As Catherine sauntered down the long, echoing halls of her local library she stared at the walls. They were a dirty grey. It was depressing. Who ever had chosen the colour had either had bad taste or was a grey, depressing person. As she glanced down at the brown tiled floor she guessed the second. Entering through the heavy, swinging doors Catherine came to the children's section of the library, another room containing grey walls and squeaky, brown floors. Catherine went directly to the section of books under the heading "countries". She knew this room like the back of her hand, it wasn't too hard as it was so small. She was looking for books on "Russia" for a school project.
After a bit of hunting she selected a thick volume and two thin books with large type on the subject. They would have to do. Settling herself in a hard creaky chair she opened the thick volume. The print was minute and the context barely understandable. Straining her eyes she read:
"Russia, the largest country in the world, also known as the USSR . . . "
The heat in the room was oppressive and Catherine was starting to feel drowsy. Nodding her head she fell into a deep slumber . . .
She saw bright yellow walls and heard the jovial, tinkling laughter of children. She was in a brightly sunlit room full of busily chattering children. Two girls were sitting at a table dabbing paint on to paper with their brushes. A lady was sitting with a child curled cosily in her lap reading out loud to her as the child followed the words, giggling at the story, a group of children sat at a table chattering over a spread of sheets and books. Books. Catherine suddenly realised she was in a library, and the walls were lined with books. But where was the bossy librarian with her finger ready to hush any falling pin that dropped, her stamper ready to stamp overdue books? Where were the diligent students who needed tranquillity and peace? It wouldn't be possible to study with the chorus of words coming from the reading group in the corner. Then through a glass panel in a door she caught a glimpse of people working at desks. Deciding to investigate further she found herself in a silent room where only pens scribbling hastily could be heard. It was full of "diligent" students. Decorating the walls were colourful charts and vibrant maps of the world. There were several computers along one wall with people tapping fervently at their keys. The room, it appeared, was a study room. Returning to the main room she observed several children starting on a mural of Alice in Wonderland and watched as a group of children were set the task of writing a story titled A Far Away Land. Making her way out another door she entered into a room, leaving the sound of children's merriment to be heard only in the distance. It was a room packed with shelf upon shelf of books, crammed into every nook and cranny available. There were people of every age group there, each searching for a book to suit their taste, even young teenagers and young adults, who were seldom seen in her library . . .
This image disintegrated and Catherine woke, hazy with sleep to find herself confronted by Mrs Haze, the crotchety librarian. "Would you like a hot water bottle, or is it just forty winks?" she remarked caustically. Hastily she gathered her books and after profusely apologising she left for the long walk home, followed by an icy glare.
Outside in the bitter air she recalled her dream. It had been so happy there, a library where you could study real, understandable books and have fun at the same time. It was glorious. That's what a library would be like if she were in charge. She could entice people in with popular books, in plentiful supply; she would encourage people to read from a young age by having creative writing and storytelling sessions. She would start a big collection of children's tapes; they were a wonder for keeping her sisters quiet on tedious car journeys. She would increase the philosophy section too. She had recently read the popular book Sophie's World on philosophy and it had aroused a great curiosity in her. Pursuing her case further to her local library she had been devastated to find a mere handful of thick, dusty volumes in the adults section which left her more confused than ever on the ideas of the world. Another idea popped into her head. She would have a questionnaire sheet at the start of every book; supplying the ages of the previous readers, their comments and ratings on the book. It would make the irritating job of choosing her five books much easier.
`Education is the passport to emancipation," as her mother was forever saying. She would encourage people to educate themselves and give them the means to do so. When Carnegie founded the first libraries he gave people the means to educate themselves, but nowadays a little provoking and encouragement was required before people saw what "fun learning can be". She would encourage them from the very beginning, getting children to use their imaginations, like in her dream. The problem was that people tended to wander off in their teenage years, leaving books behind. This, she thought, is where the biggest selection of books should be, not the smallest. Oh, if only, she thought, as she felt a fiery exciting feeling down in her stomach. In her library she would let every child have their own say in the running of it, after all, it was their library too.
With her head in the clouds Catherine skipped light-heartedly the rest of the way home. Oh if only, she thought, if only she could be in charge of the library.
Winner of First Prize in the under-14 category
