Trinity Library, Ireland. Photo credit: Courtney Hastings
/FICTOGRAPHY/ def. — The intersection of photography (submitted by readers) and fiction (written by me!).
This week’s selected photograph comes from a another student of mine, Courtney Hastings. Courtney is a business communication major, she loves to write and has taken many courses with me. She is also a member of the public relations club, of which I serve as the advisor, and is a member of our honor society, Lambda Pi Eta. She is very involved in campus life, and performs with the marching band as well. She is multi-talented, and appears to be a pretty good photographer as well. When she posted this photo on Facebook, I asked her if it could be used for the Fictography segment, and she agreed. It was shot just days ago, as our students are currently in Ireland, studying abroad this week as part of a class. This was taken at The Trinity Library in Dublin, Ireland. I love the muted effects of the shot. It’s quite lovely.
This story is 603 words. Hope you enjoy it.
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Callie’s Letter
Callie arrived first, before any other staff member on that cool September day. Her library badge was pinned to her white cardigan, and she opened the door. She knew she had about a half an hour to try to find it.
She remembered where she was…at a table near the spiral staircase, and she suspected it was in one of the books she had opened on the table. The letter was folded into sixths: first in half, then in half again, and then in half one last time. She shoved it into it one of the books she’d removed from the shelf when helping a guest, knowing he was not going to check that one out. She’d had it in her hand—because she wouldn’t dare let go of it—and slipped it into the book so no one would see what it was when she was packing up. And then, she’d forgotten to keep that book with her because of the commotion that ensued; the guest needed more books, the hunt continued for the right one, and then, she’d forgotten.
Surprisingly, two of her other colleagues were in as early as she was. She excused herself.
“I have to go look for something I misplaced,” Callie said.
“What is it, love?” The older of the two asked.
“Something special. I left it in a book,” Callie said. She wasn’t going to lie about it, but she wasn’t going to embellish, either.
“Go and have a look, then,” the younger one said, sensing this was something important.
She made her way to the ladder and stood there and stared. Which one was it? She’d had about eight books on the table, as her guest was trying to figure out which ones would be best for his research. What a conundrum! She did not want anyone else to have that letter. She did not want anyone else to find that letter. She did not want anyone else to take that letter.
That letter was hers. All hers.
What if she stuck it in one of the books he’d checked out? Her heart was racing.
She reached for several of the books and started going through them. There was an echo in the place as she opened and closed each of the books she remembered having opened yesterday. She breezed through the pages, looking for it. She’d gone through three books so far.
She replaced those, then removed another four from the shelves; they were higher up on the shelves, so she needed the ladder to assist her.
The fourth book contained nothing. The fifth book, as well, had nothing inside it.
The sixth book.
There it was, wedged between pages forty-one and forty-two. There it was. How foolish she was to put it in there and then forget about it? How could she have forgotten about it? It was the only thing on her mind. The only thing she had thought of for the last two weeks.
She replaced all four of the books back into their rightful places, and shoved the letter into her skirt pocket.
A girl doesn’t get a love letter very often, especially not one you want to reread and keep forever.
Kyle had sent it to her two weeks ago, and ever since, they’d been inseparable. She’d never even had a date before—not until she met him in the coffee shop. Not until she helped him with his research materials. Not until they found they had so much in common.
It was Friday, and they would see each other tonight. Again.
As well, that letter would never be misplaced again.
