I wrote this for my stupid English class, and I thought I might post it.The funny thing is, I wrote this in one night, but the assignment isn't due for another week. My teacher seriously has communication issues.
Based on the picture 'Mr. Linden's Library' by Harris Burdick. Please leave a review.
Mr. Linden's Library
Edie Robertson approached the old vine covered mansion with caution. She didn't want to go in there, but she needed a job and Old Man Linden was hiring for a new maid. Rumor around town was the first maid just up and disappeared. Some think she ran away, others think Linden killed her. Edie tried not to listen to them though.
"Okay, if you see anything weird, run the hell away," Edie told herself aloud. She quickly adjusted her shoulder bag and leaned forward to press the rusty old button for the doorbell. There was a loud 'thwump!' as the bell rang. A large body was heard stomping hastily down the stairs to the front door.
Edie backed slowly away from the large oak door, about to turn and run when suddenly the door seemed to blast open, and there standing in the doorway was Mr. Thomas Linden. An old man of unknown age, he stood straight and tall at about six feet. The dark brown suit he was wearing appeared worn, yet clean and free of any loose threads. He wore thin rimmed bifocals, and his facial hair strangely reminded Edie of Colonel Sanders.
"Um…h…hello, Sir. My name is Edie Robertson, and I've come to ask about the maid position you advertised…." Her voice died away as the old man just stood and looked at her, his leathery hands shoved in his pockets.
"Can you dust well, Miss Roberts?" His low voice was calm and clear, not at all what she expected.
"It's, ah, Robertson, sir, and yes, I can dust very well. But floors are my forte," she replied in a hopeful voice. The old man squinted at her from behind his glasses.
"You're hired Miss Robertson. Come inside and I'll give you a tour." Without so much as a smile he turned and went inside. Edie followed and closed the surprisingly heavy oak door behind her.
As Mr. Linden curtly showed her through the mansion, Edie became more and more fascinated with how much history the building must have had. There were large paintings in every hallway that seemed to watch her as she walked past. The substantial tapestries hanging from the ceiling seemed to call to her to touch them. Just as she extended her hand to caress the fabric of one of them, Mr. Linden turned around.
"Miss Robertson!" He rushed to her and pulled her away from the tapestry. "I ask you to please not touch any of the historical artifacts you find in this house." Mr. Linden pushed her along as she looked back at the tapestry; the green eyes of the dogs in the fabric seemed to shimmer at her.
The last room that Mr. Linden showed her was the library. Though the inside appeared small, Edie surmised there must have been more books in there then the local library. Her teeth sparkled as she smiled from ear to ear.
"Do you have any family in town Miss Robertson?" The questioned startled her slightly.
"Oh, uh no, Mr. Linden. I've only got a sister and she lives in Montesano."
"Do you live alone?"
"Yes sir, just me. Which reminds me, do you require your maids to be live-ins?"
"I do, actually. Let me show you to your room." As they left the library, Mr. Linden carefully shut and locked the ornately carved door.
"When should I bring my stuff in, sir?" Edie asked when they reached the maids' quarters.
"I suggest, Miss Robertson that you put most of your things, furniture and the like, into storage, which I can pay for. The rest of your things you can get in the morning, as it is getting late and I must retire." Mr. Linden turned to leave, "By the way, Miss Robertson. I suggest, for your own safely, to not roam the house after dark. And I highly suggest that you keep away from the library for the next few days." And with that, the old man closed the door.
"What a weird guy," Edie whispered. She kicked off her shoes and climbed into the single wide bed that was situated near the window. That night, Edie was plagued by odd dreams of books and green things. And when she finally awoke in the morning, she could have sworn she heard whispers coming from the hallway. But when she looked out to investigate, there was nobody but Mr. Linden carrying a tray down the hallway towards her.
"I thought some breakfast might do you some good Miss Robertson." He handed her the tray of still-sizzling bacon and eggs. "After you are done eating, you can go and get the essentials from your apartment. Also, could you go down to the local hardware store and get a pane of glass, about eight inches by eleven inches." He pulled out a tired old wallet from his coat pocket, picked out a twenty-dollar bill and placed it on her tray. As he proceeded to walk back down the hall towards the stairs, he called back to her, "When you come back, just put the glass on the dining room table." Edie rolled her eyes and went back into her room to eat her breakfast and get dressed.
When she returned from town two hours later with paper bags full of her things, she placed the pane of glass on the dining room table and quickly ran upstairs to take care of her things. Edie returned to the dining room later to see that the glass was gone, and a sticky note was left:
"Miss Robertson, thank you for the pane of glass, I won't be around much today as I have some work to do upstairs. Would you please get started on dusting? Thank you."
She shrugged her shoulders and went off to find the duster.
Over the next few days, Edie didn't see much of Mr. Linden. She could hear that he was doing something upstairs, she just couldn't figure out what. Then on a sunny Thursday afternoon, he finally came downstairs to find her dusting the old paintings in a fluid sort of way, staring at the eyes of the people that occupied the pictures.
"Ahem! Miss Robertson," he coughed loudly. She was shaken out of her stupor and turned to look at him.
"Yes Mr. Linden? Is there something I can get for you?" She smiled half-heartedly.
"No, no. I just wanted to tell you that you can go into the library now. But, I advise you to stay away from the book that I have put under glass…it's very fragile you see." He took his glasses off and wiped them carefully on his jacket before he walked away from her. Edie turned and looked back at the painting that she had been dusting. She could have sworn that it told her to break the glass.
Edie walked up the stairs to the third floor and approached the library doors. She hadn't noticed before, but the door was carved with vines and animals that must have been from story books. She opened them cautiously and walked inside. There in the back corner like he said was a wooden stand with a book on it, surrounded by glass.
On closer inspection, the book appeared incredibly old; the binding was falling apart and looked like it had been burnt at one time. There wasn't any visible title to the book; she supposed that it must have worn off the cover after so long. Edie backed away from the case and inspected the other bookshelves. She had never heard of most of the other books, but the one under the glass was impossibly alluring.
Suddenly, without thought or reason, she broke the side glass of the case, pulled out the old book, and replaced it with another. Edie ran to the doors, and looked back. From the entrance, it appeared as if everything was in place the way it should be. She closed the doors and ran back to her room. She read the book for hours; the words seemed to flow so effortlessly, as if the work wasn't fiction at all. The settings and the characters were so vividly described, she felt as if she were actually there. Eventually, out of sheer exhaustion, she fell asleep.
In the morning Mr. Linden, as usual, walked slowly up the stairs to bring Edie her breakfast. He knocked on her door but she didn't answer. When he opened it, he was caught slightly off guard, when he saw his book lying on her bed, and she was no where to be seen. He placed the tray on the desk, picked up his book, and left the room. On his way downstairs, he stopped to look at the painting of the woman Edie had been dusting the day before. He sighed heavily.
"You were right. She didn't last very long." He held up the book in front of the painting. "I'll have to put in another advertisement." The woman in the picture smiled at him.