Alexandria's Library

The magazines are my favorite, but they are also the most dangerous. They show in technicolor full page detail the abundance that used to be common.

The library I found is my own secret that has made me valuable to my ward but also the odd one out. It didn’t always used to be like this. The books have taught me how to weave new cloth when the old garments fell apart. How to filter water with nothing but dirt, sand and charcoal. They taught me about rotating the crops and to be careful where we place the community outhouse. It was hard at first to get the elders to listen to me. The elder committee didn’t want to believe a girl had anything relevant to add. But rather than argue, I just took care of myself. I didn’t get sick as often; when I did I got better faster. My crops came in and I was able to meet the modesty standards when others couldn’t. I heard the whispers and the unexpected silence when I walked into a room. I quickly figured out I had to share my knowledge with the others in the community before “deviant” or “unholy” was said as a testimony. But teaching others was a whole other challenge. How do I teach others, when I’m not supposed to know more than the elders? Then it dawned on me. Don’t teach, rather show the little ones and my peers. That way the elders could mimic us and say it was their idea all along. So far it’s worked.

I’m still the weird one but I haven’t been forced out to the black spinning fan zones. The ones that get excommunicated quickly become nothing more than walking ghouls with pale skin, wisps of hair, and sunken red eyes.

My locket keeps me safe. We all wear them. We keep a picture of our orange colored prophet over our hearts to remind us of our place in the world. But my locket is special; it was a gift from my aunt before she died in the cleanse. It’s a three fold locket and my library key is kept safe in the hidden compartment underneath.

Once a month, on fasting day, when everyone is locked down at home, I sneak away to read and learn. But I’m still afraid. The books said if I keep my weight super low I can avoid my “monthly blessing” but I’m the oldest of my peers who hasn’t started yet. I don’t want to get married and have baby, after baby, after baby. The teachings say once I’m married my body is no longer mine, but rather his. I’m to submit in all ways. The elders have already said I’m to be joined next month to Brother Dale. He’s so old, he remembers the old times. He stands and testifies every Saturday about how now is better than the old times. He says that even though there may not be enough food or water now there is the fear of God in every heart and a man at the head of every table.

Today is the last day I can come to my library. I find a new book, titled “Apothecary for Beginners”. The book is fascinating with details on what plants make a tea that stops the sick from burning up. There is even a section on how to make essential oils and safety instructions to identify and avoid plants like BellaDonna.

The day is done and I have to head home. But I have an idea and I remember the temple rules. Widows don’t remarry.