MABEL
Mabel didn’t need the lantern light of the Atheneum’s customary lamps; her eyes adjusted acutely to the darkness, to the evening’s sanction. Her movements were swift, but unsettled, a state of danger and feralness to their predilections, as if she feared getting caught. Why – she couldn’t be quite certain. Maybe she merely wished no one to know of her plans. To be more furtive, to be more secretive, as she angled her way through bookshelf after bookshelf.
She’d learned to read at an early age; despite their poor upbringing, all of the family’s children had received an education from their mother. Literate, capable of reading, writing, and contemplating more scholarly pursuits, the farm had simply been required more of the undertaking. So did a faith she hadn’t believed in. Out of habit, her fingers traced after a particular set of stacks; but pierced away from the shrine for half a moment; time would come for her to speak to the Goddess. Not now though, not while the mission and contemplation had settled into her mind.
Eventually, she came across the weaponry and armaments section, tilting her head to read the titles along the spines. Grabbing hold of a few, not bothered by the heaviness of several, she maneuvered towards a desk and table by the window. And by moonlit glows, she began to lift the edges of the covers, running fingers over the aged pages, absorbing their material.
She’d learned to read at an early age; despite their poor upbringing, all of the family’s children had received an education from their mother. Literate, capable of reading, writing, and contemplating more scholarly pursuits, the farm had simply been required more of the undertaking. So did a faith she hadn’t believed in. Out of habit, her fingers traced after a particular set of stacks; but pierced away from the shrine for half a moment; time would come for her to speak to the Goddess. Not now though, not while the mission and contemplation had settled into her mind.
Eventually, she came across the weaponry and armaments section, tilting her head to read the titles along the spines. Grabbing hold of a few, not bothered by the heaviness of several, she maneuvered towards a desk and table by the window. And by moonlit glows, she began to lift the edges of the covers, running fingers over the aged pages, absorbing their material.
If you dig under my feet
You will find things that you don't want to see
You will find things that you don't want to see
