Manic Monday: Bibliophobia

If it's Manic Monday (and boy, buddy, is it--the in-laws are coming! ;-) then we need a fresh mania or phobia to make us think... Today's phobia is Bibliophobia.

Simply put, bibliophobia is a fear of books. Now this doesn't strike me as a common ailment, although who knows when you consider an Internet audience (as the Internet is technically book-free)? So, let's consider two characters, one with biliophobia...

Martin was a well-bred man, the first son of a prominent family. There was money and power in his lineage, Susan's mother had assured. And virility. Yes, her mother had pointed out, naming a long list of his sibling, Martin came from quite a line.

Susan cared very little about Martin's attributes. At this stage in her life a match was a necessity as she teetered on the edge of spinsterhood. Had she not also been one of a line, she might not have cared so much. But there were three siblings set to inherit ahead of her and she had two choices--the convent or Martin.

Her siblings had all made fair matches for themselves, but Susan had not been so fortunate. "Too quick to speak her mind." "Too fast to point out my mistakes." "Too fascinated by research." There had been a list of complaints longer than Martin's list of siblings.

And, having never put much faith into organized religion, Susan hoped Martin would be the better choice.

"He's here, lady," the maid bobbed in and out.

A tall, slender man stepped into the room, surveying the place like he already had a claim to its contents. Dark and handsome with a dangerous air that Susan immediately found distasteful, he strode forward. Ah yes, Susan recalled. He had hunted lions in darkest Africa. He had a predatory nature etched in his every glance and move.

Susan stood and closed the book she had been reading.

Martin shrieked, eyes wide.

"Well, I admit it is not Shakespeare," she said tersely, waving the book, "But every book has its merit."

Martin danced backward on quick feet. "Keep it away," he choked, eyes locked on the embossed cover.

"For Heaven's sake. It is merely a collection of John Locke's essays." She paused, noticing how his face drained of all color. "What's this, then? Are you frightened of this book?"

"All--books..." he scuttled backwards , knocking into the wall.

"Dear me," she whispered, falling back onto the loveseat. "I think I am destined for the convent after all..."

Ok, your turn--what might happen if someone had bibliophobia (other than the fact they'd never have an overdue book fine...)?

Always curious...
~Saoirse