Evening was on the mend and shadows grew out of their hidden nooks and secret dens. Their task was to embrace the darkness and guard the aging books and words from long ago. Acting as a silent army through the dark and mystical hours when daylight is no more.

The book-filled room felt pleasant on an evening like this.

Entertaining this hour was a window allowing the sunset to ignite and shine through. It blazed upon shelves, tables, and chairs. And If one would sit in an old recliner, open a dusty capsule of the past, read about stories of rulers, warriors, travelers, or inventors, the room would keep them as a comfortable hostage. Being so enthralled by unheard of facts, people, and places. Prisoners would stay through nightfall.

Soon, a haunting could be felt within the chamber. As the fireplace was lit with heat and flame the torn wallpapered walls would start to breath, becoming almost lifelike.

As morning approached, the fire had dwindled to nothing but ash. The shelves and seating remained though. They waited for the next person of curiosity to find this room, choose a book, seat themselves, and tumble into all kinds of history and passages of the past.