The City of Books Part 4

Last short story post. Gosh, this weekend seems really long...I can't believe midterms ended only a couple days ago. Well, I guess I should be glad for that, but I think I let my guard down...so now I'm sick..or something. I'm not quite sure, actually. I keep sneezing and my eyes feel like they've been swollen shut. Ew. Anyway, I have a paper to write this weekend for socials class. We have to watch two films from the 50s (during the Cold War) and then analyze them. Who on earth makes a paper due on the first day 2 back after midterms? Horrid stuff.

Well, as usual, feel free to leave feedback!

Oh, and Happy Single Awareness Day. It would have been more fun if we'd spent it at school...oh well. Maybe next year the break won't fall on V-day.
Hopefully, there won't be any midterms either. Keep your fingers crossed.

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The pair entered the tall city gates. Towering guards in gleaming green uniforms stood on either side, and saluted Jett.

“See that white palace up on the hill?” he pointed to a dazzling castle in the distance. Elsa nodded, and Jett looked at her carefully, but she didn’t know how else to respond. After a while he faced forward again, his expression miserable.

As they walked through the quiet, sleepy streets, they met many people, most of whom acknowledged Jett with a nod or smile. Jett greeted them warmly, despite his obvious distress over her memories. Elsa gawked after them. Many of them wore peculiar garments; beautiful trailing gowns, wizards’ hats, ugly goblin masks.

“Why do they bow? And why do they all wear costumes?” she asked. “It isn’t Halloween here, is it?”

“At least you remember what Halloween is,” he said ruefully. “They bow because I’m…well…”

Elsa looked at him, and got a shock. “You’re—you’re…”

“Smaller? Younger?” he laughed. Elsa could not help but smile at his first, real, wonderful laugh.

“Jett, what’s happening to you?”

“It’s a natural part of the barrier. It happens each time you go through.”

“Yes, but we both went through and only you are…” she trailed off, realizing something.

“So are you, Elsa,” he replied with a teasing smirk.

She stared down at her shoes, which were flopping around on her tiny feet. She ran barefoot to stand in front of a glass store window, took one look at herself, and fainted dead away.

*                                                *                                                   *

“Elsa dear, Mummy has to go now. You stay right here, alright? There’s a sandwich and things in the fridge if you get hungry.” Hot tears splashed onto Elsa’s dark hair, and her mother wiped them away.

“Mummy, don’t go! I’m scared,” she cried pitifully. Her mother pushed her away.

“Elsa, be good.” A hesitation, and then a last hug. “I’m sorry.” And that was the last time Elsa saw her mother.

Elsa stayed in bed that first whole day, waiting for her mother, or even her beloved nanny, to return. In the morning she ate the sandwich, and afraid of the ghosts in the basement, she crept into her father’s old, cluttered library. The sight of his glasses, covered in dust motes, somehow comforted her.

There were volumes of riches in there. She spent a week—maybe two—visiting enchanted castles, treasure planets, underwater worlds full of merpeople. She only ventured out into the silent, creaking house for food and blankets, in daylight. Soon, the house was a mess and the fridge empty. One late rainy afternoon, the lights went out. Thunder clapped in the distance, and lightning flashed across the darkening skies. Elsa shivered under her blanket. Being too small to reach the matches in the cupboard, she wept, petrified by the dark. A sudden burst of light from an open book prompted her to start hiccupping. Wiping her nose, she peered into the pages. It continued to glow, pulsing and breathing like a living creature.

“Elsa, come along and play with me,” came a small voice from behind her. She whipped around, clutching the table for support.

“Who’s there?” she whispered hoarsely. A hiccup escaped her. A young boy--around her age, it seemed—stepped into the golden pool of light. His jet-black hair fell lopsidedly into his astonishing eyes.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said encouragingly. “How do you know that a book isn’t blank inside once you close it? Where do the characters go?” he asked cryptically.

Elsa blinked. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it before.” She was immensely curious about this mysterious place, now that she’d thought about it, and wanted to meet all the inhabitants of her books. The child looked at her.

“I know where you’ll be truly happy. Come, there’s nothing here for you.” Still, she was  undecided. “Time won’t pass here. You’d be back well before dinner.”

That did the trick. She’d be back, back amongst these reassuring piles of books before she knew it. Elsa exhaled in relief, and beamed up at the slightly taller boy. He took her little hand in his own.

And so, she followed him into the warm circle of light, and both vanished, leaving only a few dust motes floating up into the air and the sound of rain splashing on the windows.