I hate vampires

Alright, maybe I'm being really over-dramatic. I've seen quite a few vampires and most do not appeal to me. The Ancients strike me as diseased and grotesque, the Old Ones egotistical and insufferable. The more modern... don't even get me started. None of them I found pleasant. Annoying mostly. I just couldn't wrap my head around the fascination.

Yet, here I was, putting the latest vampire fiction on display to draw in the younger generation in town.

Really, the wagon load of vampire novels and movies was sickening. The publicity the bloodsuckers got was overwhelming. It wasn't even the good ones like Dracul or perhaps those by Annie Riece. No, it was the strangely moody, too-human vamps with too much inner turmoil and not enough of anything else. They tried to put so much emotions into these characters many lacked any real character. Or a decent story for that matter.

Sad really.

This was the same as about three other series on my shelves. A new name, a different world, but the same romantic scenario. I couldn't bare to have more than this. I hoped I would find more substantial ones to display soon. Something to tug at your soul and stir the imagination. Maybe another series such as Harriet Parker would grace my library.

Until then, I placed the latest young adult "bestseller" on the front shelves with a heavy heart and a long sigh. I could only hope this fad would fade sooner, rather than later.

Once I was finished, I busied myself dusting shelves and replacing returns. Anything to put off the files that needed to be dealt with. I had been running this library for probably too long, but it was still the task I hated most. Regardless, I could never grow tired of my job. This place was my home. My treasures lined the shelves. Stories of adventure, pain, hope, struggles and victories. History, science, magic. Each one as precious as a child to me. Beautiful all of them...

My eyes fell on the display shelf again. I tried hard not to cringe.

Most anyway.

I kept them all. No dust sat on my shelves and no book suffered or rotted. I took great pains to make sure all housed in my library never showed more wear than that of any other well-loved book. Anything worse, I could mend. I had a room just for such things. It's another part of my job. Librarian and Book-mender.

It was even in the title of the place.

Isla's Library:

Foster Home to Stories - Hospital to Neglected Tomes.

I changed the subtitle now and then, but this one was the longest surviving so far. It made me giggle.

If you hadn't guested, I am very proud of my library.

The entrance was very neat. The front desk; a curved mahogany masterpiece. Its edges were artfully carved and its smooth top gleamed dully as it sat front and center before the large wooden double doors the lead outside. It's front had nooks to display my latest editions, just as the inside had nooks for filing.

A large mural spread across the back wall. Half day, half night. The sun shined on a garden of splendid colors with fantastic creatures. The moon shined on a garden of subtle beauty and creatures less seen. A wonderful gift from my dearest friend and I cherished it.

I also gained a modest chandelier from a grateful customer. It shined brightly enough to read without harm, but softly enough that it added warmth to the room. Any other lights were hidden carefully in the ceiling. The overall effect was magical.

But I'll let you in on a secret...

The rest of the library was better.

To each side of the main entrance the real masterpieces rose. Floor-to-ceiling shelves packed full of books. They stood like two forbidding walls with wheeling ladders leaning casually again them. Open sections beside the mural led to a maze of books beyond, with hidden nooks and quiet places to study. It was literally a maze, if a simple one with a rather peculiar organization system. If you wished to learn and explore the known world, walk through the entrance the sun shone upon. If you wished to get lost in a world different from your own, take the entrance with the moon's glow.

Cool, huh?

I thought it was very charming. Most of our tourists did too. We were a small, secluded town named Na Séasúir. A quiet town with little to do. The community did its best to make what it had interesting. Mine was the best.

Then again, I am biased.

We are a tiny little town in Alaska. Out of the way. So out of the way, we were really unheard of. Just how we liked it. Very few tourists come through. All by accident and all taken by surprise. Its beautiful views, old-time charm and quirky places made it a great rest stop for the weary traveler. Still, because it is so secluded, we rarely see the same travelers twice. A shame, but most in town preferred it. We wanted to impress, but not to become some circus, always crowded with gaping mouths and constant camera flashes.

The population was also small. Families rarely left, so the population had reached around two thousand, but that hadn't really changed in the past century. Those who did leave were those who had gone to college and decided not to came back. They probably moved on to do bigger and better things. And families moving in were very, very rare.

Which brings me back to my original topic.

Vampires.

They were the last thing this town needed. I really didn't like vampires. The real kind.

In real life, they were an inconvenience at best. At worst... I didn't want to think about it. It was so rare to see any at all. They never really came into towns if they could help it. If they did, it was in the back streets at night.

So you can imagine how disconcerting it was to see four of them enter my library.