Oh, Reader

passedAway: false reading: false changed: false obsession: false books: false clearedAway: false talkedStarted: false lateHours: false bookChat: false strangeRec: false eccentric: false gossip: false quiet: false nightClear: false paperwork: false armfulBooks: false windowUp: false boxes: false curious: false oneNight: false twoNight: false threeNight: false visitor: false empty: false covers: false crumbs: false bookPile: false talk: false jokes: false packages: false why: false config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: 30 pagesDevoured: 1 -- Have you heard the story? [align center] [[>>|Ch. 1]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 58 -- There was this man, who lived on the edge of our town. It’s a pretty small town here so it’s one of those everyone knows everyone else kind of deals. Despite living on the edge of town and it being a bit of a trek, he was always out and about in the community. [align center] [[<<|Ch. 1]] [[>>|Ch. 3]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 46 -- He had been a librarian at our small library for 20 years, beloved by all the kids in town. The man loved books, talking about them, reading them, occasionally writing them. The only thing he loved more than books was his wife. [align center] [[<<|Ch. 2]] [[>>|Ch. 4]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 60 -- High school sweethearts they were, married for 30 years, getting hitched the first chance they got. They never were able to start a family but it seemed, at least from the outside, never did bother them none. He was happy as a librarian and she had her small business as a florist, really the quaintest couple. [align center] [[<<|Ch. 3]] [[>>|Ch. 5]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 40 -- [if passedAway === true] Well, a few years ago something happened to her. It hit him pretty hard, understandably. He at first threw himself into his work, spending long hours at the library. Trying to get more involved in the community. [else] Well, a few years ago [[she passed away]]. It hit him pretty hard, understandably. He at first threw himself into his work, spending long hours at the library. Trying to get more involved in the community. [continue] [align center] [[<<|Ch. 4]] [[>>|Ch. 6]]

passedAway: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 config.header.center: ". . ." wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 81 -- She had been having some health problems in the year up until she died, but it seemed in that last month it escalated. They weren’t entirely sure what was wrong with her as they weren’t able to get enough tests run in time, they figured something wrong with her heart. She died peacefully though, at home, in her sleep. Just didn’t wake up one morning. It was a preferable way to go if you ask me. [align center] [[Back|Ch. 5]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 50 -- [if changed === true && reading === false] But then at some point, it seemed like something happened to him. He started taking sick days from work, would come into work somewhat disheveled and distracted. Wasn’t as friendly and approachable as he used to be. He spent all his days behind the small desk just [[reading]]. [if reading === true && changed === false] But then at some point, it seemed like something [[changed]]. He started taking sick days from work, would come into work somewhat disheveled and distracted. Wasn’t as friendly and approachable as he used to be. He spent all his days behind the small desk just sitting there with a book in his hands. [if changed === true && reading === true] But then at some point, it seemed like something happened to him. He started taking sick days from work, would come into work somewhat disheveled and distracted. Wasn’t as friendly and approachable as he used to be. He spent all his days behind the small desk just sitting there with a book in his hands. [if changed === false && reading === false] But then at some point it, seemed like something [[changed]]. He started taking sick days from work, would come into work somewhat disheveled and distracted. Wasn’t as friendly and approachable as he used to be. He spent all his days behind the small desk just [[reading]]. [continue] [align center] [[<<|Ch. 5]] [[>>|Ch. 7]]

changed: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 config.header.center: ". . ." wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 55 -- I mean, stages of grief and all you know? I think maybe the sadness part finally hit him and he wasn’t ready to admit she was gone, that the home they shared was emptier without her. Everyone who has ever lost someone could empathize with what he was going through. [align center] [[Back|Ch. 6]]

reading: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 41 config.header.center: ". . ." -- Heck he had always loved reading, it’s why he became a librarian after all. It’s one of the things his wife loved about him most, nose always in a book. What could we fault him for wanting some escapism to help him through a tough time. [align center] [[Back|Ch. 6]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 87 -- [if books === true && obsession === false] He started getting more reclusive, the library hired on a new librarian and he only worked one day a week. In those days he spent most of his time, at a small table at the back of the library just surround by piles of books, to the point where you could barely see him. It had seemed like the inability to cope with the passing of his wife and the absence of her in his life had turned him into a voracious reader to the point of [[obsession]]. [if books === false && obsession === true] He started getting more reclusive, the library hired on a new librarian and he only worked one day a week. In those days he spent most of his time at a small table at the back of the library just surround by [[books]]. With her gone it was clear there was a hole in his life he was trying to fill with his books. [if books === true && obsession === true] He started getting more reclusive, the library hired on a new librarian and he only worked one day a week. In those days he spent most of his time at a small table at the back of the library just surround by piles of books, to the point where you could barely see him. With her gone it was clear there was a hole in his life he was trying to fill with his books. [if books === false && obsession === false] He started getting more reclusive, the library hired on a new librarian and he only worked one day a week. In those days he spent most of his time at a small table at the back of the library just surround by [[books]]. It had seemed like the inability to cope with the passing of his wife and the absence of her in his life had turned him into a voracious reader to the point of [[obsession]]. [continue] [align center] [[<<|Ch. 6]] [[>>|Ch. 8]]

books: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 config.header.center: ". . ." wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 43 -- Books of any kind it seemed, no longer just fiction. Non-fiction, biography, textbooks, sometimes even city council records minutes. It seemed he would just grab whatever he could. Once he finished one book he was on the next. [align center] [[Back|Ch. 7]]

obsession: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 59 config.header.center: ". . ." -- Obsession didn’t entirely seem right, he was reading and reading but sometimes he wouldn’t take his time with them, he wasn’t reading the books to be read and enjoyed, it was if he was trying to get through them all as fast as possible, like he was chasing an end that wouldn’t come fast enough. [align center] [[Back|Ch. 7]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 51 -- [if clearedAway === true] Neighbours started seeing stacks of packages pile up outside on the porch outside of his front door throughout the day. The packages stayed out way past midnight, with people assuming they must haven’t been cleared out in the early hours of the morning. [else] Neighbours started seeing stacks of packages pile up outside on the porch outside of his front door throughout the day. Small packages the size of books, the heights of the towers changing day to day but the only thing that didn’t change was each night they were [[cleared away]]. [continue] [align center] [[<<|Ch. 7]] [[>>|Ch. 9]]

clearedAway: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 config.header.center: ". . ." wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 24 -- Just like that, they were gone. No one heard them being moved in and out of the house either. [align center] [[Back|Ch. 8]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 84 -- [if talkedStarted === true] We all felt bad for him you see, it seemed like he really wasn’t handling this well and he didn’t have any other family so losing the last person he had, you could understand someone going off the deep end a little with something like that, right? Well, for the most part, everyone still tried to check in on him but also give him some space, but he was acting quite strange and well… in small towns talk spreads fast. [else] We all felt bad for him you see, it seemed like he really wasn’t handling this well and he didn’t have any other family so losing the last person he had, you could understand someone going off the deep end a little with something like that, right? Well, for the most part, everyone still tried to check in on him but also give him some space that it seemed like he needed, but, well, people [[started to talk]]. [continue] [align center] [[<<|Ch. 8]] [[>>|Ch. 10]]

talkedStarted: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 config.header.center: ". . ." wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 72 -- Well, you know, gossip and how it goes. People started talking about how they saw him less around the library, the parks, the hardware store. The one thing that got everyone to perk up a littler was the cashiers at the grocery store said they hadn’t seen him shopping there in two weeks, and usually shopped there twice a week. That one got folks a little worried. [align center] [[Back|Ch. 9]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 94 -- [if lateHours === true && bookChat === false] But talk is just talk sometimes in a small town. After a few weeks it seemed like he was starting to get better. Was back to working at the library again a few days in the week, staying well past midnight when he did. Had some spring in his step you know. Was back to joking with visitors to the library. No one had really felt comfortable asking him if he was okay or what exactly was going on, so they just would [[chat with him about books]]. [if lateHours === false && bookChat === true] But talk is just talk sometimes in a small town. After a few weeks it seemed like he was starting to get better. Was back to working at the library again a few days a week, [[working late hours again]], often the only one closing up. Had some spring in his step you know. Was back to joking with visitors to the library. No one really felt comfortable making small talk with him about books anymore either, but it was the more polite thing to do. [if lateHours === true && bookChat === true] But talk is just talk sometimes in a small town. After a few weeks it seemed like he was starting to get better. Was back to working at the library again a few days a week, staying well past midnight when he did. Had some spring in his step you know. Was back to joking with visitors to the library. No one really felt comfortable making small talk with him about books anymore either, but it was the more polite thing to do. [if lateHours === false && bookChat === false] But talk is just talk sometimes in a small town. After a few weeks it seemed like he was starting to get better. Was back to working at the library again a few days a week, [[working late hours again]], often the only one closing up. Had some spring in his step you know. Was back to joking with visitors to the library. No one had really felt comfortable asking him if he was okay or what exactly was going on, so they just would [[chat with him about books]]. [continue] [align center] [[<<|Ch. 9]] [[>>|Ch. 11]]

lateHours: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 config.header.center: ". . ." wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 48 -- It wasn’t even like the library was open that late either, closed promptly at 8 every day except for Saturday which it closed at 6, closed Sundays. But people would see his car in the library parking lot well passed midnight some nights. [align center] [[Back|Ch. 10]]

bookChat: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 60 config.header.center: ". . ." -- He started to sound a little, well strange, when talking about what he was reading. How he suddenly had this voracious appetite for reading and like nothing to fill it. Telling people how delicious a recent title he read was, or, if he didn’t like, how the writing lacked a certain flavour that others did. [align center] [[Back|Ch. 10]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 78 -- [if strangeRec === true && eccentric === false && gossip === false] It seemed in his time spent reading a lot he had a long list of recommendations for folks coming into the library that they noted. His recommendations were starting to get…. well I don’t know I’d never heard anyone talk about books like that. But maybe he was just starting to get [[little eccentric]], we had all hoped. Though his recommendations with the [[gossip]] that started buzzing, some of us had our worries… [if strangeRec === false && eccentric === true && gossip === false] It seemed in his time spent reading a lot he had a long list of recommendations for folks coming into the library that they noted. His recommendations were starting to get…. [[a little strange]]. Nobody really want to come outright and say he was losing his mind. Though his recommendations with the [[gossip]] that started buzzing, some of us had our worries… [if strangeRec === false && eccentric === false && gossip === true] It seemed in his time spent reading a lot he had a long list of recommendations for folks coming into the library that they noted. His recommendations were starting to get…. [[a little strange]]. But maybe he was just starting to get [[little eccentric]], we had all hoped. Now I know what folks were saying, about his reclusiveness and his obsession with the books, and what was he getting up to up there… [if strangeRec === true && eccentric === true && gossip === false] It seemed in his time spent reading a lot he had a long list of recommendations for folks coming into the library that they noted. His recommendations were starting to get…. well I don’t know I’d never heard anyone talk about books like that. Nobody really want to come outright and say he was losing his mind. Though his recommendations with the [[gossip]] that started buzzing, some of us had our worries… [if strangeRec === true && eccentric === false && gossip === true] It seemed in his time spent reading a lot he had a long list of recommendations for folks coming into the library that they noted.His recommendations were starting to get…. well I don’t know I’d never heard anyone talk about books like that. But maybe he was just starting to get [[little eccentric]], we had all hoped. Now I know what folks were saying, about his reclusiveness and his obsession with the books, and what was he getting up to up there… [if strangeRec === false && eccentric === true && gossip === true] It seemed in his time spent reading a lot he had a long list of recommendations for folks coming into the library that they noted. His recommendations were starting to get…. [[a little strange]]. Nobody really want to come outright and say he was losing his mind. Now I know what folks were saying, about his reclusiveness and his obsession with the books, and what was he getting up to up there… [if strangeRec === true && eccentric === true && gossip === true] It seemed in his time spent reading a lot he had a long list of recommendations for folks coming into the library that they noted. His recommendations were starting to get…. well I don’t know I’d never heard anyone talk about books like that. Nobody really want to come outright and say he was losing his mind. Now I know what folks were saying, about his reclusiveness and his obsession with the books, and what was he getting up to up there… [if strangeRec === false && eccentric === false && gossip === false] It seemed in his time spent reading a lot he had a long list of recommendations for folks coming into the library that they noted. His recommendations were starting to get…. [[a little strange]]. But maybe he was just starting to get [[little eccentric]], we had all hoped. Though his recommendations with the [[gossip]] that started buzzing, some of us had our worries… [continue] [align center] [[<<|Ch. 10]] [[>>|Ch. 12]]

strangeRec: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 config.header.center: ". . ." wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 52 -- I mean the books themselves weren’t strange just, the way he would tell people about them, “oh you’ll want to savour this one” “this one is real good to chomp your teeth into” “read this as an appetizer, but you’ll want to read something more substantial later”. [align center] [[Back|Ch. 11]]

eccentric: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 config.header.center: ". . ." wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 65 -- He was reading a lot and he didn’t have anyone at home to talk to, just the folks at the library, so maybe his way of talking was just starting to get a little strange because of the books he was reading? Maybe he was getting a little too lost in their worlds or the lack of consistent company meant his conversational skills were failing. [align center] [[Back|Ch. 11]]

gossip: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 config.header.center: ". . ." wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 66 -- Okay yes it was weird he hadn’t been to the grocery store in a while, yes it was weird the way he started talking about books, but that didn’t mean anything did it? I mean after you lose someone, you just always have folks doting on you, bringing you food and taking care of you, we were sure he was fine. [align center] [[Back|Ch. 11]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 70 -- [if quiet === true] Then two weeks later we didn’t see him at all. He suddenly stopped working at the library and coming into town at all. If you asked the other librarian about it she would suddenly get stern, and tell you it’s none of your business. We were worried sure, but he was a grown man and was capable of taking care of himself. [else] Then two weeks later we didn’t see him at all. He suddenly stopped working at the library and coming into town at all. We were all curious as to what happened to him, folks tried asking the other long term librarian what had happened but she was awfully [[quiet about it]]. We were worried sure, but he was a grown man and was capable of taking care of himself. [continue] [align center] [[<<|Ch. 11]] [[>>|Ch. 13]]

quiet: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 config.header.center: ". . ." wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 80 -- She was quiet about it, well to everyone but her closest friend at the library, and an overheard conversation became an overheard conversation, and before you know it everyone in town was overhearing conversations about it. As told through the grape vine she came in one evening late having forgotten her reading glasses at work and found him there. So many books were destroyed. And something about him, eating something? Definitely couldn’t be true though. [align center] [[Back|Ch. 12]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 50 -- [if nightClear === true] The weeks went by. He didn’t come out of his house, no one saw him in town. Every day more and more packages of books being delivered to his house piled up on the front door, and in the dead of night they were gone, no one saw him take them. [else] The weeks went by. He didn’t come out of his house, no one saw him in town. Every day more and more packages of books being delivered to his house piled up on the front door, and [[every night they were cleared away]]. [continue] [align center] [[<<|Ch. 12]] [[>>|Ch. 14]]

nightClear: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 config.header.center: ". . ." wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 42 -- It became eerily consistent. Packages piled up during the day, in the dead of night without noise or movement were gone. But… where were all those books going? Surely he wasn’t filling up his house with books? [align center] [[Back|Ch. 13]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 106 -- [if paperwork === false && armfulBooks === true] It was about two months before anyone saw him again, he came into the library looking to take out some books. He and the other librarian spoke in tense hushed voices behind the counter for a few minutes before a look of sadness and resignation and maybe some amount of pity passed over her face and she let him take as many books, all old ones, as much as he could carry. As she checked them out she was writing on a pad of paper the titles. As he left she sighed heavily, and grabbed some [[paperwork]] from the office and begun filling it out. [if paperwork === true && armfulBooks === false] It was about two months before anyone saw him again, he came into the library looking to take out some books. He and the other librarian spoke in tense hushed voices behind the counter for a few minutes before a look of sadness and resignation and maybe some amount of pity passed over her face and she let him take an [[armful of books with him]]. As she checked them out she was writing on a pad of paper the titles of the books. As he left she grabbed a stack of deaccession forms, and began filling them out. [if paperwork === true && armfulBooks === true] It was about two months before anyone saw him again, he came into the library looking to take out some books. He and the other librarian spoke in tense hushed voices behind the counter for a few minutes before a look of sadness and resignation and maybe some amount of pity passed over her face and she let him take as many books, all old ones, as much as he could carry. As she checked them out she was writing on a pad of paper the titles of the books. As he left she grabbed a stack of deaccession forms, and began filling them out. [if paperwork === false && armfulBooks === false] It was about two months before anyone saw him again, he came into the library looking to take out some books. He and the other librarian spoke in tense hushed voices behind the counter for a few minutes before a look of sadness and resignation and maybe some amount of pity passed over her face and she let him take an [[armful of books with him]]. As she checked them out she was writing on a pad of paper the titles of the books. As he left she sighed heavily, and grabbed some [[paperwork]] from the office and begun filling it out. [continue] [align center] [[<<|Ch. 13]] [[>>|Ch. 15]]

armfulBooks: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 config.header.center: ". . ." wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 61 -- It seemed to be just a bunch of dusty old books, almost falling apart, the kind of stuff that would end up in the bargain bin of the library book sale every year. He didn’t seem to be pleased with their quality but at least was content with the quantity of books he was taking away. [align center] [[Back|Ch. 14]]

paperwork: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 config.header.center: ". . ." wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 57 -- Deaccession forms. The library didn’t really have much use to remove books out of circulation as it was a small enough library already. But there was a concerning number of books no longer found in circulation over the coming weeks and it seemed like she a lot of paperwork she was going to be doing. [align center] [[Back|Ch. 14]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 84 -- [if windowUp === true && boxes === false && curious === false] That was the last time any one of us ever saw him alive again. Even before he died it seemed like he had become a ghost. For the most part it continued for a good four months of him not coming into town, [[boxes and boxes]] of packages piling up on his front porch. Cleared out every night. Recycling of the packages put out neatly every Friday morning. And yet, there was something that seemed [[curious]] about all this. [if windowUp === false && boxes === true && curious === false] That was the last time any one of us ever saw him alive again. I mean, his neighbours said they sometimes saw silhouettes of him in the [[upstairs windows]]. For the most part it continued for a good four months of him not coming into town, dozens of books being delivered each day. Cleared out every night. Recycling of the packages put out neatly every Friday morning. And yet, there was something that seemed [[curious]] about all this. [if windowUp === false && boxes === false && curious === true] That was the last time any one of us ever saw him alive again. I mean, his neighbours said they sometimes saw silhouettes of him in the [[upstairs windows]]. For the most part it continued for a good four months of him not coming into town, [[boxes and boxes]] of packages piling up on his front porch. Cleared out every night. Recycling of the packages put out neatly every Friday morning. There was just something really wrong about all this but we couldn’t say how. [if windowUp === true && boxes === true && curious === false] That was the last time any one of us ever saw him alive again. Even before he died it seemed like he had become a ghost. For the most part it continued for a good four months of him not coming into town, dozens of books being delivered each day. Cleared out every night. Recycling of the packages put out neatly every Friday morning. And yet, there was something that seemed [[curious]] about all this. [if windowUp === true && boxes === false && curious === true] That was the last time any one of us ever saw him alive again. Even before he died it seemed like he had become a ghost. For the most part it continued for a good four months of him not coming into town, [[boxes and boxes]] of packages piling up on his front porch. Cleared out every night. Recycling of the packages put out neatly every Friday morning. There was just something really wrong about all this but we couldn’t say how. [if windowUp === false && boxes === true && curious === true] That was the last time any one of us ever saw him alive again. I mean, his neighbours said they sometimes saw silhouettes of him in the [[upstairs windows]]. For the most part it continued for a good four months of him not coming into town, dozens of books being delivered each day. Cleared out every night. Recycling of the packages put out neatly every Friday morning. There was just something really wrong about all this but we couldn’t say how. [if windowUp === true && boxes === true && curious === true] That was the last time any one of us ever saw him alive again. Even before he died it seemed like he had become a ghost. For the most part it continued for a good four months of him not coming into town, dozens of books being delivered each day. Cleared out every night. Recycling of the packages put out neatly every Friday morning. There was just something really wrong about all this but we couldn’t say how. [if windowUp === false && boxes === false && curious === false] That was the last time any one of us ever saw him alive again. I mean, his neighbours said they sometimes saw silhouettes of him in the [[upstairs windows]]. For the most part it continued for a good four months of him not coming into town, [[boxes and boxes]] of packages piling up on his front porch. Cleared out every night. Recycling of the packages put out neatly every Friday morning. And yet, there was something that seemed [[curious]] about all this. [continue] [align center] [[<<|Ch. 14]] [[>>|Ch. 16]]

windowUp: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 config.header.center: ". . ." wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 71 -- Facing the front of the house were the guest room and the library. Neighbours had seen him plenty in the library many evenings, table lamp on, assuming he was just reading away like he always did. The silhouettes through the guest room’s drawn curtains were something else though, though we figure maybe…. he just couldn’t sleep in his own bed anymore on account of his wife. [align center] [[Back|Ch. 15]]

boxes: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 config.header.center: ". . ." wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 44 -- It started to get a little zany really, 30-50 little boxes of books just piling up on his porch every day, cleared out every morning. All from different online book sellers or big chain stores or what have you. [align center] [[Back|Ch. 15]]

curious: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 config.header.center: ". . ." wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 68 -- Now, I know it’s best to mind your own business and we all do our best to, but some folks couldn’t help but…. keep track. They said there had to have been hundreds of books delivered by this point and his house wasn’t that big of a house so just… where was he keeping all those books? Was he really reading that much? [align center] [[Back|Ch. 15]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 67 -- [if oneNight === true && twoNight === false && threeNight === false] It was when one night the packages that hadn’t been cleared from the porch in the night that folks began to worry. The second day passed, more packages piled up during the day into the [[second night]]. It was the morning of the [[third day]] when they hadn’t been cleared out that the cops were called. [if oneNight === false && twoNight === true && threeNight === false] It was when [[one night]] the packages that hadn’t been cleared from the porch in the night and stood out damp from the morning dew that his neighbours had an inkling something was wrong. The second day passed, and the dread started setting in for his neighbours. It was the morning of the [[third day]] when they hadn’t been cleared out that the cops were called. [if oneNight === false && twoNight === false && threeNight === true] It was when [[one night]] the packages that hadn’t been cleared from the porch in the night and stood out damp from the morning dew that his neighbours had an inkling something was wrong. The second day passed, more packages piled up during the day into the [[second night]]. It was the morning of the third day when they knew what to expect, and the cops were called to deal with it. [if oneNight === true && twoNight === true && threeNight === false] It was when one night the packages that hadn’t been cleared from the porch in the night that folks began to worry. The second day passed, and the dread started setting in for his neighbours. It was the morning of the [[third day]] when they hadn’t been cleared out that the cops were called. [if oneNight === true && twoNight === false && threeNight === true] It was when one night the packages that hadn’t been cleared from the porch in the night that folks began to worry. The second day passed, more packages piled up during the day into the [[second night]]. It was the morning of the third day when they knew what to expect, and the cops were called to deal with it. [if oneNight === false && twoNight === true && threeNight === true] It was when [[one night]] the packages that hadn’t been cleared from the porch in the night and stood out damp from the morning dew that his neighbours had an inkling something was wrong. The second day passed, and the dread started setting in for his neighbours. It was the morning of the third day when they knew what to expect, and the cops were called to deal with it. [if oneNight === true && twoNight === true && threeNight === true] It was when one night the packages that hadn’t been cleared from the porch in the night that folks began to worry. The second day passed, and the dread started setting in for his neighbours. It was the morning of the third day when they knew what to expect, and the cops were called to deal with it. [if oneNight === false && twoNight === false && threeNight === false] It was when [[one night]] the packages that hadn’t been cleared from the porch in the night and stood out damp from the morning dew that his neighbours had an inkling something was wrong. The second day passed, more packages piled up during the day into the [[second night]]. It was the morning of the [[third day]] when they hadn’t been cleared out that the cops were called. [continue] [align center] [[<<|Ch. 15]] [[>>|Ch. 17]]

oneNight: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 config.header.center: ". . ." wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 18 -- One night was worrisome, but maybe he just lost track of his routine. [align center] [[Back|Ch. 16]]

twoNight: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 config.header.center: ". . ." wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 17 -- Two nights was concerning, maybe something had happened, maybe he was injured? [align center] [[Back|Ch. 16]]

threeNight: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 config.header.center: ". . ." wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 17 -- By then everyone knew. No one was living in that house anymore. [align center] [[Back|Ch. 16]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 28 -- [if visitor === true] What they saw inside was… a fright. In all this time since this started months ago, he never let anyone in. . . [else] What they saw inside was… a fright. In all this time since this started months ago he hadn’t taken a single [[visitor]] and now we knew why. [continue] [align center] [[<<|Ch. 16]] [[>>|Ch. 18]]

visitor: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 config.header.center: ". . ." wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 83 -- It’s not that people in town didn’t try to visit or straight up ignored him, quite the contrary, especially near the end. Every time someone would come by he would tell them he was renovating the house and so it was quite the mess and not in the state for guests. By the end he just told people he was sick with a stomach ache and ended the conversation abruptly, often closing the door right in their faces. [align center] [[Back|Ch. 17]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 54 -- [if empty === true] The downstairs was nearly untouched, everything clean and proper in its place. A bundle of boxes tied together with twine sat next to the door ready to be recycled. Expecting to find rotting food in the kitchen the cops were surprised to see a dust caked kitchen, not used in months. [else] The downstairs was nearly untouched, everything clean and proper in its place. A bundle of boxes tied together with twine sat next to the door ready to be recycled. Expecting to find rotting food in the kitchen the cops were surprised to see [[empty cupboards and an empty refrigerator]]. [continue] [align center] [[<<|Ch. 17]] [[>>|Ch. 19]]

empty: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 config.header.center: ". . ." wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 48 -- There had been nothing. For a while. The cupboard shelves were covered in dust, whatever small canned things that may have remained were covered in dust too. The kitchen was completely sterile and clean save for the layer of dust that covered everything. [align center] [[Back|Ch. 18]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 35 -- Moving upstairs is where the house started getting a bit more disheveled. They checked first the bathroom, clean and proper for the most part, save for a little amount of grime. [align center] [[<<|Ch. 18]] [[>>|Ch. 20]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 64 -- [if covers === true] They next checked the guest room, which had a perfectly made bed, folded linens on top, clean nightstands and a dresser and the two foot pile of ripped off book jackets and hardcovers strewn about the floor. They later collected them all and said there were over 400 different books that had been destroyed, just the covers remained, the pages within were never recovered. [else] They next checked the guest room, which had a perfectly made bed, folded linens on top, clean nightstands and a dresser and the two foot pile of ripped off book jackets and hardcovers strewn about the floor. They later collected them all and said there were over 400 different books that had been destroyed, [[their covers discarded about the room]]. [continue] [align center] [[<<|Ch. 19]] [[>>|Ch. 21]]

covers: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 config.header.center: ". . ." wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 85 -- Hardcovers, softcovers, books jackets, spiral bindings with clear acrylic cover sheets, folders, folios. Everything was just scattered everywhere. The covers on the first few layers of the pile were all so neatly removed, cut off their bindings, but the more you got to the top of the pile, the less care it looked into them being removed from their books. The smattering of covers on the top of the pile clearly having been ripped off the book blocks by hand. [align center] [[Back|Ch. 20]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 81 -- They next looked into the main bedroom. They found more ripped apart book covers scattered on the floor, though not as much as in the guest room. As well a neatly made bed whereupon it was one of his wife’s dresses, delicately stuffed with ripped up softcovers. Posed in the repose of a corpse on the left side of the bed, a noticeable tussling of the sheets next to it showing where his body had lied. [align center] [[<<|Ch. 20]] [[>>|Ch. 22]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 13 -- The last room they looked into was the library. [align center] [[<<|Ch. 21]] [[>>|Ch. 23]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 65 -- [if bookPile === true] It took two police officers pushing on the door to open it. The door was blocked by just books, just books, can you really believe that? Books in stacks sat in the way of the door and the littered the room, forming tighter concentric circles into the small patch of floor where the man was found. [else] It took two police officers pushing on the door to open it. They had expected to find a heavy armoire or a chair in front of the door, but it was simply a [[pile of books]]. Books in stacks sat in the way of the door and the littered the room, forming tighter concentric circles into the small patch of floor where the man was found. [continue] [align center] [[<<|Ch. 22]] [[>>|Ch. 24]]

bookPile: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 config.header.center: ". . ." wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 61 -- I guess they figured out were about those hundreds of books had gone. There wasn’t even as many as there had been covers ripped off in the other room. But there was enough piled up in that small room, its bookshelves bare and almost toppled, that you could barely see the floor in between the stacks. [align center] [[Back|Ch. 23]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 76 -- [if crumbs === true] Curled up in the fetal position, a book clutched in his left hand, the half-torn paper still attached at the spine in his right. His mouth was agape, wads of paper packed his cheeks. There were bits and scraps of paper stuck to his chin like crumbs. Crumbs, the police said, the bits of paper were stuck to his face like crumbs of food. He had been dead for three days at this point. [else] Curled up in the fetal position, a book clutched in his left hand, the half-torn paper still attached at the spine in his right. His mouth was agape, wads of paper packed his cheeks. There were bits and scraps of paper stuck to his chin like crumbs. Crumbs spelling out a fractured sentence of [[“if”, “had”, “he”]]. He had been dead for three days at this point. [continue] [align center] [[<<|Ch. 23]] [[>>|Ch. 25]]

crumbs: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 config.header.center: ". . ." wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 48 -- Crumbs. Stuck to his face with saliva, the bits that fell out of his mouth. You could see the bits of paper flecked in between his teeth. His hands and mouth covered in so many small cuts. Paper cuts. Paper cuts and crumbs. [align center] [[Back|Ch. 24]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 62 -- The cops were instructed to not tell the details of this story, given the horrendous nature of how he had died, but one overheard conversation lead to another overheard conversation and well you know how it goes. By the end of the week everyone knew how he had died. What he had been doing with all those books. [align center] [[<<|Ch. 24]] [[>>|Ch. 26]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 32 -- The autopsy report was never revealed publicly, it was requested by the police due to the concerning nature of his death, not that they had suspected foul play. [align center] [[<<|Ch. 25]] [[>>|Ch. 27]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 73 -- The report was inconclusive as to the cause of death, whether it was the high levels of ink from the books he had been consuming that was found in his blood or whether it was the compacted paper pulp in his large intestines that had caused them to rupture and bleed out. It seemed his body had kept living longer than it should have in its state of destruction. [align center] [[<<|Ch. 26]] [[>>|Ch. 28]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 31 -- [if talk === true && jokes === false && packages === false] The fallout of his death rocked the community. People talked, there were people remembering his [[jokes]], there was finally insight into the piles of [[packages]] that had been piling up outside his home every day. [if talk === false && jokes === true && packages === false] The fallout of his death rocked the community. There was talk about [[talk]], people remembered, there was finally insight into the piles of [[packages]] that had been piling up outside his home every day. [if talk === false && jokes === false && packages === true] The fallout of his death rocked the community. There was talk about [[talk]], there were people remembering his [[jokes]], we all finally understood. [if talk === true && jokes === true && packages === false] The fallout of his death rocked the community. People talked, people remembered, there was finally insight into the piles of [[packages]] that had been piling up outside his home every day. [if talk === true && jokes === false && packages === true] The fallout of his death rocked the community. People talked, there were people remembering his [[jokes]], we all finally understood. [if talk === false && jokes === true && packages === true] The fallout of his death rocked the community. There was talk about [[talk]], people remembered, we all finally understood. [if talk === true && jokes === true && packages === true] The fallout of his death rocked the community. People talked, people remembered, we all finally understood. [if talk === false && jokes === false && packages === false] The fallout of his death rocked the community. There was talk about [[talk]], there were people remembering his [[jokes]], there was finally insight into the piles of [[packages]] that had been piling up outside his home every day. [continue] [align center] [[<<|Ch. 27]] [[>>|Ch. 29]]

talk: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 config.header.center: ". . ." wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 59 -- So it started to make sense then why no one had seen him at the grocery store in months, how no one was taking care of him and bringing him food because he turned away every visitor, how his kitchen hadn’t been used in months because he had plenty of something else to eat. [align center] [[Back|Ch. 28]]

jokes: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 config.header.center: ". . ." wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 60 -- He always was a “voracious reader”, and how suddenly he felt like he couldn’t “get his fill”, and how reading was one of the most “delectable experiences” for him, and maybe just how he joked about the books? How he could just “gobble them right up” if he didn’t restrain himself? Yeah, jokes. [align center] [[Back|Ch. 28]]

packages: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 config.header.center: ". . ." wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 25 -- Hundreds. Hundreds and hundreds of books had been delivered. We figured out where they were being stored now, I guess. [align center] [[Back|Ch. 28]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 38 pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 30 -- [if why === true] We were all too scared to ask why. We were all too afraid to know something we maybe shouldn’t know. Lest we see it in ourselves. [else] The one thing no one ever was able to figure out was [[why]]? Did he eat all those books? What did he gain out of them? What level did his love of reading twist and pervert into actually consuming the books? [continue] [align center] [[<<|Ch. 28]] [[>>|Ch. 30]]

why: true pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 config.header.center: ". . ." wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 104 -- Just why did he start eating the books? Like I guess he lost his mind from grief and turned to reading but at what point did that escalate? At what point was reading not enough? Did he eat them because he loved them? Or he needed them to... sustain him? Somehow? Or maybe it was something else. A hunger lived in him he could no longer control, no longer quell. What drew him to reading was a desire, a need for fulfilment, had it gotten perverted somehow? Or maybe it wasn't even a matter of why, but when? [align center] [[Back|Ch. 29]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 8 pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 -- But you know reader. [align center] [[>>|Ch. 31]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 33 pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 -- You know the level in which curiosity becomes hunger. In which the want, the need for words, and more and more and more makes a voracious reader truly carnivorous. [align center] [[>>|Was it]]

config.header.center: passage.name config.header.left: "Words consumed: {wordsConsumed}" config.header.right: "Pages devoured: {pagesDevoured}" wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 37 pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 -- Look at you, at the crumbs of this story you’ve left behind. Of paragraphs scarfed until you’ve had your fill, leaving half-eaten sentences strewn about your plate. [align center] [[>>|all]]

config.header.center: passage.name wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 34 -- The story about the man who by the end of months of isolation, became more book than man? I know that sounds ridiculous but… Let me tell you this story. [align center] [[<<|Introduction]] [[>>|Ch. 2]]

config.header.center: passage.name config.header.left: "Words consumed: {wordsConsumed}" config.header.right: "Pages devoured: {pagesDevoured}" wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 76 pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 -- The morsels of this story, of fact and fiction I presented you, snatched greedily and rendered to your wanting tongue and teeth. What parts of this story did you not consume? Were there any? Words that you did not let wallow on your palette. Letting the scraps of sentences fall from your mouth back into the story. A banquet glazed in the slobbering spittle of you, reader. [align center] [[>>|enough?]]

config.header.center: passage.name config.header.left: "Words consumed: {wordsConsumed}" config.header.right: "Pages devoured: {pagesDevoured}" wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 56 pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 -- What parts of the story did you return to? The ones that you could? To get a second helping of fact, of fiction, of the hunger and inquisitive eye to see if the menu had changed? If I had a new morsel to offer up to you? [align center] [[>>|Did you]]

config.header.center: passage.name config.header.left: "Words consumed: {wordsConsumed}" config.header.right: "Pages devoured: {pagesDevoured}" wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 66 pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 -- You too know what it means to hunger, to consume. To press words into teeth and tongue and swallow them whole. Did you savour them? The words? Did you take your time to chew them slowly or did you simply eat and eat and eat, fervent for anything presented to you, always wanting more, more, MORE. [align center] [[>>|eat]]

config.header.center: passage.name config.header.left: "Words consumed: {wordsConsumed}" config.header.right: "Pages devoured: {pagesDevoured}" wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 21 pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 -- You see them now reader, the words, the pages, can you stop? [align center] [[>>|your fill?]]

config.header.center: passage.name config.header.left: "Words consumed: {wordsConsumed}" config.header.right: "Pages devoured: {pagesDevoured}" wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 51 pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 -- Can you stop now that you have started? Or with anxious hands do you click? Like the man’s hands, anxious, shaky, ripping another page, another sentence. Another lifetime of stories, of tales, of tragedy, of achievements, of accomplishments, into his hungry maw. [align center] [[>>|Do you]]

config.header.center: passage.name config.header.left: "Words consumed: {wordsConsumed}" config.header.right: "Pages devoured: {pagesDevoured}" wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 65 pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 -- Unable to control himself, unable to get his fill. Unable to stop until the story was done. Until his story was done. Dear reader, what of yours? His end has come, his story ceases, but what of yours? Will you continue to consume my words? The words of others? Until the day your own word bloated body finally comes to rest? [align center] [[>>|still hunger?]]

config.header.center: passage.name config.header.left: "Words consumed: {wordsConsumed}" config.header.right: "Pages devoured: {pagesDevoured}" wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 41 pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 -- I do hope it will be fulfilling, I do hope it will be peaceful. And in time, I do hope you savour each word that lingers on your palette. [align center] [[>>|DO YOU?]]

config.header.center: "Pages devoured: {pagesDevoured}" config.header.left: "Words consumed: {wordsConsumed}" config.header.right: "Words consumed: {wordsConsumed}" config.footer.left: "Words consumed: {wordsConsumed}" config.footer.center: "Pages devoured: {pagesDevoured}" config.footer.right: "Words consumed: {wordsConsumed}" wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 17 pagesDevoured: pagesDevoured + 1 -- [align center] Oh reader, you carnivorous thing.

wordsConsumed: wordsConsumed + 6 -- [align center] seb pines >[[itch.io->https://smolghost.itch.io/]] >[[website->https://themonstrous.me/]] >[[twitter->https://twitter.com/smolghost/]] {back link}

config.footer.center: "[[credits]]" -- [align center] **Oh, Reader** ~~an interactive horror flash fiction~~ {reveal link: 'Content Warning', text:'cw: death, description of dead body'} [[Read|Introduction]]