can you hear it? it rings like a bell with no chime. can you see it? it looks like a hole where something should be. can you feel it? the buzzing in your chest and thrum of blood in your veins.
so we write a story, and we tell a lie. and the lie becomes Real, but true? the truth is, there is nothing like hope or justice, but you make it up every day. you wouldn't like the truth, but it will always be there. and so will lies.
Miss, if this one may so humbly ask, what are you?
You seem to have intricate knowledge on the machinations of the Library, as well as that of the nature of dolls and empty spaces.
So are you a Witch? A Doll? Did you stumble upon this place as we have and decided to take on the role of its Curator and Head Librarian? Or have you never experienced a life outside of this structure of ink and books?
If this one has overstepped a line please do forgive it, but it had to ask. What are you?
๐๐ฎ๐ช๐ป ๐๐พ๐ฎ๐ผ๐ฝ ~
This one is pleased to hear from a curious one such as you. We are ever-welcoming of the curious, for a Library is a place of knowledge--where it is kept, maintained, and given new life to those who seek it.
This one is called ๐๐ซ๐ต๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ช ~ It is a doll, and it is a โ๐ฆ๐๐๐; where a Witch makes themselves part of something, a Queen makes something part of themselves. It is also a ๐๐๐๐๐๐ฃ, but we speak of those anon.
As for what it is in all... an Eldritch, truly, for what other sort of thing could take this form? The form of a Library itself.
For the well-being and safety of our librarians and patrons, please do not enter hallways or other passages which do not exist. They are very difficult to clean. Furthermore, please do not leave unattended dolls, service animals, parked or unparked vehicles without adequate measurements against instability.
there is a butterfly that is flapping its wings; they are not moving, but they are nonetheless flapping; it is flying, but it does not move, it is in place but it was not there and so isn't there and so is over there; there is a motion that is inverse, there is person and there is nonperson, there is a mirror between them and neither one ever moves out of the frame but both keep walking anyway; lick the static screen of a CRT monitor flipped on, look up into the pitch black sky lying on your back and open your mouth to catch the Nothing, this is Stillness, this is what was not born but exists.
you, who were more alone on that night than anyone, you who got lost between where they left you and where you could never get, come here, to where the gray and empty light shines black down the hallway you'd forgotten, come join us and find the answer to the question you always wanted to ask, but never had the key for;