Library of Souls

The Cursed Life of a Reader

Library of Souls

I had just finished reading yet another book. As I closed it, the pages now witness to all the emotions I had felt while reading, I looked up. Staring at the wall trying to wrap my head around the reality that it was just a book. Only an adventure that lives in my head and the pages it was written on.

It’s quite sad when you finally leave the world of reading only to come back to a sad, disappointing reality that holds none of the same magic and adventure you just closed.

Opening my window for some fresh air, I saw a small light in the middle of the backyard. It was odd, considering it was night time. It could just be a piece of trash reflecting light. It could also be something spectacular. It could be the beginning of my adventure. The beginning of my life just like the ones I read about.

Curiosity got the best of me. I knew it would be safer to stay inside, wait until daylight. It was probably nothing. Yet here I was, drawing nearer to what might be something.

I couldn't explain it. Something about it was calling out to me, an inaudible whisper.

Somehow, I knew this would change my life and I couldn't be sure if it was for good or bad.

I stood in my backyard in my slippers and robe, wondering if I was crazy. Who goes out in the middle of the night chasing a light? Whose first thought when they see a light is that it has some sort of magic?

A normal person would have just left it alone, not even given it a second thought.

Although I was far from normal. I stood over it and prayed it was more than just trash in the moonlight.

It was a stone. Small and bright and begging me to pick it up. I reached out, holding my breath. Praying and hoping to finally be in an adventure that I've read about in my books.

I wrapped my fingers around it and…nothing happened. It was still glowing between my fingers. Its surface was smooth, perfectly rounded.

I couldn't help my disappointment from the lack of happenings. Although I always knew that all those adventures in those books were just stories. None of it was real and never would be. I closed my eyes and sighed, still holding the stone. When I opened them, I nearly fell over.

I was now standing in a large room filled floor to ceiling with bookshelves. They reached farther than I could see, rows upon rows. I couldn’t tell if I was scared or happy.

“Hello?” I waited a moment but there was no answer.

With a wide grin, I stared at the shelves, my vision filled with possible worlds to visit. The dusty books were begging to be opened, to be read by prying eyes.

I was about to pick up the nearest book when an old man appeared. He seemed kind enough, “Where am I?” I asked.

”You are in the Library of Souls.”

”What does that mean? Library of Souls?”

He had a glint of sadness in his eyes as if he wanted to tell me something but couldn't, “All I can tell you is that reading here is a danger you would not expect.”

I picked up a book, now hesitant to open it, “How can reading be dangerous?”

“I asked the same question. If you were wise, you'd leave here now.”

“How? I don't even know how I got here!” I looked around and finally saw that there were no doors or windows. I was beginning to panic.

“All you have to do is drop the stone and you'll be back as you were. I cannot promise the same for you if you open any book here.”

I studied him, taking in every detail. His eyes were much older than the rest of him, as if he had been trapped in this Library of Souls for much much longer than he intended.

“How long have you been here?”

He looked down at his feet, a tear dripping down to his shoe, “I don’t know.”

literature
Abigail Wadsworth
Abigail Wadsworth
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Abigail Wadsworth

Abigail Wadsworth is a first time writer who lives in Durand, Michigan. She has freshly graduated high school and stayed with the marching band as their photographer. She inspires to bring hope and adventure to her readers.

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