The Librarian Who Burned Books

The Librarian Who Burned Books

By [Abdul Rauf]

In the town of Bellmere, stories did not simply entertain — they breathed.

When the moon was high and the library lights dimmed, the books whispered. Their pages fluttered without wind. Ink shimmered. And if left unattended too long, the words would climb out and make themselves real.

Bellmere had once been famous for this gift — a village of walking legends and paper dreams. But too many happy endings turned dark. Fairy godmothers grew jealous. Knights went mad with bloodlust. A child once summoned a dragon from a picture book and left her home in ash.

So, a Librarian was appointed.

Not just any librarian — The Librarian. A guardian sworn to contain imagination, preserve order, and when necessary… burn the pages that refused to stay still.

That guardian was Elara Vale.

By day, she wore thick glasses and her brown hair in a tight braid. She read softly to children and helped old farmers find books on soil alchemy or pest deterrents. She smiled often, though not deeply.

By night, she carried a dagger made from the spine of a cursed tome and a silver lighter that had been passed down since the first fire.

Books had to be destroyed delicately — too soon, and the stories would scatter like angry bees. Too late, and they’d root into the town’s foundations, birthing things not even fire could cleanse.

One night, Elara received a warning. The parchment trembled in her hand as she read the title scrawled in frantic ink:

“The Blood Prince”.

She found the book shelved where it shouldn’t be, wedged between Garden Spells for Idiots and The Very Tired Troll. Its cover was stitched in leather — real leather. Old. Smelling of salt and sorrow.

She didn’t open it.

She didn’t need to.

The lighter flared in her palm. But as the flame approached, the book began to speak.

“You’ve burned my brothers,” it said in a boy’s voice. “You’ve silenced stories that wanted only to be known.”

Elara’s jaw tensed. “Some stories want more than that. Some want blood.”

The book laughed, quiet and bitter. “Is that what they told you? You’re not a protector. You’re a censor with fire.”

She dropped it into the iron furnace, heart pounding. The flames danced… but the book didn’t burn.

Instead, it breathed.

The cover split. Pages curled. And from the heart of the fire, a figure emerged — tall, pale, and crowned in thorns. His eyes glowed like coals. His voice was honey and poison.

“I am the Blood Prince,” he said. “And I will not end.”

Elara stumbled back, drawing her spine-dagger. The creature stepped from the furnace as if stepping out of a bath.

“You killed the others,” he said. “The Siren Queen. The Hollow Witch. Even poor little Peter who just wanted to fly.”

“They were dangerous,” she said, circling him. “They threatened Bellmere.”

“They were Bellmere,” he replied. “Pieces of its dreaming soul.”

He reached for her — not with violence, but pity.

“Do you remember, Elara?” he whispered. “You wrote me. Before the fire. Before the vows. You used to dream, too.”

Her heart cracked. A single image surfaced from the depths of her memory — a notebook, a child’s handwriting, a prince with ruby eyes who would save her from the screaming house she grew up in.

No.

She lunged, driving the dagger into his chest.

He gasped, not in pain — but in betrayal.

“You forgot,” he said, fading. “But I remember. I waited. And I’ll wait again.”

His body collapsed into pages — blank and weightless. The book snapped shut.

This time, she burned it.

She stood there long after the ash cooled, hand trembling. Not from fear — but from the echo of her own handwriting, buried beneath the soot.

The next morning, the children came to the library. She read to them from safe books. But she couldn’t stop glancing at the empty shelf where The Blood Prince had been.

And that night, she found a single page under her pillow:

“He walked through fire for her. He would again.”

Elara lit the lighter. But the flame wouldn’t catch.

⸻

🌀 To Be Continued…

Story Potential:

• Serial Arc: Elara faces more escaped characters — some villains, others heartbreakingly good. But the line between memory, fiction, and reality blurs.

• Reveal: Elara may be more than just a Librarian — perhaps the creator of many of these dangerous tales.

• Conflict: The townspeople begin to question the Librarian’s authority… and whether some stories deserve a second chance.