Speaker 1: High excursionists. It's way back Wednesday on Into the Night Anthology,
a return to a story that left its mark. And
if you're a library member, don't forget there's another story
waiting just for you. Be sure to check your email
if you haven't found your way there yet, listen all
the way to the end to find out how you
can become a story in my library. Welcome to Into
the Night. I'm Narri your guide on today's excursion down
a twisted path. Be careful not to get lost. Be
it dark or light, It's easy to lose your way.
Are you ready, then let's begin to die for Housed
in a Gothic style building off the north end of
the town square, the library stood as witness to history. Floods, droughts, births, deaths,
a civil war, and even two World wars left no
lasting effects on this stoic stone and mortar structure. It
seems as though even time meant nothing to the Madson
County Library. Occasionally passers by pondered at the enormity of
the building, and the exceptionally thoughtful considered the decades that
had flowed by as the library shouldered its community's burdens. However,
as technological advancements stole more and more interest away from
the stodgy stacks of musty smelling books, fewer people gave
the library even a momentary glance. For those who climbed
the marble steps and tugged on the creaking oak doors,
the hush of the library carried an overbearing weight. The
air was heavy and stifled even the most talkative visitors.
If a building's atmosphere could be embodied by a person,
then that was the case of librarian Ignatius Fletcher. A
pinch faced man of no good humor, he ran a
tight operation at the library. It's possible some speculated that
he was the one cause why library membership had dwindled
in recent years. Grown adults, let alone small children, feared
the ill tempered man. The town joke was that even
Dewey would have found another line of work had he
encountered the foul old man who served as the librarian.
Newcomers like Edwin Forsyth, who arrived in town on Tuesday,
were the most frequent visitors to the Matson County Library.
Drawn to the history and romance of the old building,
most considered it a fine way to acquaint themselves with
their new community. Few were returned customers. Once they had
looked over the selection, Ignatius offered them, excuse me, sir.
Edwin's voice disrupted the stillness as he sought to garner
Ignatius Fletcher's attention. The old man turned around to face
his patron. Yes, I'm new around here. The librarian looked
him up and down. I see that. Brushing off the
disdainful tone of the thin old man standing behind the counter,
Edwin plowed ahead. Well, you see, I was hoping to
find a book to occupy my time, something different. Looking
at the stacks, I'm sorry to say that I've already
read much of what you have available. Quite the reader,
are you, Edwin puffed out his chest and smiled. Why, yes,
yes I am. I've been a voracious reader since the
age of four. How nice. Ignatius continued flipping through the
papers in front of him, Quickly oblivious to his new patron,
Edwin cleared his throat. H I was hoping you had
a suggestion. The old man paused, staring at the papers
for a moment before looking up to peer at him
a suggestion. Well, I might have something in the special
collection located in the back room. Follow me past the stacks,
through a locked door, and down a narrow corridor. Ignatius
Fletcher came to a stop and opened a door reaching
into the darkness. He turned on a light switch, revealing
a pleasant room. Not at all like the austere main library.
This room was downright inviting, resembling a parlor more than
a library. A sofa, complete with a plush throw and
abundant fluffy pillows, took center stage in the room. A
tall Tiffany style lamp stood next to the sofa, and
an end table offered a bowl of sweets. Book shelves
lined the wall. The soft light from the lamp gave
the windowless room a welcoming ambiance. My I wasn't expecting this.
It's not a room I bring just anyone to. However,
your discriminating tastes in literature seem ready made for this collection.
I suggest you start with this book. He pulled the
first title off the bookshelf to the right. It should
capture your attention. If not, there are many stories to
choose from. He handed Edwin the book. The leather cover
was embossed with a paisley design. Even just looking at it.
It's quite impressive. It feels good to the touch. Edwin
marveled at the craftsmanship that went into the book. The
volumes in the special collection cannot be checked out and
must remain in this room. You are free to remain
here as long as you wish. There are no setup
for the library. Patrons may come and go as they please.
With that, the librarian turned and left the room, closing
the door behind him. Edwin situated himself on the sofa.
It had just the right balance of support and luxurious
softness to make it the perfect place to read. He
nestled under the fuzzy blanket and opened the book. Soon
he was whisked away on an adventure following the life
and escapades of a former trapper turned pioneer. The librarian
was right. This book is fascinating, with just the right
mix of history and compelling personal story. I'd never heard
of this author before. He flipped to the front and
stared at the name Pierre Cordier. I'll have to look
for more of his books in the future. Time passed
and Edwin remained engrossed in the book. He laughed, he wept,
he cheered for the protagonist, and hate the villain. The
writing was superb, and the emotions were raw and authentic. Finally,
he finished the last page. That held my attention from
beginning to end. I wasn't ready for it to be over.
He stared at the spine of the leather cover Volume one,
it says. Glancing at the bookshelf, he spotted volume two.
He rose, stretched and placed volume one back on the shelf,
then picked up volume two. Well, let's see what you're
all about, says here. You're written by a Henry Cantwell.
Edwin settled himself back onto the sofa and began reading
once again. This story isn't anything like the last one,
but it has me just as entranced. Page after page
he turned lost in the grand tale. He paused for
a moment between chapters to look around the room. Row
after row of volumes sat on the shelf. Edwin was
nearly giddy. If each volume is as intriguing as the
first two are, this is going to be a real treat.
He couldn't remember the last time he had been so
excited about a collection of books. Before he knew it,
he finished volume two, he nearly sprinted to grab volume three.
One after another Edwin devoured the stories on the shelves
around him. What I would give to have a set
of these at home. I could read them over and over.
In fact, I'll ask the librarian where I can order
them from. He seems a little severe, but he can't
be all bad. After all, he knows a good book
when he sees one. He turned page after page and
found each new story even more compelling. He felt a
little weak and tired after a while, but even though
his eyes grew bleary, he continued reading. Finally, he came
to the end of the final book on the shelves.
That's odd. I don't seem to have the strength to
get off the couch. I have been reading for quite
a while. I'm sure the librarian wouldn't mind if I
stretched out and took a little nap. Edwin burrowed into
the couch and fell into the soundest rest he'd ever taken,
or ever would. He was right about Ignatius Fletcher. He
didn't mind his guest falling into eternal slumber. It's taken
him long enough, muttered the surly old man. I was
afraid the snow would fly before he was through. I
thought he'd never stop reading, although that was exactly the
plan Ignatius Fletcher had in mind for the select few.
He took deep into the belly of the library. He
wanted them to read, and read and read. Why these
books are to die for, he let out a hearty chuckle.
They're so interesting that once begun, no one stops to eat,
or drink or rest. The librarian stripped Edwin's body of
his clothes and dragged him to the processing room, where
his skin would be turned to leather. Once that chore
was complete, it would be time to bind the newest
edition for the special collection, Volume six forty six, a
story by Edwin Forsyth. Thank you for joining me for
this episode of the Into the Night Anthology podcast. Written
by Caroline Giamanco, narrated by Nari, Theme music by Nico Rodriguez.
All other original music sounded and editing by Ohmenhawk Studios.
You can find our links in the show notes. Into
the Night is on your favorite podcatcher, so make sure
to like, subscribe and leave a five star review to
help other excursionists to join us. I'll see you next time,
and remember, whether in the shadows or in the daylight,
all twisted paths lead you into the night. Into the
Night Anthology is a creative typo entertainment production you've been
listening to way back Wednesday from Into the Night Anthology.
Library members already have a second story waiting, and you
can join them anytime at Nari narrates dot com. Just
look for the blue Join the Library button. I'll see
you there.