You could feel the quiet in the air like a wind chime on the breeze. The library was empty, or was it? It was not. The books, cut down living trees ground up and mixed with chemicals until they were formed into paper and ink crushed into them and bound into rectangular blocks of loose leaf pages, sat on the shelves. And in came the mold.
Silent and creeping, taking its time, the mold struck the books of the Temple Terrace library and left no prisoners except the ones it let go. More than 3,000 books were sacrificed to the Great Creeping One, the White Death Blanket.
Yes it seemed the Fungal Frightener partnered with a warm and humid summer to destroy the climate control, allowing for rapid expansion with no negotiation. The books never saw it coming and could not cry for help.
Now, it will take $40,000 and a team of people with cloths or whatever you use to do that to fix the issue, to put the killer back in the murder box.
But we must mourn the books, the blocks of treated wood that gave so much pleasure, so much educashun and learnin. We luv u, boox.