Thursday, May 8

the sound of shredding paper echoed through the library. one could hear the long, thin strips being torn from the books' bodies, sometimes rapidly accompanied by violent crumpling or slowly with deliberation or possibly hesitance. to some extent, based on sound alone, one could distinguish between the soft whisper of the elders and the crisp scream of the children. but the only one around to hear their silent cries for help was that who was showing no mercy.


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