Esmerelda's Tale

Maxine pushed open the door of the old bookshop. It was set in an ancient brick building sandwiched between a modern chain coffee shop and a pharmacy. A few doors down was an herb shop, always boasting sales and carrying strangely named vines. Maxine had made a habit of frequenting that shop as well. She had only been in town a few months and was debating if it was the right fit.

A bell above the door jingled, announcing her presence. The lights were off, the aisles cast in darkness. A sign had said the shop was open, but now she doubted the truth behind it. She considered turning away, but something pulled her deeper into the store. Everytime she passed the door she felt…an energy. She couldn’t explain it, but she had theories. Of course she did. What kind of woman would she be if she didn’t? Her instincts told her to go inside, but she always talked herself out of it.

She took a deep breath, noticing a strange smell in the air. Strange, but comforting. And slightly alarming. She couldn’t quite place it, but it reminded her deeply of her childhood. She struggled with the memory, it was just on the verge of appearing vividly in her mind. But what was it? It was a strange smell to exist in a shop selling mostly antique leatherbound volumes. A mix of strawberries, peppermint, and…something else. The something was the something trying to yank her back to a time she had struggled to escape for so long. It was pulling her back to Esmerelda. Esmerelda was the one she had escaped.

The name itself triggered an unpleasant sense in the pit of her stomach. For a moment, she believed she may have to rush to the closest bathroom, but she swallowed the feeling. It would pass. Just as Esmerelda would pass. Afterall, she was no more. Everyone that had known her, had laid her to rest.

Or at least believed they had.

Soon she wouldn’t even be a memory.

“Hello?” Maxine called. There was a faint light coming from the backroom, but a curtain was hung trying to block the view of the work area. She could hear slight scuffling, a hum coming from the backroom. She raised her voice a bit louder. “Hello?”

There was a clatter from the back room, a string of swears quickly following. The curtain was yanked back quickly, revealing a petite woman with a head of thick curly hair pulled into a messy knot atop her head. Bright eyes peered from thick red rimmed glasses, the woman’s cheeks were rosy and Maxine couldn’t tell if it was because was angry or because whatever she was doing had been taking an unusual amount of energy.

Her arms were wrapped tightly around a thick leather book; her fingers splayed over the cover so as to distort the title. Maxine couldn’t make out what the letters were, but could tell they were glowing. The letters were etched deeply into the red leather, symbols written with a quill were scattered across the cover and spine. The book itself seemed to be…breathing.

Maxine tore her eyes from it and forced herself to look the woman in the eyes.

“You called? What? What do you want?”

“I came looking for a book.”

“What book?”

Maxine shrugged. “Any book really.”

The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow. “Idle brain.”

“What? No.”

“You don’t know what book you need.”

“I’m waiting for a book to speak to me.”

The book store owner smirked and walked over to the counter where an old cash register sat. She shoved the thick book under the counter, taking her hands away. Maxine could hear the vibration of the book and see its glow from where she stood, but still couldn’t tell what it was. Her curiosity tugged at her and she drew closer to the counter. The closer she got, the more distinct the smell became, but she still couldn’t place it.

“What is that?”

“What is what?”

“That book.”

“Not for sale.”

“I didn’t ask if it was for sale. I think it reminds me of something.”

The woman laughed, adjusting the bun on top of her head. “How can a book you’ve barely seen remind you of something?”

“But I think I’ve seen it before.”

“What is your name?” The book keeper tilted her head to the side. She rested her hands on the counter. Maxine noticed a collection of rings along the fingers on her left hand, but the right was completely bar except for a handful of gashes and a few scars. An assortment of jewels glistened on the other hand, a sharp contrast. Beside the books glow, they had appeared dim and pale.

“Maxine.”

The book keeper clucked as the book gave another vibration. This time, throwing itself upon the ground. In a swift motion, the woman stepped upon it, keeping the volume closed. Maxine stopped herself from moving closer, her curiosity was gnawing at her.

“I think you’re lying.”

Maxine crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not.”

“The book says you are.”

“What else does the book have to say?”

“Miss, what are you looking for?”

“I need to make something.”

“I don’t sell DIY.”

Maxine rolled her eyes. “I don’t need DIY. I need that book and you know it.”

The woman shook her head, her earrings jingling as she did so. “I don’t know who you are. Because of that, you’re not getting this book.”

“But you know it belongs to me.”

“Says who?”

Maxine crossed her arms over her chest. The shopkeeper was being exceedingly difficult. If she had the book, she wouldn’t be having this problem. If she had the book, she wouldn’t be having many of the problems she was currently dealing with. She knew the book well, it had belonged to her mother and was meant to go to her but her father had donated everything that had ever belonged to her. He had tried to erase her. And then he tried to erase Maxine.

“You know it’s mine. The book told you itself.”

“How do you know about the book?”

Maxine’s pulse quickened and she could feel her right eye starting to twitch. “You’re kidding, right?”

The shopkeeper shook her head. “Nope.”

“It was my mother’s.”

“Was that so hard?”

“Yes.”

“Who was your mother?”

“Lady, just give me the damn book.”

The shopkeeper lifted her foot from the volume. The book let out a growl and attempted to slide away when she bent to pick it up. The cover flapped, opening and closing as though it were trying to bite her. She propped open the cover and looked at the list of names written on the fine paper. It was delicate but incredibly strong at the same time. She knew she wouldn’t be able to rip it, so did Maxine’s father. He had never tried to destroy it even though he had thought about it many times. There were some things that couldn’t be destroyed.

“Is your name in here?”

“What do you think?”

“Well, I know your name isn’t really Maxine and there is no Maxine in here.”

“I’m not in there yet. I’m supposed to be.”

The book slammed itself shut, the sound echoing throughout the small shop. Outside, the streetlights flickered.

“I see.”

“How much do you want for it?”

“I don’t want your money. I want the truth.”

“That’s a bit too pricey.”

“I thought you wanted the book.”

“I think everyone has their limits.”

“Don’t you need it?”

“I’m resourceful, I can get it some other way.”

“I would rather you didn’t.”

“Then give me another option.”

“Tell me why you need it.”

“That’s just as bad as the truth,” Maxine leaned against the counter. The book was so close. If she needed to, she could easily steal it. She could wait until the store was closed and break in. There would be no evidence. She may not remember everything her mother had taught her, but she did remember the incantation and the remedy to become invisible. It was fairly simple.

“Your name. Give me your first name and you can have it. Your real first name.”

There was no power in her first name. It all lay in her last. “Esmerelda.”

“And your mother was Lillith Sorenson.”

Maxine said nothing but yanked the book to herself. It smacked against her chest, she could feel the energy thrumming through it. It was just as she had remembered. Warm. Heavy. Vibrant. There were stories inside, the tale of her people and the work they had done. There were records of those murdered, of those chased away. There were reminders of those that were still missing and would continue to remain that way. She wasn’t the only one that had changed her name. The others had as well. She had cousins and sisters that were nowhere to be found. They had run. There was a hunt for people like her. People with magic in their blood. They were supposed to have the answers to the toughest questions, they were supposed to be able to solve the world’s problems.

The issue was, there was no solving something that was this broken. So they hid.

“Thank you.”

The shopkeeper smiled. “You’re welcome. Will I see you again?”

Esmerelda winked. “Doubtful.”

She walked away, never knowing that the woman behind the counter was Genevive Sorenson, her mother’s sister. The sister that had vanished years before without a trace and changed her name to Sheryl Flounce and bought a bookstore because she thought it was safe. It was not safe.

When Maxine left, and Sheryl was sure she would not return, she packed her bag and ran out the door. She never returned. She knew what would happen if more than one Sorenson lived in the area. Things would go from bad to worse and there would be no hope for reparations. The town couldn’t handle the power. Earthquakes would happen, tornadoes. Floods. She had to leave. She only hoped Maxine used the book for good, that she saved herself. There was no hope left for the others. But if she could find a sliver of peace in this world, she would be okay.

Katrina Thornley is a nature poet. novelist, and freelance journalist that resides in Rhode Island. She has two poetry collections currently published, a novel, as well as a short story anthology. Her poetry collections "Arcadians: Lullaby in Nature" and "Arcadians: Wooden Mystics" were inspired by a local park and life in her small rural town. You can find them on Amazon now!

Also, be sure to give her a follow on Instagram (@seekatwrite).