more than a step up from dissapointment.