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Welcome to the Picture it & Write creative writing exercise. I invite people to join in, comment with your paragraph of fiction to accompany the image. It doesn’t have to follow my story or reflect the same themes. It can be a poem or in a different language (please provide a translation). Anyone who wants to join in, is welcome. This photograph will be reblogged under Ermisenda on tumblr and added to the Picture it & Write gallery on Facebook and Pinterest.
Please continue to write however you’re inspired, but add a tag to the beginning of your post if there’s mature content in order to keep Picture it & Write an engaging event for all of our followers.
Books are my favorite thing in the world. They are just like people, in some ways. Old dust and cracked spines can hide youthful insides, vibrant histories, imagination spilling out to weave tales to put little ones to bed. Others are bright and colorful on the outside but have no substance on the inside. You have to take time to get to know them. It’s a commitment. You can fall in love with a good book.
–Eliabeth Hawthorne
Picture it & Write now supports The Girl Effect, a movement empowering girls to break the cycle of poverty in their communities, countries, and world. All profits from the publication are donated to this cause.
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Share your love for Picture it & write on your blog with the image below. Be proud, and stylish 
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Ermilia 
You speak for me. Every once in a while, I walk along my wall of books to caress their spins and smile. I feel them sigh in response to my touch. ❤
Love it! I talk to my books. Technically I talk to the characters in them, but I look equally crazy either way. Ermisenda sniffs them.
And I thought I was unique. ❤ ❤ ❤
When I donwsized form my home af many years everything went….except …you guessed it…a garage full of boxed books. Living in a seaspn of Transition, there is something very comforting knowing my ‘friends’ are nearby.
I understand that. Any time I move the books are the last things in the boxes and first things out.
I don’t even notice when I pet my books. Sometimes I sit on my sofa with an open book in my lap and gaze at the wall of books across. The warm me and make me smile. 😉
An excellent picture prompt ~I will get to work on this ~
To paraphrase one who was a far better writer than I will ever be:
Books, books, books, books, marching up and down again.
Very appropriate quote for this prompt.
I love the smell of the old library, musty smell of the books, the overwhelming aroma of knowledge that just hits you with your first breath. There is a lot of history here, history that it is my job to know. Like the court documents that detail how a son of the founder of this library tried to get it as his inheritance before he ran into exile with a number of shady character on his heels. Or maybe the old woman who went to the reference section and tried to lift an encyclopedia that was so big she died from the strain. My favorite has to be a copy of Shakespeare that was repeatedly taken out by a young man in the early years of the last century. A young woman working as a librarian took a shine to him and once wrote in the margins,
“My finest prince to seeks to sup eat day the sweet nectar of the Bard. You know not the deep welling in my heart for you.”
The man took it out again and when it was returned. The librarian found a reply.
“Oh sweet lady of the word. I am beside my self with merry heart song for I have the deepest yearning in my heart for you too.”
And so on. In all ten messages and replies were sent between the two. Records don’t have a clue if it came to anything, it may have only been a brief romance, a long forgotten moment in time, preserved, like so many others, in the leather binding of the books.
Very intriguing and interesting take on the picture prompt, Joetwo
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Here is my offering on the interesting prompt ~
Here is my entry for the prompt
http://livinglifegreenspeck.blogspot.in/2014/10/tales-of-bliss.html
Only three more books, and then I would be done with all the last names starting with the letter S. That was my given schedule for however long it took me. Every night, I managed 15 books and they were old and weathered, but cherished all the same. It took a lot of effort to pull the heavy books off the shelves, for I was a smallish library sprite. Most sprites stand at one and half feet tall, but I’m a shy millimeter from being a foot tall.
I was pushing in the last book when I saw Hunter through the shelf cracks. He should have been done long ago since he was a tall sprite. The books seemed effortless in his hands and I was usually the last one to go back into my assigned book. He turned around and caught me looking. I quickly ducked down, but saw his smirk. Dang, he has often caught me looking. I try not to, but It’s his bright green eyes with the dark lashes that catch my gaze and that smirky face.
“Lilly, I know you’re there.”
“No, I’m not,” I said and mentally slapped myself on the forehead.
“Are you spying on me?”
“No, I’m just wrapping up and going home.”
He came around the isle with a book in his hand.
“What are you doing with that.”
“I’m going somewhere different,” He said and started to flip the book open.
“That’s illegal, big no no, you know what they do to sprites who jump stories!”
He looked at me, raised his eyebrows, and said, “Yes, they give us more books to clean.”
He traced his hand across the page and looked up at me.
“What book are you stuck in?”
I actually would give anything to have a different story. Mine is filled with sadness and anger, and an ending I haven’t made it to yet. One day I will know my whole story, but you only get to the end when you’re very old. I try to always aim for the best parts, but sometimes I have to relive the evil ones.
“Yep, you’re in a sad book too,” he said. “Lets go to the ocean for one day.”
My heart flickered with lightness. I would love to go to the ocean. I had heard Emma, my spunky friend, talking about it before. She had said her book had a giant white whale in it, whatever that was, which lived in an ocean.
He placed the book on the shelf.
I gasped.
“Hunter you are dangerous. First you’re talking about jumping stories and now you’re shelving books in wrong spots.”
“Pish Posh, I see Frank do it all the time.”
“That’s great, so if Frank rips a page out of a book will you too?”
He looked hurt. “I would never rip a page out of a book,” he said.
And then he smiled at me and jumped into the book. I just stared at the empty space he left behind. I walked back and forth twice and then he jumped out of the book causing me to fall over backwards with a small yelp.
He started to laugh and so did I, until I heard the familiar sound of a tapping cane. Oh no, it was the library guard sprite. He was always in a bad way.
Gail stopped laughing and held out his hand. I looked at his hand and then up to his still laughing eyes. He smirked and we jumped into the waiting book.
Yay! This was a fun one. Thanks for giving me inspiration. I’m posting this on my site and will credit back to you.
Very good~ I love the world you created ~ )
Thank you 🙂
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Pingback: Picture It and Write!: The Great Library | Hot chocolate and books
So late but here it is! http://hotchocolateandbooks.wordpress.com/2014/11/05/picture-it-and-write-the-great-library/
The weathered leather bindings rest peacefully in warmth. Their souls a dozing in the heavy hung air of the close knit room. Somewhere between sleep and a comfortable dream; there is no place else they could be happier. Aged parchment, an inkwell, and quills are scattered neatly on a writing desk near the small and dirty window of the crooked little shack. A Scribbling scratching can be heard. How ink is laid down. The paper is freshly wounded as it pours into the grain and seeps through tiny tributaries, flooding the veins. The room was silent when a mouse poked his head from a crack in the wall, sensing the room for danger. It scurried to some crumbs and a half-eaten piece of cheese left on a plate, on the floor, just for him. As the mouse was about to begin his feast however, a loud snore erupted from the bed. The mouse squeaked in fright while fleeing to safety. A man with a long beard wearing an eye mask smacked his lips and rolled on his side to smile at the wall. The room returned to silence apart from the gentle deep exhales of the sleeping giant. Out again popped the head of a very hungry mouse.