Photograph by Grey WolfFlowers for my MumR.I.P Mum, died 28 th April 2014
The Library by Grey Wolf – Parts 1 to 5Chapter OneBeing from a relatively poor background, I easily secured a place in halls for the first year of mydegree studies. Halls in this case was a glowering edifice of neo-Gothic construction, rising severalstoreys at the ends, and a full eight at the tower, which was where I had my room. It should not bethought too glamorous, a tower room for the elevator was small, and often out of order, and those sixflights of stairs to my eyrie could really wear one down, especially if in a hurry for class, or after onetoo many at the local pub. But the room was mine alone, and whilst not large was certainly big enoughfor me and the few things I had brought from home - mainly books, and a small collection of CDs, forI had yet to make the jump to a computerised world.The first weeks were something of a blur, vaguely getting to know the post-graduates who were theother occupants of the tower's upper levels, and making firmer friends in the history classes I attended.Lectures were optional, as long as one filed one's papers on time, and after experimenting with a direthree or four I soon gave up. You couldn't ask questions of a lecture - well, I did try but the professor atthe lectern looked down his nose at me and snapped "Not now!". When, then, I thought, and gave upbothering. On a whim I went down to the library, inconveniently situated in a great modern blocksome ten minutes walk away, and nosed around the journals for articles that would answer thequestions that the recalcitrant academic had refused to.I found a few things, but the collections did not seem to go back far enough. On asking the harassedlibrarian, I was curtly informed that the older stock was in storage, or in the "Old Library" and that Icould request something specific, but could by no means browse the entire collection. Since I didn'tknow what I wanted - and to me that was the point of the library, to look through the collections to findwhat it was you needed - I could only mutter an irritated thanks and head back to the Gothic pile that Icalled home. A search for the Old Library found a vaulted room at the opposite end to my eyrie,locked and dark, with a notice on the door that all enquiries should be directed to the librarian in thenew building, and that volunteers for cataloguing were wanted for weekends. I almost took the bait,but then realised it would be of no use to me - I would simply have to log what I was told, where I wastold and how I was told. There would be no chance to explore the collection.I think it was the beginning of the third week that a door I had but scarcely noticed on the secondlanding of the tower stairway was for once opened. Until now, I think, it had always been closed as Ihad raced past, either up or down, and I had evinced no curiosity as to what was within. This day,though, I caught a brief glance of an old-fashioned library, wooden shelves, wooden tables, and thesort of diffused orange lighting I had always imagined went with them. As I hesitated at this vision thedoor was closed, and when I tentatively tried the handle, I found it locked. Probably a post-graduatesonly sort of thing, I thought, and hurried up the stairs to deposit my books and collect my card fordinner.Over the next week I watched the doorway every time I passed it, and took to returning to my roommore often, sometimes on silly little errands, just to see if I could catch a glimpse of the contents. Onceor twice I saw a man enter or leave, always a man, never a woman, dressed in rather dowdy clothes,and carrying some sort of satchel as they crossed the landing. Always these men closed the door, eitherright behind them on entry, or right behind them on departure. I didn't recognise them, but that washardly a surprise, I sometimes barely even recognised my neighbours when I bumped into them in thecanteen or down the student union building.I know it was a Saturday the next time. I had just had an argument with Louise, a girl in my
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In MemoriamMAUREENMumLlyn Clywedog
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Special Cellar PacksBe ready for th
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Question 4Which other authors do yo
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Photograph by Sanuj Goswami
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that the king says would serve well
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1st January 1844New Year and still
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5th May 1845The 5th of May has no p
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against Japan. Quite how far they a
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23rd August 1849One is not certain
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7th November 1852If it is true it i
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There was no expectation on my part
- Page 31 and 32: 25th January 1856It is a sad irony
- Page 33 and 34: Photograph by Sanuj Goswami
- Page 35 and 36: I'm playing with colour, recreating
- Page 37 and 38: One last colour sketch of this view
- Page 39 and 40: Carnivore series by Swaroop Acharje
- Page 41 and 42: I thought I won't be writing at all
- Page 43 and 44: signed in a band and we had success
- Page 45 and 46: time we don’t remember the person
- Page 47 and 48: That night, at Hard Rock Café`, I
- Page 49 and 50: “I told you that I will hear your
- Page 51 and 52: We got out first night of solitude.
- Page 53 and 54: “It is beautiful. It is just beau
- Page 55 and 56: You know, how much I regret those d
- Page 57 and 58: It was then, I had an idea. I am no
- Page 59 and 60: She fell on the cold pavement with
- Page 61 and 62: “Piya na tole mohe, maan ka prem;
- Page 63 and 64: Poets’ CornerInnovate Update #5 f
- Page 65 and 66: The Lighting thief (Carnivore)So th
- Page 67 and 68: Domestic Sheople by Laura Cracknell
- Page 69 and 70: Grey WolfDumornia (The Last Sanctua
- Page 71 and 72: Brian G. DaviesPRETENDI don’t lik
- Page 73 and 74: On board United American Flight 817
- Page 75 and 76: As soon as Steve landed the Boeing
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- Page 104 and 105: "How?" I pressed, knowing more than
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- Page 108 and 109: Elizabeth Audrey MillsLiz Mills was
- Page 110 and 111: K D RoseK.D. Rose is an author and
- Page 113 and 114: Advertshttp://kdroseworld.com/www.i
- Page 115: www.titanpublishinghouse.comTo adve
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