Without my library I could see:

The bus grinding to a halt, and a young woman stepping smartly off and moving towards the glass doors of the library. A bitter wind tugs at her hair as she crosses the busy street. Reaching the swing doors, she grasps the handle firmly and pulls hard. The door stays put, not budging in the slightest. She pulls again, harder this time, but again to no avail. Peering through the glass, she can see oaken shelves empty, greying computers dormant in the corner. She turns bitterly, heads back to the bus stop and begins her laborious wait for the next bus.

With the library closed down, the ordinary people wouldn't have easy access to books. When they were finished reading the books, they would have to swap with their neighbours or buy more. Also, many people would have to travel far to get to the bookshops to buy a book. This would drastically reduce the amount of books to read.

Rain thunders down from the heavens, drenching the road and filling it with puddles. An old woman, clad in a tattered shawl - her only armour against the raindrops - hobbles slowly down the footpath and moves toward the dripping doors of the public library. Her wizened features crave the central heating in the library, and her mind craves the pages of the Examiner or her favourite magazines. She finds the doors locked, and a stark sign glares at her from the wall: CLOSED! Her face streaked with sadness, she shivers and turns back to the cold, wet, unwelcoming street.

What about the elderly, the pensioners who come to the library for a gossip or a quiet read of the newspaper? They enjoy the heating and the comfortable chairs. No more for them the gramophone recitals and other events specially organised for them

Whoops of joy echo across the street. A stern teacher herds his class across the busy road towards the library. Getting them to form a single file, he turns to the doors. Then he sees the sign. With an ashen face, he turns to his pupils and tells them to return to the school. No more whoops of joy. The children are shocked into silence.

Without the library, children would not be encouraged to read. Their parents would have to buy books, and there wouldn't be as many books to choose from as there would be in the library. Also, what about the children who need to study in the library? And the projects that other children do, they need access to encyclopaedias.

The sun shines down on the double doors of the library. A youth approaches with a golden dog. The sunlight shines broadly upon the youth, allowing him to feel its warmth on his skin. Cars drive slowly past but the young man doesn't see them. The dog waits and leads his master across the road safely. As they reach the doors, the dog whines. "What is it, boy, what's wrong?" The blind man rests his hand on the door and pushes. The door does not move. With sadness shrouding his heart, he turns and the dog leads him back across the busy street.

What about the disabled folk of the world? They would no longer be able to access Braille books, they would no longer be able to e-mail their friends through the special equipment, or have a friendly chat with the librarian.

The young woman seats herself in front of the computer. She presses a button on the side and the screen flickers to life. She boots up the Internet, and after much vigorous typing, she finds what she is looking for. The library website opens and to the woman's dismay, three bold words fill the page; LIBRARY CLOSED DOWN. She disconnects from the Internet and sadly leaves the room.

And what about the library's Internet visitors? They would no longer be able to log on and look up all the information on the library. No longer would they be able to order books on the Net.

The young man wheeled his chair up the bumpy ramp to the library. His wheels slosh through the puddles. In his palm is a leather-bound book. Wheeling himself up to the door, he stops, waiting for someone to open the door. No one comes. He raps hard on the door and waits again. But no one comes to his aid. Being so low to the ground, he cannot see the stark sign. Turning away, he decides to try again tomorrow. But he knows in his heart that the answer will be the same.

If the library were to close, what about the people confined to wheelchairs? What reward would they have, after wheeling through a busy town, braving the bumpy ramp, asking only for a quiet read of a book? Instead, they find the cold, locked doors of the library.

Rain thunders down on to the busy street. Cars honk their horns and their drivers swear and curse at other drivers. They drive past the footpath, sending muddy water flooding up. A man sits by the street, soaked to the skin, clasping in his hand a half-empty whiskey bottle. This was once the librarian. His hair is matted with rain. He is unemployed and is very poor. Passers-by toss coins into the battered hat set out before him.

No one thinks about the job loss. What about the librarian left without his job? How can he feed himself, without his salary? Now he is reduced to begging on the side of the street, drinking cheap wine and sleeping rough. I myself would be sad if the library were to close, as I like nothing better than curling up on the couch with a Coke and a good book. Television is quite interesting but I would rather a good fantasy novel. Hopefully the above situation will not come about and that the library will continue to provide people of all ages with books and information.

Mark Treacy (12)