This choice: To change your mind, turn to page 91 • Go Back...Chapter #28A Dream, Hobbies and a Book by: rugal b.   You decide that perhaps that is a little out of your price range and pull the money back... and when you do you've noticed that the page of the book has turned. This is definitely very strange you think, something about this book is engrossing in an almost supernatural way. It draws you in and you find yourself being lost in what you're reading, almost as if you were experiencing it yourself.
You look at the page you've turned to, somewhere far away from where you'd started. You're a hesitant given what you've experienced but you can't really help it. You feel yourself drawn in as you study the words and begin to read.
* * * * *
You wake up with a start in a cold sweat, breathing heavily as you wipe the back of your hand across your forehead. Vivid dreams are nothing new to you but ones of such intensity? Those are much more rare and this might have been the most intense one yet. Like most of these dreams however you have a hard time remembering things down to the specific detail. Instead it's vague, half-forgotten images of things that had flashed through your mind.
There was an old, decrepit town up in the mountains. Locals and buildings that were off kilter and disquieting, an atmosphere that was oppressive and unnerving. An old woman, wicked and frightening. There were others too; young men and young women and they seemed both strange and familiar. Something about them made you skeptical and yet also put you at ease. And there was the machine. A monstrous thing as big as a barn and seemingly as old as the town. Someone had strapped you into a chair near the machine and you were stabbed by a sharp pain.
The machine clanged and sputtered as it came to life and the last thing you see is someone, you're not sure who, with something; a book or a manuscript or something of the sort. As things went black for you, you were jolted awake.
With half-open eyes you reach over to the phone on the nightstand and check the time: it's about seven thirty. A full hour and a half before your alarm is set to go off. You lay back down and try to go back to sleep but after fifteen fruitless minutes you give up and sit back up. That dream is still racing through your head; occupying your thoughts.
Was it a simple nightmare or something more prophetic? You generally try not to see what the future holds for you as to do so would make life boring. But occasionally as you sleep things will flash through your dreaming mind and it's only in hindsight do you realize that, though scrambled and disorderly, they were glimpses of things to come. But only rarely are they intense and never before have they unsettled you so much. After a few moments though you decide you don't want to consider it any more and push yourself out of bed.
"Oh, you're up early dear," your mother says as you cross her in the hall. "Did you sleep well? Your insomnia isn't back is it?"
"No, I'm fine mom. I just woke a little before my alarm that's all," you reply as you grab a towel from the linen closet and head into the bathroom.
You feel bad about lying to your parents about why you've some times had trouble sleeping well. You suppose that in a way it's not a total lie but you could never tell them the whole truth for though they know of their daughter's interest in fortune telling, considering it as a fun and interesting little hobby, what would they say if you told them the truth? That for years now you've been able to see the aura that all living things possess? That with that aura and various methods -- tarot and astrology and hell, even a crystal ball once or twice -- that you truly are able to peer into someone's future?
Your parents are certainly more understanding of your interests than most. To many at school you're simply that weird girl who likes magic and fortune telling, after all. But even your parents, tolerant as they are, would think you'd lost it. You'd probably think you were a little off yourself if not for your own experiences and the guidance being given to you by Priscilla.
Priscilla, your mentor. You look up to her, you respect her. She's taught you more in a few months than all the books you'd read in a few years. She believed fully in you and what you can do. She taught you about just who you truly are. Because you're not just the weird girl who likes magic and fortune telling.
No, you are Ursula Jensen and you are an oracle.
* * * * *
Once you're out of the shower and dressed in some of the clothing you wear for lounging around you join your parents for breakfast making polite conversation as they ask you about school and your job and other things though they do avoid bringing up anything related to your "hobby". They're tolerant of it, yes, but that doesn't mean they necessarily understand it or know how to talk about it. You wouldn't want to burden them with it anyway as, you have to admit, it's the type of stuff that really would only appeal to those already interested in it.
It's too bad that here in Saratoga Falls that seems to be a small pool of people, some of whom you don't particularly like for their annoying and unwarranted know-it-all attitudes. You want to groan knowing that you'll likely be seeing them at work this evening and you're thankful that you otherwise go to different schools.
But today is Sunday and you've still got the whole day ahead of you before worrying about work so once you're finished you head back and while browsing around on your laptop use your phone to make plans to go get lunch with Eileen Piper, your best friend, and begin to get ready. By the time you've met up at Panera though, it's grown, with Eileen having invited some other friends... largely her's though you've wound up hanging around and getting along with most of them too.
Jennifer Wallace you've known since tenth grade but Lisa Palacki, Natalie Dawkins and Amy Bautista, a junior, are more her friends than yours. Still you've been around them enough that they don't really ask anything about your "hobbies" (and it's not as if you don't have other interests as well) so you're still able to enjoy yourself all the same. But lunch is eventually over and everyone has their own things they're going to be doing so all of you part afterwards.
You still have plenty of time to kill before needing to worry about getting ready for work so you decide to head over towards Arnholm's Used Books to see if anything interesting has come in. The bell rings and you give a small greeting to Ted Arnholm, one of the two crusty old brothers that runs the store, and browse. Largely you check the fantasy section but unfortunately nothing quite catches your interest there.
You look through a few more sections but still there's nothing much that you can see yourself bringing home, even among the occult section (filled with books written by people who have not even the first clue what they're talking about), and so you're about to give up when you walk by a case and the book inside grabs your attention.
Its cover is a deep, almost bloody, red with a brilliant golden pentagram etched onto it. It's large and bulky, bigger than most of the other books you've seen, and if you didn't know any better you'd say it was less a book and more a grimoire. You notice too that the door of the case hangs open just a bit and so you reach out to open it completely and pull out the book.
"Young lady, I'll ask you not to open our cases," Ted says sternly from behind the counter.
"Oh! I'm sorry but, um, the case was already open so I just thought..."
With a grunt Ted moves from behind the counter and walks over to you. "Lemme see that," he says as closes the case only for the door to not stay shut. "Damn thing's broken," he mutters.
"Excuse me but how much is that book?" you ask.
"Just came in; part of our rare collection so two hundred and fifty dollars."
Mentally you smart at that. You have the money but that's still expensive. But if this is a grimoire and not just a regular book... "Is it okay if I flip through it for a second? I might want to buy it," you tell him.
Ted's demeanor changes to something much more congenial. "For that much money flip through it for an hour for all I care," he says as he walks back to the counter.
So you grab it, open it and are entranced by the title page with images that seem to dance and change in a way that's almost unnatural. You attempt to turn the page but to no success. You try again to the same result. You move your thumb to somewhere in the middle but still it won't budge.
"Um, sir?" you say as you bring the book up to the front, "Did you know that the pages are stuck together?"
Ted takes the book from you and attempts to open the book himself but like you he as no success in turning the pages. He opens the cover, grabs a pencil and makes a few strokes before handing it back to you. The price is crossed out and $2 is written beneath it. "You want it? It's yours. Maybe it'll make a good doorstop or something," he says. But he seems to notice your hesitation due to the pages being stuck.
"Tell ya what: if you're unsure I can hold onto it for a day and let you think about it. But if you don't buy it by tomorrow then I'm just gonna sell it to whoever wants it. Gotta get rid of it somehow."  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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