A Collection of Short Stories

Mr. Linden's Library

Mr. Linden's Library

Copyright 2015

An old piece based off a prompt from the Harris Burdick mystery. You can read more about this mystery here. http://harrisburdickproject.weebly.com/

The dusty floorboards whined under the pressure of her heels, responding with a satisfying click after each footstep graced the aged oak. It grew onto each wall and branched into different, asymmetrical rows, hiding the stained burgundy walls that sought shelter behind each shelf. Each row led further and further back, the contents growing older as she passed by, leading to a singular, bulky desk. More paper than the entire room contained was stacked in disheveled heap, a worn metal service bell sharing the only available space with an engraved name plate.

Mr. Carl Linden. The name resonated in her thoughts, preying on her anxiety as her hands began to shake and sweat. She wiped it away on her skirt, her eyes darting around the room once more before her index finger graced the top of the silver bell. The ring was the next thing that pierced the static silence that had been blanketing the store since the moment she passed the door frame, greeting every corner and crook until it found its way back. The static quickly dominated once again, restoring the sensation of solitude that weighed heavy on her emotions.

His face was worn with age, his skin dropping and wrinkled with all the burdens of a generation. Tan sun spots dappled his cheeks and jaw, which had receded far into his face, highlighting his jowls and meeting the bones underneath. Wrinkles on his forehead were delicately stacked on top of one another, folding deep into his forehead. Grey eyes were masked by puffy bags; both seemed to sink with the exhaustion of a lifetime. Thin white hair framed the sides of his face, the texture bearing resemblance to a poorly maintained doll; white hair mixing with grey to form a bushy beard around his oblong jawline.

Shuffling across the floor, his feet created a muffled sound as if sandpaper were slowly being dragged against the oak. She found it hard to pinpoint exactly where he had emerged from, but she noticed his eyes transfixed on hers. She felt vulnerable, his eyes magnifying her soul and judging what it saw before a single word had been uttered between them.

And suddenly, her newfound bachelor's degree seemed to pale in comparison to the wise man who stood behind the desk looking back at her. She may have contained the knowledge of a diploma, but he contained the secrets and wisdom of a lifetime. He laid his hands out in front of him, beckoning her to speak.

"Hello, Mr. Linden, I'm-" Her voice was shaky and lacked the assertiveness that she had carried around with her so well.

"I know who you are." Mr. Linden's voice was deep and booming, overpowering hers in an instant. His hand reached out to grasp the paper delicately placed at the top of the disorganized stack. Sliding on glasses that were suspended by a chain around his neck, he skimmed the paper as she began to wring her palms together. "I received your resume in the email you sent me." He paused, his eyes skimming over a sentence again.

"Yes, as you can see I recently graduated from-"

He cut her off again, his voice trailing back. "Yes, yes I know. With honors, as well. Impressive." He looked up and smiled, easing some of the high strung tension that wound itself throughout the area. She opened her mouth, taking in a breath to speak again, but his words were a blockade against commentary. "You're hired. And seeing as you're the only extra set of hands I have around here, I'd appreciate it if you could start working as soon as possible."

She nodded, and finally allowed herself to respond without being talked over. "I don't have anything planned, so I can get started right away."