I was watching the Head librarian and was amazed that he was still alive. He was rail thin, had long, white hair and a nose that seem to droop down into the books he was leafing through. He would shake his head as though he was answering some internal voice, close the book and slide it back into the stacks. I was beginning to think that the man was mad.

He smacked his lips. “Pay no attention to Dewy or Decimal. Here, we do things differently.”

Differently, no kidding. I had simply asked him how to file the books. “How do I...”

The old librarian took another book from the trolley, held it up to the light, fanned through the pages, then stuck his big nose into the book and took a whiff.

“A book is like a good wine. You have to examine its color, scent it, imbibe it into your very soul.”

He had to be nuts. I watched as he held the book up. His free hand hovered over the book as though he was conjuring some spirit. The thin, spider-like hand began to vibrate. He moved his hand from the book and ran his fingers along the spines of the books in the stacks, back and forth. It was as though he was divining for water. Then his hand stopped and he inserted a long index finger in between two books, and slid the book in.

Taking another book from the trolley he thrust in into my hands. “Here you go, Master William, you try.”

Master? Where was this guy from? The middle ages? He looked old enough. I took the book and shrugged.

“I don't get it.”

“Try it. Try it. It's quite liberating,” he said euphorically.

I groaned.

“Look at it. You can't do it unless you look at it. Good, now, what do you see?”

I looked at the cover. “There's a half-dressed guy on the cover. He's kissing a girl.” The cover was rather embarrassing.

“Ah, a Romance. Do you smell the chocolate? The flowers...perhaps, roses?”

“This is...”

“Smell.”

He thrust the book at my nose and I had no choice but to take a tentative sniff. “I do smell something.”

“Ah...”

“Chocolate, I smell chocolate.”

“See,” exalted the librarian.

I tugged on the impromptu bookmark that was the foil remains of a chocolate covered mint wrapper from between the pages and held it for him to see.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

Ignoring it he continued on. “Now, hold the book up, let it guide you to its place in the stacks.”

“This is nuts,” I muttered under my breath, but I did as he asked and held it up. I noticed the the librarian was smelling the mint foil and licking his lips.

“No, actually, it is peppermint, no nuts, although I do detect a note of cashew.”

“Cashew is a nut.”

“No, my boy, it is a fruit.”

I wanted to tell him what I honestly thought of this entire episode, but I held back. I had to be polite or face the wrath of the volunteer coordinator for my school.

“I've been thinking, maybe I should volunteer somewhere else, maybe a garage where they change tires...”

Then everything changed. I was about to thrust the book into the stacks, turn and walk out when the book took control. It jerked on my hand. I tried to drop it, but it was as though my hand was glued to it. It pulled me along the stacks towards the back. I stumbled along.

“Where's it taking me?”

“Go with it,” shouted the librarian, “just go with it, man.”

The book continued to pull me along. It tugged me up the stairs at the back, onto the mezzanine level and suddenly forced me to the ground where it slipped, seamlessly into the stacks. The librarian was staring down at me, a great grin on his bearded face.

“Let me guess. This is where the Romance section is.”

He shrugged. “More to the point is that you understand how we file books.”

I struggled to me feet. My legs were still wobbly from the startling experience of having a book take control of my body.

“This is insane. No offense, but you're insane. This entire place is nuts. I'm out of here.”

Trying to move past the frail librarian I found my way blocked. He seemed a lot larger now than he was a moment ago. I doubted I could get past him even if I wanted to. He handed me another book. This one was black.

“Listen, try one more book, and then, if you feel the same way, then you can seek to fulfill your quest somewhere else.”

Quest? What was it with this guy? “Sure, whatever, Don Quixote, give me the book.”

I took the book and felt the familiar tug. This time I was ready for it and simply let it lead. I followed it to the back of the mezzanine level to the back where the stair well was situated. It took me down the stairs, past the main floor and into the basement where the Children' s department was. There was a young woman behind the counter. I couldn't help but stare. She was about my age, but entirely dressed in black. Some people called it Goth, I just called it odd. She followed me with her overly accentuated eyes as the book pulled me passed her and towards the shaded penumbra of a door less back room.

“Go with it, man,” shouted the librarian.

I could feel Goth girl following me.

In front I noticed a big, closed vault, like the ones in banks. In the center of the vault was a slot and the book was pulling me towards it. Underneath the slot were the words in big, white lettering. The said: DISCARD. The book shot towards the slot and pulled my hand in with it. I tried to let go, but the book began to pull my arm in.

The old librarian was whooping and hallooing as though he was having the time of his life. The Goth girl appeared at my side.

“You should let go.”

“I'm trying to. It won't let go of me.”

“Are you sure,” said the girl casually.

“I'm sure,” I spat back at her. “It's pulling my arm off...”

The Old librarian was on my other side, his long nose almost in my ear. “Try to clear your mind of all thought.”

“Thought, thought...like how my arm is being pulled out of its socket?”

“Clear your mind...” continued the librarian, “deep thoughts...”

I tried, but failed. What eventually released me from the book wasn't any zen calmness, but the feeling that something on the other side was coating my hand in saliva. I pulled out my hand. It was covered in blue, iridescent slime. I didn't stop to ask: why is my hand covered in iridescent slime, I just ran. Behind me were the sounds of a cheering, ecstatic, archaic librarian that sounded like he had just won the lottery. I didn't stop running until I reached the water.