jocolibrary:

elementia is hosting The Merry Sisters of Fate!  At the Central Resource Library!  

The Merry Fates are brennayovanoff, tessagratton and maggie-stiefvater—women who write both the creepy and the fantastical, and who also penned an anthology together, The Curiosities.

The event is on Monday, November 10th, at 7 p.m.  And you’ll probably want to register earlyat our website: www.jocolibrary.org

Can’t wait!

(Reblogged from jocolibrary)

abandonedmarionette:

officialmegane:

Unnecessary love triangles

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did you mean the entire teen fiction section

OH LOOK!

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TEEN FICTION!

image

WITHOUT

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ANY OR UNNECESSARY 

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LOVE TRIANGLES

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IN THEM.

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I DIDN’T KNOW THERE WERE SO MANY!

Stop hating on and generalizing teen fiction. They are great sources of reading material if you just take your time and choose wisely.

Excellent!

(Source: ananbeth)

(Reblogged from bethanyhagen)
I’ve never understood women pitted against other women when we all have a common cause. Free and equal. Free and equal. That’s all I want to see.
(Reblogged from bookriot)

weneeddiversebooks:

Welcome aboard to our newest WNDB Advisory Board member: Tim Federle.

We are beyond thrilled to have you, Tim!!

These books are so fun and funny!  Tim Federle is the perfect cd audio performer of his own books.

(Reblogged from yaflash)
hanginggardenstories:

THEY SAY, by Natalie C. Parker
They say every neighborhood has a story like this one. They say that’s what makes them true.
 2:30AM
One by one, the girls crept through their windows and met in the middle of the empty street. They lived in a meandering Virginia neighborhood built around a small, spidery finger of the Elizabeth River. The houses were a mixture of old and older, with broad lawns and overbearing pines. At this time of night, every house on the block was pinned in place by front door lights.
The girls stood beneath the glow of an orange streetlight, bundled against the autumn chill and in the tallest boots any of them could find. Leslie surveyed her friends with slight amusement. Lindsey was already exuding dissatisfaction with their third member, Lindsay, who wore the brown cousin to Lindsey’s own black leather jacket. If it had been up to her, this would have been a party of two: Lins and Les, just like always. But Leslie had insisted the legend was clear on this point, it required three, so Lindsay was in.
“Ready?” Leslie asked and even though the others were looking directly at her as she spoke, the sound of her voice in the dead of night was alarming.
Lindsey answered with only a nod, but crossed her arms tightly over her chest.
Lindsay was eager. “Ready,” she confirmed and when the sound of her voice proved as startling as Leslie’s had, she repeated it in a whisper, “I mean, ready.”
2:50AM
The old Montgomery house stood at the crown of a court behind a fence that was thickened by mulberry bushes. Easily the oldest house in the neighborhood, it was stately with tall, dark windows, and once white columns that were now grayed with history. If it was haunting in the middle of the day, then it was completely dreadful at night. The number of stories about the house grew every year. Most of them weren’t true. Most of them were told about any old house with reclusive tenants and creaking gates. But there was one story about the Montgomery house Leslie was certain held truth.
“Ten minutes,” Leslie reminded them as she led the girls to the far edge of the fence where they would be able to sneak around the back.
It hadn’t been windy on their trek through the neighborhood. In fact, Lindsey had begun to wish she’d left her black leather jacket safely at home. But once they reached the end of the fence, where reedy cattails marked the edge of the Elizabeth River, the wind was whispering and cold.
“They say that there’s a spot in the foyer of this house where the original owner killed his wife and the bloodstain can’t be washed out.” Lindsay’s voice was trying too hard. “Whenever they put a new rug down, the blood seeps through it. Even changing the floorboards won’t stop it. The blood always returns.”
When neither of her companions responded, Lindsay continued. “They also say that there’s an old painting of a child inside that will look directly at you if you’re about to die.”
This time, Lindsey answered. “And how does anybody know that, A. Y.?” Lindsey’s intention was never to give Lindsay a nickname, but to point out the differences between them. The fact that the name made Lindsay feel more included than excluded wasn’t enough to keep Lindsey from using it.
“Because,” A. Y. replied. “They say you can see the rug and the painting when the front door opens wide enough.” After another moment of quiet, A. Y. spoke up again, “They say the girls were forced to jump. That their father fell asleep with candles burning and started a fire that trapped them. There was only one way out.”
“Hush,” Leslie whispered over her shoulder. If they were late, they’d have to wait another year to see if the story was true. “Hurry.”
2:56AM
By necessity, Leslie led them through the cattails, down a long-forgotten path to and even longer-forgotten dock. Like the Montgomery house, it was once a grand thing, standing strong and bold over the rushing river below, but now it was barely more than a precarious stretch of half-rotten boards.
The wind whipped through Lindsey’s hair and snaked an icy hand down the back of her jacket. She shivered and wrapped her arms tightly around herself. “We don’t really have to go out on that thing, do we?” She asked.
It was A. Y. who answered, anxious to be helpful but mostly repeating what they already knew. “They say you can only see them if you stand at the very end of the dock at precisely 3AM.”
“And it has to be three,” Leslie said, her voice resolute. “It won’t work without all of us. C’mon, I’ll go first.”
2:59AM
The boards were sturdier than they appeared in dim light, but not by much. One by one, the girls reached the end of the dock with hearts hammering and cheeks warmed by adrenaline. Beneath them, the river was rocky and cold, its spray keeping the boards slick and soft.  Whenever one of the girls shifted, the whole structure seemed to bend.
From where they stood, they could see the back of the Montgomery house. Like the front, the back was filled with tall windows that looked like black eyes, one of which would soon reveal the forms of the three girls who once lived within.
If the story was true.
“I didn’t realize we’d be up so high,” Lindsay said, for the first time uncertain about the wisdom of this plan. She was too easily swept up by the desires of others.
“Hush,” Leslie said again, eyes trained on her watch. “Thirty seconds. Then we jump together and the three girls will appear in the window just before they leap.”
Lindsay shifted uncomfortably. It was one thing to talk about finding the old dock in the middle of the night and jumping to summon the ghosts, it was another thing altogether to be standing on the slippery boards with the October water racing beneath. But nothing would make Lindsay leave the company of Lins and Les. They might never invite her out again if they thought she was a coward.
Then Leslie started to count. “Ten, nine, eight…”
Again, Lindsay shifted slightly closer to Lindsey. And because it made herself feel better to focus on someone else’s fear, Lindsey reached over and squeezed her hand.
Leslie’s voice became increasingly urgent with each number. “…three, two, one. Now!”
Together the three of them jumped and when their feet again hit the dock, they screamed.
2:30AM
“They say, if three of us stand in the window at precisely 3AM, we’ll see them,” Mary spoke with authority, a candle burning between her hands. “But it must be tonight, the thirteenth night of October. It won’t work any other night of the year.”
“I still don’t think we should,” Margaret said, still in bed with knees drawn up to her chin. “Mattie is too young. We’ll frighten her to death.”
“I’m not scared!” Mattie protested. “Don’t say what I am, Margie!” It was the truth, she wasn’t scared, but very little scared Mattie anymore.
“There’s nothing to be scared of,” Mary explained evenly. She wasn’t fooled by Margaret’s deflections, but she was sympathetic to them. “We’ll be way up here. Far away from them and very safe. All we have to do is watch.”
“Oh, fine,” Margaret said. “But you must promise to drop this when nothing happens.”
Mary attempted to keep her smile from appearing too triumphant. “I promise.”
2:50AM
The little standing clock filled the room with an incessant tick- tick-tick. Little Mattie had fallen back to sleep while Mary and Margaret kept watch by the windows. Below them, the Montgomery gardens were doused in shadows, which made them more lovely than when the sun showed how unkempt they were. Nothing had grown quite the same way since mother died.
Mary and Margaret spoke in low voices to avoid waking Mattie. They didn’t need to worry about their father. Not only was he one story below stretched out in bed still in his clothes, but by this time of night his sleep was thick with drink. They couldn’t wake him even if they screamed.  
The girls opened the windows and shivered in the October wind. Around them, the house creaked and moaned.
“They say that the girls didn’t realize the dock was so weak,” Mary said, discerning eyes turned to the river. “They also say they couldn’t have known how sharp the rocks beneath were.”
“Why were they so foolish to go out alone? And so late at night?” Margaret asked, critical of these girls who might never have existed.
Mary thought she understood, but she knew Margaret wouldn’t appreciate the allure of adventure, so instead she shrugged. “Perhaps we’ll find out.”
“We should wake her,” Margaret said, suddenly anxious to know if her sister was right about these spirits.
“In another minute,” said Mary.
2:56AM
Mattie rubbed her eyes and followed her sisters to the window. At the far end of the property, where the cattails were taller than she would be for years to come, she spotted the dock standing over the Elizabeth River.
“I’m tired,” she complained.
“This won’t take long. Stand just there,” Mary instructed. “And you right next to her, Margaret.”
“And they’ll just appear?” Margaret asked, though she knew the story inside and out.
“Yes, but only if all three of us watch together, so stay awake, Mattie!”
“I’m awake,” Mattie murmured, curling her freezing toes around the ledge and leaning against the frame, heedless of the three story drop below.
“For heaven’s sake.” In annoyance, Margaret gripped her little sister’s hand.
Standing as they with faces full of fresh night air, the girls didn’t detect the hint of smoke curling through the house.
Standing as they were with their eyes trained on the dock, the girls didn’t see the first grey coils slip beneath their door.
Instead, they waited on the edge of fear and delight as the clock tick-tick-ticked in the background.
2:59AM
The wind swept around their bare ankles, teasing and tugging. Mattie laughed, Margie gritted her teeth, and Mary began to count. It was only when she was halfway through that she caught a sting of smoke in the air.
Margaret noticed it too and their eyes met just before the first flames licked up the inside of their bedroom door.
It took only seconds, then. The wind whipped through the room, carrying flames from site to site, from the doorway to the dresser, to Mattie’s bed, until the room was alight and the girls were thoroughly trapped.
Mary and Margaret shook as they reached for each other, but Mattie was strangely calm. “Hold my hands,” she said.
Then, hand in hand the sisters leapt.
And they screamed.

Chilling!

hanginggardenstories:

THEY SAY, by Natalie C. Parker

They say every neighborhood has a story like this one. They say that’s what makes them true.

 2:30AM

One by one, the girls crept through their windows and met in the middle of the empty street. They lived in a meandering Virginia neighborhood built around a small, spidery finger of the Elizabeth River. The houses were a mixture of old and older, with broad lawns and overbearing pines. At this time of night, every house on the block was pinned in place by front door lights.

The girls stood beneath the glow of an orange streetlight, bundled against the autumn chill and in the tallest boots any of them could find. Leslie surveyed her friends with slight amusement. Lindsey was already exuding dissatisfaction with their third member, Lindsay, who wore the brown cousin to Lindsey’s own black leather jacket. If it had been up to her, this would have been a party of two: Lins and Les, just like always. But Leslie had insisted the legend was clear on this point, it required three, so Lindsay was in.

“Ready?” Leslie asked and even though the others were looking directly at her as she spoke, the sound of her voice in the dead of night was alarming.

Lindsey answered with only a nod, but crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

Lindsay was eager. “Ready,” she confirmed and when the sound of her voice proved as startling as Leslie’s had, she repeated it in a whisper, “I mean, ready.”

2:50AM

The old Montgomery house stood at the crown of a court behind a fence that was thickened by mulberry bushes. Easily the oldest house in the neighborhood, it was stately with tall, dark windows, and once white columns that were now grayed with history. If it was haunting in the middle of the day, then it was completely dreadful at night. The number of stories about the house grew every year. Most of them weren’t true. Most of them were told about any old house with reclusive tenants and creaking gates. But there was one story about the Montgomery house Leslie was certain held truth.

“Ten minutes,” Leslie reminded them as she led the girls to the far edge of the fence where they would be able to sneak around the back.

It hadn’t been windy on their trek through the neighborhood. In fact, Lindsey had begun to wish she’d left her black leather jacket safely at home. But once they reached the end of the fence, where reedy cattails marked the edge of the Elizabeth River, the wind was whispering and cold.

“They say that there’s a spot in the foyer of this house where the original owner killed his wife and the bloodstain can’t be washed out.” Lindsay’s voice was trying too hard. “Whenever they put a new rug down, the blood seeps through it. Even changing the floorboards won’t stop it. The blood always returns.”

When neither of her companions responded, Lindsay continued. “They also say that there’s an old painting of a child inside that will look directly at you if you’re about to die.”

This time, Lindsey answered. “And how does anybody know that, A. Y.?” Lindsey’s intention was never to give Lindsay a nickname, but to point out the differences between them. The fact that the name made Lindsay feel more included than excluded wasn’t enough to keep Lindsey from using it.

“Because,” A. Y. replied. “They say you can see the rug and the painting when the front door opens wide enough.” After another moment of quiet, A. Y. spoke up again, “They say the girls were forced to jump. That their father fell asleep with candles burning and started a fire that trapped them. There was only one way out.”

“Hush,” Leslie whispered over her shoulder. If they were late, they’d have to wait another year to see if the story was true. “Hurry.”

2:56AM

By necessity, Leslie led them through the cattails, down a long-forgotten path to and even longer-forgotten dock. Like the Montgomery house, it was once a grand thing, standing strong and bold over the rushing river below, but now it was barely more than a precarious stretch of half-rotten boards.

The wind whipped through Lindsey’s hair and snaked an icy hand down the back of her jacket. She shivered and wrapped her arms tightly around herself. “We don’t really have to go out on that thing, do we?” She asked.

It was A. Y. who answered, anxious to be helpful but mostly repeating what they already knew. “They say you can only see them if you stand at the very end of the dock at precisely 3AM.”

“And it has to be three,” Leslie said, her voice resolute. “It won’t work without all of us. C’mon, I’ll go first.”

2:59AM

The boards were sturdier than they appeared in dim light, but not by much. One by one, the girls reached the end of the dock with hearts hammering and cheeks warmed by adrenaline. Beneath them, the river was rocky and cold, its spray keeping the boards slick and soft.  Whenever one of the girls shifted, the whole structure seemed to bend.

From where they stood, they could see the back of the Montgomery house. Like the front, the back was filled with tall windows that looked like black eyes, one of which would soon reveal the forms of the three girls who once lived within.

If the story was true.

“I didn’t realize we’d be up so high,” Lindsay said, for the first time uncertain about the wisdom of this plan. She was too easily swept up by the desires of others.

“Hush,” Leslie said again, eyes trained on her watch. “Thirty seconds. Then we jump together and the three girls will appear in the window just before they leap.”

Lindsay shifted uncomfortably. It was one thing to talk about finding the old dock in the middle of the night and jumping to summon the ghosts, it was another thing altogether to be standing on the slippery boards with the October water racing beneath. But nothing would make Lindsay leave the company of Lins and Les. They might never invite her out again if they thought she was a coward.

Then Leslie started to count. “Ten, nine, eight…”

Again, Lindsay shifted slightly closer to Lindsey. And because it made herself feel better to focus on someone else’s fear, Lindsey reached over and squeezed her hand.

Leslie’s voice became increasingly urgent with each number. “…three, two, one. Now!”

Together the three of them jumped and when their feet again hit the dock, they screamed.

2:30AM

“They say, if three of us stand in the window at precisely 3AM, we’ll see them,” Mary spoke with authority, a candle burning between her hands. “But it must be tonight, the thirteenth night of October. It won’t work any other night of the year.”

“I still don’t think we should,” Margaret said, still in bed with knees drawn up to her chin. “Mattie is too young. We’ll frighten her to death.”

“I’m not scared!” Mattie protested. “Don’t say what I am, Margie!” It was the truth, she wasn’t scared, but very little scared Mattie anymore.

“There’s nothing to be scared of,” Mary explained evenly. She wasn’t fooled by Margaret’s deflections, but she was sympathetic to them. “We’ll be way up here. Far away from them and very safe. All we have to do is watch.”

“Oh, fine,” Margaret said. “But you must promise to drop this when nothing happens.”

Mary attempted to keep her smile from appearing too triumphant. “I promise.”

2:50AM

The little standing clock filled the room with an incessant tick- tick-tick. Little Mattie had fallen back to sleep while Mary and Margaret kept watch by the windows. Below them, the Montgomery gardens were doused in shadows, which made them more lovely than when the sun showed how unkempt they were. Nothing had grown quite the same way since mother died.

Mary and Margaret spoke in low voices to avoid waking Mattie. They didn’t need to worry about their father. Not only was he one story below stretched out in bed still in his clothes, but by this time of night his sleep was thick with drink. They couldn’t wake him even if they screamed.  

The girls opened the windows and shivered in the October wind. Around them, the house creaked and moaned.

“They say that the girls didn’t realize the dock was so weak,” Mary said, discerning eyes turned to the river. “They also say they couldn’t have known how sharp the rocks beneath were.”

“Why were they so foolish to go out alone? And so late at night?” Margaret asked, critical of these girls who might never have existed.

Mary thought she understood, but she knew Margaret wouldn’t appreciate the allure of adventure, so instead she shrugged. “Perhaps we’ll find out.”

“We should wake her,” Margaret said, suddenly anxious to know if her sister was right about these spirits.

“In another minute,” said Mary.

2:56AM

Mattie rubbed her eyes and followed her sisters to the window. At the far end of the property, where the cattails were taller than she would be for years to come, she spotted the dock standing over the Elizabeth River.

“I’m tired,” she complained.

“This won’t take long. Stand just there,” Mary instructed. “And you right next to her, Margaret.”

“And they’ll just appear?” Margaret asked, though she knew the story inside and out.

“Yes, but only if all three of us watch together, so stay awake, Mattie!”

“I’m awake,” Mattie murmured, curling her freezing toes around the ledge and leaning against the frame, heedless of the three story drop below.

“For heaven’s sake.” In annoyance, Margaret gripped her little sister’s hand.

Standing as they with faces full of fresh night air, the girls didn’t detect the hint of smoke curling through the house.

Standing as they were with their eyes trained on the dock, the girls didn’t see the first grey coils slip beneath their door.

Instead, they waited on the edge of fear and delight as the clock tick-tick-ticked in the background.

2:59AM

The wind swept around their bare ankles, teasing and tugging. Mattie laughed, Margie gritted her teeth, and Mary began to count. It was only when she was halfway through that she caught a sting of smoke in the air.

Margaret noticed it too and their eyes met just before the first flames licked up the inside of their bedroom door.

It took only seconds, then. The wind whipped through the room, carrying flames from site to site, from the doorway to the dresser, to Mattie’s bed, until the room was alight and the girls were thoroughly trapped.

Mary and Margaret shook as they reached for each other, but Mattie was strangely calm. “Hold my hands,” she said.

Then, hand in hand the sisters leapt.

And they screamed.

Chilling!

(Reblogged from hanginggardenstories)

georgetakei:

Have your Expecto Patron spell handy.

HEHE!

(Reblogged from georgetakei)
(Reblogged from jocolibrary)

lucyknisley:

I’ve spent the last TEN YEARS relying on my good pal, David, to do all the mysterious websitey things I’ve needed, but now he has an ACTUAL baby and I figured I should learn to walk relatively on my own. Especially since part of my site was hacked a week ago. I used the opportunity to throw myself into Squarespace and made a whole new site last week, almost entirely by my selfums. I’m pretty proud! 

LucyKnisley.com

Just, uh, don’t look at it on your mobile platform yet. Ahem. Still working on that part.

This is excellent, thanks!

(Reblogged from lucyknisley)

catagator:

Another day, another webinar featuring “Books for Boys.” 

Gendered reading’s gotta stop.

(Reblogged from yahighway)
(Reblogged from tessagratton)