Writing Prompt: The Most Amazing Room Anyone Could Ever Give You

27 Jan

A library.

A library gated by arched double-doors encompassed by a carved wooden dragon, its wings spread wide over the entrance.

Windows three stories tall, topped with an elaborate vine design and stained glass panes.

Lush, creamy rugs covering dark hardwood floors, colored by the stained glass as light streams through the windows.

Giant, poufy armchairs with footrests. Warm woolen blankets slung over the backs for chilly nights. Lamps in iron sconces placed overhead.

A giant chandelier, tinkling crystal, hanging above a circular area in the center piled with multicolored beanbags.

A house elf to clean the chandelier (sorry Hermione).

A glasshouse attached to the end opposite the door, where hardwood fades to blue and white tiles arranged in the pattern of a Celtic knot. The ceiling is made of glass, with an array of pillowy window seats lining the walls. On a clear day, it overlooks a meadow of wildflowers spotted with trees. In the distance, mountains fade into the sky. On rainy days, you can listen to the pitter-patter as drops fall against the glass and race down the sides. Clouds swirl around the mountains, and everything looks so much greener against the gray sky.

Secret passageways. Everywhere. Known passageways through the floor, undiscovered passageways through the fireplace–which, by the way, is a large stone affair topped with a homemade family crest, the mantel peppered with travel memorabilia.  Passageways to rooms filled with special books, or chamber pots, or gowns from every era in which to dress up. Passageways to a room filled with crayons and playdough, or a quiet chamber with a notebook and pen that can be locked from the outside with a small hole in the center of the door just big enough for your best friend to sneak you Dove chocolates when you’ve proved to her you’ve made your word count goal.

A dumbwaiter big enough to sit in, for those times when you need to know exactly what it means to hide in a dumbwaiter. And perhaps more importantly, a number pad at the side to key in previously arranged codes for hot chocolate or tea or butterbeer or pumpkin juice or your very favorite food, which the house elves working in the kitchen will then prepare and send up to you, almost as quickly as food appears on the Hogwarts tables.

A grand staircase leading up to all three floors, the steps painted like my favorite books. They’re linked up to a sound system and play like the keys on a piano when someone steps on them. On either side of the staircase are giant, twisting slides (one used for water in summer, with a splash-shield up to protect the books).

And the shelves–the shelves of books as tall as the three-story-high windows, a rainbow of spines peering over the edge. Fantasy books, fairy tales, historical fiction, books on travel–big books, thin books, books that make a magnifying glass necessary, picture books, kids books, adult books. Paperback books, hardcover books, leather bound books. Books overflowing from the shelves, holding the promise of new worlds into which anyone could escape.

And the empty shelves, holding the promise of a visit to the bookstore tomorrow.


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