New Tales From Old Yarn by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fairy tales, retellings, myths
Publisher: Barbara Becc
Published: 2017-07-09T16:00:00+00:00

Collector's Edition

CDP Morkert

The original myth Collector’s Edition is based off of is one part dragon hoards, and one part the myth of basilisks and weasels being mortal enemies. Honestly Morkert researched about weasels being able to kill basilisks by peeing into their nests, and was so tickled that an entire world was built off of that one fact. Here’s some advice: If it makes you laugh, think of writing something about it.

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Looking at the library from the outside, most immediately assume it's a used book store. They would be partially right, and could purchase various old and new paperbacks off the racks and rickety shelves. It smelled dusty, looked dustier, and had a strange atmosphere of mysteriousness that didn't fit such a small place. The only thing that kept patrons coming was probably the elderly, somewhat petite, librarian. Or what most assumed as the used book store owner. He was more than alright with either descriptor, as long as you were polite and didn't knock over the piles of tomes that were stacked near the check-out desk. That was a pet peeve of his. But on the whole, he was a welcoming sort, and often the tiny library would be a refuge of peace and safety.

The librarian's name changed every thirty years or so. Some called him by old names, but not often. Those ones, those few who knew the old names, were the librarian's favorites. The old names were for those who had been around as long as he had. And all of them, every ageless one, were precious. If the librarian hadn't taken a liking to the written word so early in life, he might have considered collecting immortals rather than books. But perhaps it had turned out better for everyone. Past history with the librarian's western cousins forcibly taking away people for their collections didn't bode well health-wise.

To say the librarian was eccentric was precisely true. He had a small, fluffy, cream-colored Pomeranian as a pet that was kept behind the desk, or sometimes napped on the counter when times were slow. He organized the books to color, rather than to titles, or authors, or any reasonable way to sort books. He had a small table where there was always hot water, but no tea or coffee to add to it. And well, there was the back room to consider. But he didn't talk about the back room to just anyone. So only his favorites knew about that little oddity.

One of said favorites entered the library one day with a bit of a harassed expression on their face partially obscured by the goggles that covered their eyes. Of course this one always seemed to be harassed, but the librarian never asked out-right out of politeness. All would be told in time anyway. The patron paused at the entrance and bowed slightly, and the librarian bowed his own head in acknowledgement. Such a respectful young one. Pulling out a mug, the librarian set it on the counter, causing the small guard dog to lift his head to observe the newly arrived patron.

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