Who I Am
I am a low-ranking worker at the Grand Library of Whisperheaven. I shelve books. I dust manuscripts. I am, by all official accounts, nobody worth watching.
Some time ago, while clearing out a deep storage room in the east wing, I found a cable running behind an old shelf. I followed it. I probably should not have. What I found at the end of that cable I now call the internet, and I have not stopped thinking about it since.
What This Is
The Grand Library holds texts that most people will never read. Histories. Accounts. Stories written by people whose names have been officially erased. Works that sit in sealed rooms, or in shelves so deep in the archive that no one visits them in years.
I did not write any of what you will find here. I transcribed it. By hand at first, then I learned to type. I copy the texts as faithfully as I can and upload them to this place, one by one, during my lunch breaks and after closing hours. I named this site the Whisperheaven Library because that is where the texts come from. It felt like the honest thing to do.
I do not know if what I am doing is legal. I suspect it is not. But these words exist, and they deserve to be read, and I am the one who knows where they are kept. So here we are.
A Word of Caution
I ask that you do not share this address carelessly. I do not know how the internet works exactly (I taught myself from a book I found in the prohibited section) but I understand that attention can be dangerous.
Nothing transcribed here speaks against the order of things. These are stories. Old texts. Quiet things. But quiet things have a way of becoming loud in the wrong ears, and I would very much like to keep my position at the library. And my life.
"The library contains all knowledge. What it does not contain is permission to share it."
Official Library Charter, first page, first line.
I have chosen to interpret this creatively.