"Thank you" said Katie, feeling strangely relieved.
The talk with the old man had been intense, unlike any she'd ever had before. She turned around and reached out once more for the book, with both hands this time, half expecting the old man to hit one of them with his cane again. But he didn't. As her hands inched closer towards the book, she felt a great hesitation in them, as though she was clawing at the book not through air but through some thick liquid. She actually had to use a lot of physical strength to reach out at the book, and an even greater amount of willpower. The voices in the air became louder the closer she reached towards the book. With less than an inch between her fingers and the book, she felt a heavy wind around her, and screaming in her mind. Her trembling fingers pushed through what felt like thick dough, as she became increasingly desperate to hold the book.
Then, her fingers touched the leather gently, and the whole feeling went away. Suddenly she was just a little girl in the library again, doing a very dramatic pose to hold a book. It was as easy as touching any other book. Quickly, she took it down from the shelf and hugged it.
"It seems the book likes you" said the old man "Very strange ... very strange indeed."
Katie thought this was an odd comment to make about a book. "Thanks, I guess" she said, shrugging. And with that, she began to walk off, saying: "I'll return it in a couple of days, I promise."
The old man tapped his cane on her shoulder. "One last thing before you go" he said, so forcefully that Katie almost involuntarily turned around. Once again, the old man's eyes seemed to see into her very soul, penetrating every fiber of her mind. "Be very careful. If anything strange happens, tell me at once. Probably even before you see a doctor. You'll understand what I mean soon enough. There are few books more dangerous than the one you hold now ... it is a strange fate that such a mighty artifact should bond so readily with a girl such as yourself. I know not what its motivations might be. As I say, be very, very careful. Also, you might want to run home rather than just walk tonight."
Katie shrugged again. "Catch you later" she said, as she walked out of the library.
Somehow it was now very dark outside, and the moon and stars were only occasionally visible among black clouds rolling across the sky. The air outside was cold, but brisk and fresh. Katie's tattered, unwashed uniform offered little protection, and her bare feet were getting especially cold. She couldn't get home soon enough.
Just beyond the library and mall carpark was a major street that ran between the highway and the middle of the city. There were no cars on it, which told Katie almost everybody had to be already at home with their families. She jaywalked across the street, clasping the leather-bound book firmly against her chest, right underneath her underdeveloped breasts.
Down the road, she saw a man wearing a trenchcoat. He was behind her, walking the same direction along the footpath at some distance. "Girl!" he called out to her aggressively "What are you holding?"
Katie ignored him and quickened her pace. Suddenly, she heard the man running towards her. Looking behind quickly, she saw that his shadowy figure was moving almost unnaturally fast. She remembered the old librarian's advice that it might be better to run home ... was he some kind of fortune teller? Or mind reader ... or both? In any event, Katie knew there was one thing for it. Stretching out her short stubby legs, she ran as fast as she could.
She was right by a three-way intersection with a pretty old church on the corner. She ran across the road as a truck honked loudly and braked, narrowly avoiding her. Katie kept running, clutching at the book, past a row of smaller shops and towards some suburban townhouses behind. As she ran, she was dimly aware that there seemed to be little electric sparks coming out of the book and contacting her skin. It didn't strike her as odd that she ran past the townhouses and turned into her home street, without feeling the least bit tired. She ran and ran, but her breaths were light, and her bare feet not the least bit sore.
Her house was at the very far end of the street, over a slight hill. As she ran, Katie closed her eyes and imagined it was like in her arcade game. She felt the wind tug at her unwashed hair and imagined she was a race car, zooming past her opponents as she ran at top speed. She imagined her house as the finish line ... and she was almost there, but so was the man chasing her. She had to win. She had to. It wasn't far now. She clenched every muscle in her body in hopes of making it far ahead of her competitors, focusing with all her power as she felt her legs rush up the hill and down the other side.
She was home. She'd made it. And looking behind her, the mysterious man who had chased her was nowhere to be seen.
Katie turned to her house, a white, small, run-down cottage. The lights were on and she could hear the sounds of her dad and his friends partying, with beer bottles obviously being a major feature of the party from the sound. Katie walked around to the back of her house, where there was an empty section with a cheap, rarely-used clothes line. The house had a small rear entrance that was right by Katie's room, which she often used to avoid attracting attention at these kinds of gatherings her parents hosted.
With a loud creak, Katie opened the door and tried to sneak inside.
"Where have you been?" demanded her dad.
"The ... the library" stuttered Katie, holding up the leather-bound book as proof.
Her dad's friend Toby was beside him in the hallway. There were other guys in the living room, seemingly having a good time. They often hung out there if they were removed from bars.
"What a nerd" said Toby "My boy Andrew says he caught her playing those old arcade games again."
"Those coins are my beer money! Girl, if you do this tomorrow, you're getting hurt, you understand?" said her dad, which made Katie aware of the fact that strangely, despite being just hit by a cane several times, her hand no longer hurt at all.
Katie nodded. "I'm going to bed" she said.
In the relative safety of her bedroom, Katie lit a candle. Her bedroom didn't have a light, because it was broken and her family didn't want to fix it. Inside was her mattress, a pile of clothes, a few old arcade game guides, and some old gossip magazines she'd read a thousand times over. The walls were featureless asbestos, which explained why nobody else wanted to live in the house. For her parents, all that mattered was that the rent was cheap ... more money for drinks and smokes, as her mum had explained to her. Her mum had looked so proud that day, as though she'd made an investment to put economists to shame.
On her mattress, which wasn't very comfortable, was a blanket that was slightly too small for her. Katie wrapped her cold feet in it and laid down, not bothering to disrobe. She was more excited to read the book. The strange voices she'd heard in the library and the man chasing her all seemed to lead up to this moment.
Before opening the book, Katie took another moment to admire the cover. The gems sparkled and seemed to light up the whole room with color. The flickering candle-light, combined with the glowing gemstones, filled the made the whole area seem somehow magical. For whatever reason, the multicolored refracted light from the gems seemed to fall mostly on Katie's body, and her eyes were wide open with wonder. But the most remarkable thing about the book cover, only visible in the dark (though it had escaped Katie's notice before) was that the title was written in glow-in-the-dark red ink, that shone like glitter in the darkness. It was easily the most beautiful book Katie had ever seen. She felt unworthy to read it, but somehow aware that it was a book of great power, and that there was nothing more she wanted now than to taste this power for herself.
Reluctantly, and with much trepidation, Katie unlocked the metal clamps and turned the heavy front cover. The pages were not as sparkly as the cover, but they had their own shine to them, printed on thick parchment that made them easy to read even in the dim light. The first page only repeated the title, and it crossed Katie's mind (for the first time) to consider what the book's subject might be. She wondered if it would be a non-fiction book, like a recipe book or a self-help book. Perhaps it was a story, or perhaps it was mostly in another language. The old librarian mentioned that the book itself was powerful, but Katie had no idea what that meant.
Inside the front cover, several previous owners of the book had written their names in faint pencil. Some looked similar to Chinese or ancient Egyptian, and all of them were names Katie didn't recognise. Regardless, Katie pulled a golf pencil from under her mattress and added her name to the others.
"What are your secrets?" she whispered aloud to the book as she turned the page again. This page was full of writing, without so much as a table of contents of chapter header. The font was gothic, almost appearing hand-lettered. It was quite small print, but it was legible even for Katie with her poor eyesight. With her anticipation now reaching boiling point, Katie began to read...
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author