Inside this old library

I wrote this for an assignment asking to tell a story under 100 words in the first and third person

1. First person 

They sing to me.  

Inside this old library, the manuscripts of human nature consume me. Shakespeare, Whitman, Poe; my mind, waltzes through the crisp inks, gliding with the letters through their melody. The silent written word holds more power than man’s uncensored rambles. Literature does not attack, it invites.  Paragraphs and stanzas nurture my imagination: untouched, unrestrained, and limitless. They serenade my senses, awakening its purest forms. I close my eyes. The pen - a passionate man’s drug - connecting my mind and my body, calls for my soul.  Inside this old library: inspiration.

2. Third Person 

“W.J.” He signs it plain and simple. Castles built and worlds explored, the writer makes love to the words.  Pen, paper, and master: at one. In the quiet of his library, he transfuses his emotions onto new concrete realities.  The crackling from the fireplace sings away rationality. Surrounded by the works of his teachers, he writes carelessly. Spirit running free from judgment.  Through his lyrics the young find wisdom, the old find bliss. Calm, reserved; His mind is a mystery, his work a treasure.