Writing Response

Good Morning Chaps!
This is a quick write I wrote as a challenge to write about an inanimate narrator. Hope you enjoy!

I woke up to the sound of a box cutter and excited voices. “These will be perfect for the kids!” I heard. I was carefully picked up out of the box with about 10 of my brothers and sisters and placed on a table. One by one we were stamped, marked, and covered with a laminate jacket, designed to repel rain and wear. Next, they scanned us, and placed us on a shelf. Then the lights went out.

Too excited to sleep, I listened to the whispering of the books. I learned a lot that night. We were in a large place called a Library, where humans could check us out, take us home for a while, and then return us. Some books bragged about the traveling they have done when taken on a vacation. Others reveled in the number of times they have been checked out. I drank it all in, excited to be here, with my new smelling pages just waiting for my first time when I would be checked out. That’s when I picked up on a quieter conversation, happening over in the Teen’s section.

“It won’t be long now, you know.” One book whispered to another. “There are too many of us, and we were much more popular 3 years ago.”

“Well, you know how teenagers are, they jump from one phase to the next.” Replied an older, tired sounding book.

“So we really will be thinned out? And the oldest and most worn of us will be set aside to…leave?” The book’s voice began to break.

The book sounded close to tears. I worried about what she meant by “leave”. I shuddered.

“I’m afraid that’s the way it works.” The older book replied.

I sighed and tried not to think about it.

The next morning, I was again woken by the sound of many people, kids, teenagers, parents, all entering and leaving the Library, treasured books in hand. Many books were returned. Still more were checked out. I stood as straight as I could on the shelf, hoping to be checked out and my story read. Hours passed, and my heart grew sad. I know it was only my first day, but I couldn’t help but feel something special should happen.

Finally, it was evening, most of the people had left by this point. I heard footsteps. Then, I was picked up and carried away to another part of the library. My heart leapt! Was I going to be checked out after all? But instead of hearing a scan and a beep! Followed by “Have a nice day”, I was set down again on a table. I heard the soft thump of a backpack being set down, and some paper being drawn out. Then, I was opened. For the next 2 hours, I was read page by page, with the young teenager occasionally jotting notes from my pages onto her notebook paper. I was picked back up, and set back on the shelf. The lights went out, and the whispering of the books began again. Sad that I wasn’t checked out, but excited I had been read, this time I joined in the conversations.

Still, many years would pass before I found out where the books went after they left the library…