The PPC Posting Board - Latest posts

Hello.

Shh! No - up here. Higher - come on, right at the top. That's right, you can see me now. Hello.

I've been waiting for you for a long time. Two years it's been - no, three now - since my last visitor. He was a lovely man - an old vicar, I think he was - took me back home and kept me in his cozy sitting room. I was sad to leave him, but I had to come back. I needed to wait for you.

Because you're different, aren't you? With you, I could go places - see things - travel the world. And while we go, I can show you new wonders, tell you tales you've never imagines. Interested? I knew you would be.

Yes, the ladder's a little too short, but I have faith in you. Come on - reach up. I'm right here on the top shelf. Just… reach… out…

(Joanina Library, University of Coimbra, Portugal)

hS

In the girl's mind, the library was a vast maze.

Of course she knew it wasn't; she was a very sensible girl, she understood perfectly well that Mrs Phelps' library was just an ordinary public library, a handful of shelves stocked with whatever volumes the local council had been able to acquire. It was comfortable, cozy - but small.

But in the girl's mind, it was enormous, rooms and balconies and stairwells all crisscrossing each other, such that you could never be sure where you would end up, or who you might find there. Down one hall might be the remains of an ancient abbey; down another, a gang of Victorian street-children; down a third, a Time Machine, waiting to whisk her away. It was a place you could lose yourself utterly - and for two hours every afternoon, while her mother was away at bingo, Matilda Wormwood did exactly that.

(Bibliothèque de l'Assemblée nationale du Québec, Canada)

hS

Then Gatsss came jn through a blue tingy and smack Dumblydoor upset his stoopid head with a crowbar.

"Y aren't you wife Daisy," I used.

"Cuz I luv Nik," jayjay said, kossing Nick lovely.

"Oh. Is she sad that she haa to stay wife Tim forver?" I send.

"Nah," he said. He ran pack through the tingy with Nick. "Boi!"

Denn, Dumblydoor woke up and sez "Wie geht es dir!" And smackage my with Gastby's crow bar. "Dragon!" I called out. "Helfen Sie Mich!"

Then, dumbly...

(Gatsby and Nick are from The Great Gatsby and so is "Tim" (Tom). Feel free to bring back Jay if you'd like.)

(Also, the "crowbar ups[ide] his st[u]pid head is a reference to "Word Crimes" by Weird Al.)

It's always nice to meet new people.

Have an Automatic Hugging Machine that just so happens to be in your favorite color!

The library is sealed.

For fifty years it has been this way. The shelves stand untouched, resplendent in gilt and mahogany. The leather-bound books sit silent, row upon row reaching up to the ceiling. The painted gods watch over all, mute and patient in the golden light. The dust lies thick on the stone floor, undisturbed by footprints.

There is a click; the first sound that has disturbed the library for half a century. The door, ancient wood polished smooth by countless years, swings slowly inwards. The dust stirs, a million flecks catching the light and reflecting it back.

In the doorway stand two figures. The elder, withered by age, stoops over a gnarled cane, his white beard dragging upon the floor; the younger is barely more than a boy, his hands clasped in front of him tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

"This-" The elder breaks off, coughing as the dust rises. His voice sounds as dry as the library itself - as if it, too, has been sealed for decades.

"This is your charge," he continues. "The library. In all the living world, only we two have set eyes on it." He holds out a wrinkled hand, a brass key gleaming in it. "There you are; it's yours now."

The boy takes the key in trembling fingers. He holds it up to the golden light, watching the dust dance behind it. Then he fits it into the lock, grasps the handles, and seals the library once more.

(Library, Melk Abbey, Lower Austria)

Have some Canon Cookies! These ones are ginger-or-equivalent-canonical-spice-flavored. {= D

I assume Voyd will have made you acquainted with our Constitution already, and it's linked in the Board header, but here it is anyway, for convenience. Please be sure to read and understand it.

Would you kindly tell us a little bit about yourself? For example, what are your fandoms and/or other interests? What are your preferred pronouns? What do you like about the PPC? Have you read the Original Series and/or any spin-offs? Do you have a favorite story or agent(s)?

I hope you enjoy the community!

~Neshomeh

Hello, Pandora! My name is Damian Thorne, and I hope you like it here! Have some [DATA EXPUNGED]!

Some countries have vast libraries of marble and gilt, each book a precious object treasured by its readers.

Some countries have cozy libraries with thick carpets, centres of the community, where reading and friendship go hand in hand.

Some countries have ancient libraries, their shelves crammed with faded leather and the smell of a thousand years of history.

We are not that lucky. Our libraries are hidden, tucked away in attics and basements, kept secret behind false walls.

Shh! Silence in the library - you don't know who's listening!

(Galerie Sondersammlung Stadtbücherei Landshut, Germany)

hS

Have some popcorn and a big fluffy blanket because it is Hecking Cold!

It's nice to see a new face around here!

Here's a couple of feathers I found.

Welcome to the PPC! Have a Generic Gift, which happens to contain [Insert Whatever You Want]!

Boop.

Tyvm!

Ty ty i shall, can i join the discord?

I'm Kittyauthor, but you can call me KitKat.

It's nice to meet you. Have a glass frog!

Glad to have you with us

Voyd sent me

This is not the bright, candlelit room where lives are written.

That library belongs to a different Death. This one was stocked by the Death who meets you twice: once to ask if you're ready to begin, and once to ask how it went.

Its shelves are stocked with memories - your memories, the ones you wouldn't write in even the fullest autobiography. All the little failures and triumphs, the loves and losses; all bound up in a cover as unique and special as you were.

And when she has borne you aloft in her soft-beating wings; when your family and friends have mourned you and moved on; when all memory of your life has passed from the Earth; still from time to time she will sit, and take out your book, and think of you as she reads.

(German Library, Helsinki, Finland)

(And with gratitude to both Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman)

hS