The Librarian's Revenge ©

The Librarian's Revenge ©

An Odyssey Into The Wonderful World Of Words

This community is dedicated to C.W. Hewett's epic masterpiece


Daniel R.Posted by Daniel R 15 Jul, 2009 11:57AM
Chapter one Secrets

The night was bitter. Very bitter. So was the woman standing on the icy balcony. The freezing winds battered her cheeks. But the inclemency and the wind didn’t faze her. Not with her view.

The skyline of the city seemed to reach up into heaven. The stars danced in the mid-night gale, hiding the crime and debauchery in the underbelly of hellish city. With corrupt hags on every street corner. The smell of rotten fish and the sound of gunfire seemed to pervade the air, as if taunting the woman watching it all.

She whispered softly. The wind grew softly as well. Like it was reacting to her call. Now the wind seemed to caress her cheek like a lover’s palm.

With her many secrets spinning round the whirl-wind of her head, she turned. Keeping her back to the beautiful but immoral city.

She stepped forward. The click from her high-heels on the balcony destroyed the peaceful sound of the city behind her. She headed to a shadowy bedroom beyond the white net-curtains blowing in the breeze in front of her. As she past them she didn’t feel the gentle wind anymore.

She glided past her most recent secret lying on the floor in front of the bed, like it wasn’t there. She headed to the left in the direction of the en-suite.

She went past the 4 poster bed, as she entered the theatrical bathroom. With gold chandelier, marble floor, and gold taps in the shape of swans.

She walked past a big mirror when she noted her hands. She had to wash them but where. The shower was standing there looking like the perfect candidate.

She removed her silky red dress from her slender body and then hung it on the pine door behind her.

As she climbed in to the shower, she turned on the taps. She reached for the soap. The lather cascaded down her body and the red water danced down the plug hole.

She turned off the taps and left. She wrapped her gold glossy locks in the yellow towel hanging next to the sink.

She entered back in to the sombre bedroom and sat down at the dressing table. She looked behind her using the mirror. Saw a red stained knife lying on the floor.

She sobbed. She ran to her dressing-gown and slung it on. She galloped to the door and flung it open. Her tears subsided as she walked through the doorway. Swiftly walking through the door, she made out the time on the clock. The grandfather clock in the corner stated it was two to midnight. She wept on the sofa for a few minutes until... the knock on the door.

Any normal woman would have stayed there and ignored it, but she wanted everything to look normal. Not like her then. But make it look like nothing had happened. Hunky-Dory like some people might say. So she had to answer the knocked door.

Her wet cold feet slapped the shiny black marble floor, as she walked to yet another pine door.

Who could it be at this time? All the servants had gone to bed at least two hours ago.

She straightened herself, and opened the door. A white haired lady stood in the hall way. This woman had worked at the house, for the family, for twenty years. The old woman’s face, simple but concerned, nervously spoke.

“Is something wrong? I heard shouting, screaming.”

“No it’s fine.”

“But what’s that.”

She pointed to the door leading to the bedroom. A man’s leg was poking in to view. Like an unwanted sock poking out of the sock draw after it’s closed.

The young woman sighed knowing the fate of the elderly lady standing next to her. The woman was adding it all up, working it all out. This was signing her death warrant.

With eagle like precision she grabbed the maid round the neck and flung her on to the floor like an old rug. Her long fingers wrapped round an envelope knife beside her.

The only thing running through her mind was...

“Not again.”

Over and over again.

The maid was panting, expecting the inevitable blow somewhere on her body.

The old maid yelled as the young bastard above lifted the knife over her head. She then slung it in to the chest.

The blood flew out of the body and across the room. The familiar sight (to her) never got any easier for her to witness, but she had to do it. This scene is more suited to a horror movie set than a bedroom in a mansion.

She struggled and scrummed underneath the bitch pinning her down on the floor.

Suddenly she stopped and she was lifeless. She looked like she was sleeping. But she would never wake up.

The phone rang. She clambered up from the floor to answer it. She picked up the ear piece with her blood covered hand and lifted it to her ear.


“Yes. I did it.”

“Someone found out.”

“Yeah I killed them. I had to.”

She hung up. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not after that.

She dragged herself to the light switch and switched it off. Carefully she worked her way to the sofa to sit down.

The room was like her morals.

Dark. Very dark.