You are currently lost in the Wanderer's Library. This is not the result of a misunderstanding, faulty map, dizziness, deception, nor any other fault common in the Library. Your fault was truly inexcusable: Twitter. Yes, on a trek through the most diverse and exhaustive pool of knowledge in the cosmos, you decided it better to retreat to the annals of Twitter. You did not consider what you could be learning. Nor who you would meet. Nor how you are getting phone service. You just scrolled until your feed devolved into niche and unappealing accounts, known for posting nary but self-plugs. You continue mindlessly meandering on until you unknowingly enter a clearing in the shelves. You stop abruptly as you hit a red metal pole head-on.
Back, forth, back, forth. You're still fighting the forces.
Back, forth, back, forth. Your inertia begins to yield.
Back. Forth. Back. Forth… back… you're free now.
You're careening through the air, able to see above the shelves at your peaks. Your mind races as you look in every direction, looking for anything but shelves. Hang on. It's meant to look… different. Where is every- -
On your forward swing, you feel the rubber come out from beneath you. You're left in a moment of freefall through the air. This is when you realised you're no longer in the Library, but a confused simulacrum of it. In your obsessive saunter, you failed to notice that the peculiar patrons, the unpredictable locales and the curious literature had all become oh my god please you're flying towards that shelf cor
You find yourself dazed on a hard wooden floor. Cork. Disgusting. Coming to your senses, you sit up. You're in a hexagonal room that's only slightly undersized. The walls are meant to house books, but only host a couple. That's it. No door, no window, nothing. You can hear very faint classical piano, but surely that's not important. How many others are there? The hexagon is built to tessellate, after all.
With nothing left to do, you walk over to the books.
| Rating | Title | Created | Comments | Last Comment |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 17 | A Moth's Final Monologue | 27 Sep 2022 09:47 | 4 | StrangerSwing |
| 8 | Perambulation Across The Promenade | 10 Oct 2022 03:05 | 6 | StrangerSwing |
| 9 | The Stranger's Swing | 27 Oct 2022 03:45 | 4 | EliotQ |
| 5 | Kenophobia On George Street | 30 Oct 2022 20:10 | 2 | StrangerSwing |
| 11 | As Wrote in the Loos | 07 Nov 2022 10:29 | 13 | StrangerSwing |
| 9 | Shite Fishing | 13 Nov 2022 04:22 | 2 | Stygian Blue |
| 7 | Jäara Forser, Unnamed | 15 Nov 2022 07:04 | 3 | Maxyfran73 |
| 9 | Your important meeting is important. | 16 Nov 2022 01:02 | 3 | NotAnOligarch |
| 8 | a trip to the beach without you. | 12 Dec 2022 00:01 | 3 | meltedbee |
| 18 | Flamebearer's Elegy | 30 Dec 2022 06:21 | 5 | StrangerSwing |
| 13 | Incongruent Rails | 20 Feb 2023 01:10 | 2 | Dr Bierre |
| 7 | The Chariot | 21 Oct 2023 22:05 | 5 | NotAnOligarch |
| 5 | Lethe Drown | 28 Oct 2023 04:25 | 2 | meltedbee |
You stop for a moment and feel around your pocket. Your phone is still there. You excitedly pull it out and turn it on, but instead of your lock screen, you see a Twitter page. You press your home button, only to find it is a sticker. No other page on the website is accessible. Scrolling down, you realise they self-plug exclusively. This is why we do not trust the Stranger's Swing.