There once was a man named Noel Where. He had spent his whole life living vicariously through the deeds of others and not of his own. Now for those who do not know the word, vicariously, it means that he experienced life with ‘second-hand’ strife, with hand-me-down emotions that didn’t fit quite right, and with danger that needed to be hemmed to his size.
He read his books, played his Single-player games, watched scores upon scores of Television, film, hefted himself upon his local libraries stockpile of knowledge, and then when that wasn't enough, he became a member in the neighboring counties libraries. He created a great horde of knowledge, like he had become a Dragon of isolation in the house of his inheritance.
Noel lived alone, of course, can’t have roommates when your halls, your closets, your cupboards, your under sink, the refrigerator, your shower, your basement, your garage, your shed, your other shed, the old dog house, and just about every single free space that wasn't either the toilet or his own bed, all had books and their kind mounted upon them.
If it could, he would’ve fashioned bookshelves in his clothes, that way he could pull his favorite out of his pockets anytime he felt like it.
He didn’t really go to too many places in public, he had his home, his job as a clerk in the Book Depository, The numerous branches, no, forests of libraries at his pleasure, and the game shop where the only people he talked to knew him by name.
He was a very diligent customer, always paid his debts, never spoke out of turn, always polite and jovial. The shop owner imagined that with his personality, he couldn’t lose. He had a good chance of being governor if he actually tried.
But that was the thing. He didn’t try. His car was paid for, his house belonged to him, and the hordes of fiction and nonfiction alike inside it. His job paid well, and his family were all gone. He was alone and kept himself fed and cleaned. Him and his books.
"Nothing was more to life than the stories that make you.” he thought. It was what kept him going after all. If there was anything that could mask the empty feeling he had on the inside, that was it.
And he would’ve gone on, unheard, unknown, and uncared for until the quiet end of his life… Until the terrible day came, the day that shocked the whole of the world.
The day when all the books, and DVDs and CDs, and anything that held the imagination of human beings, disappeared. The libraries were empty.
Noel woke up to a world without books, even though his hoard had been passed over in the night. He felt a deep pang of regret forming in his chest. A world without books was an awful place to be.
The corporations cheered at their good fortune, now the people would have to subscribe for their enjoyment now. The deafening silence would only be filled by whatever they put before their customers.
It was a dark time.
He went to work that day, and was sent home. There were no books to package into boxes. He feared that his job was over. He would soon starve after that. He just sighed, and went home.
His neighbor, Miss Johnson, who used to religiously watch the Gilmore Girls on repeat everyday, now sat on her porch, watching the Nowhere man come home.
He saw her looking at him and he tried to run inside his house, but he wasn’t fast enough.
“Noel. I do hope you had a good day at work today? Your home early.”
“I..was sent home.”
“That’s good, you have the whole day to yourself then.” she said, crossing their shared lawn.
Noel had finally gotten his key in the door and forcefully pushing the door open and knocking over one of the many towers of DVDs that he had stacked on the floor. A copy of the Rockford files came fumbling past his legs and came to a stop before the older neighbor.
“Oh my, you have quite the mess in there.” she said picking up his DVD and handing it back to him.
He was embarrassed beyond measure, someone was looking directly into his private world. He’d imagine that she was so horrendously disgusted by the way he-.
“Do you happen to have the Gilmore Girls by chance, Noel?” she asked.
The request took him off his train of thought and placed him in a foreign land. Someone was asking about HIS library.
“Yes…Actually.” he said,what happened next was something that even he didn’t foresee coming. That hole that rested in his chest, the one that was plugged so cleanly in his chest by the mantra he said every morning. Began to ache and unseal. “Would you like to come inside and….watch it with me?” he asked, each word sounding like their letters were dipping their toes in a frigid pool.
“That would be lovely. I’ll bring some tea.” Miss Johnson said. Eagerly hurrying back over to her house for her flower porcelain set and her green leaf packets. She didn’t look at him like he was a hoarder as he expected her to. She sat on his sofa with great expectation as she really wanted to see her show again.
“You know, Season 4 is the best one. It’s really when everyone on set finally knew what they were doing!” she said, pouring him and herself a cup as the show started.
“I honestly hadn’t watched it until now..I just thought it was important to have.” he smiled, the older woman’s affection for the 90s show was infectious.
They spent the rest of that day laughing at the corny jokes that were abundant at that time.
The next day, he woke to the sound of his doorbell ringing. No one ever rang his doorbell. Ever. He was on edge when he answered it and his shoulders drooped.
“Oh no.”
Miss Johnson had told her friends about her Librarian neighbor and his vast library that he had. None of her friends at the Ladies meetup knew anything about streaming and they were eager to offer him casseroles and pitchers of tea for rental fees for his copies of That 70s show, and Magnum PI.
The blushing Granny who wanted to see Tom Selleck again, was hardly a face he could say no to.
He pulled out a fresh notebook he was saving for his next project and took down the information of each of them and how long they had before they had to return it. He then let them leave with what they were after. He loaned out Tom Selleck and tacky 70s sitcom for food. But more than that. People appreciated it. That…That was good. That was a really good feeling.
Then a young lady stepped up to his door, she was Miss Johnson’s Granddaughter. Maggie. She was heartbroken that all the libraries went out of business and had been dreaming of a book that she had read years before. It was a love story between a War-weary Soldier and a Milk maiden in the hills of post-Great War Hungary.
Noel knew precisely where his copy was. He invited her inside and then reached underneath his kitchen sink and pulled out the pristine copy of “Hungary for love.”
Maggie was overjoyed. “I..didn’t bring anything with me.”
“Keep it. I..never read it anyway. Plus, it’s important to you. You should take good care of it.” The Nowhere man smiled.
Maggie brought her arms around his neck and hugged him. “Thank you, Noel.”
That feeling of her hugging him was worth more than everything that sagged off his walls.
Maggie would come back, with her own notebook a few days later.
“Hiding books behind sinks may be how you store literature, but you need a catalog if someone needs to find something.” she said, as she and Noel spent the next two weeks recording down every piece of physical media on his property.
He grew close with her. The best two weeks of his life were spent telling stories and writing down titles together everyday.
Maggie became the first assistant librarian of The Nowhere Library. The last Library in the world. And Noel Where, the founder of such a place, had realized that he had everything backwards.
It wasn’t that Nothing was more to life than the stories that make you; but rather Nothing was more to life than the stories you make.