Turned

The entirety of nature in the hands of a simple librarian, an average everyday fellow.

He would wake up, shake himself to get the body stirring and brain juices flowing, grab his dream journal and write down the experiences of the night. This was his every morning—same wake-up time, same cup of coffee—the drive to work, recognizing the uniform drivers and traffic, thinking the same things he always did.

"Kill me please, make my next life something with a purpose."

It was a fool's wish, and a fool's granted dream. He was struck by an eighteen-wheeler.

Months in-and-out of the hospital and he's back to the same damn spot in his life: boring wake up routine, same reception of people to see in life, back to the parallel existence he knew. He was offered his job back as soon as he was capable. He had to take it, as his parents couldn't afford his bills.

Clock-in, clock-out: life drones on-and-on. God, I'm getting sick of this pathetic-piece-of-shit at this point. I decide to help him out a little...

Walking with a cart full of books, he returns down the aisle. He scopes through the "T" section and places a few books into random empty places, not adhering to the order of the Dewey Decimal system. After plopping a few books onto the shelf, a fume of dust bursts from a shelf an arm's length away, as if someone were blowing the dust off a copy of old scripture.

Crouching slightly to see if he can peer through to the other side of the shelf, he doesn't see anyone. Quizzically now, he darts around the aisle behind him, to the next strafe of shelves. Still, there was nobody to be seen. A confused huff to shoulder off suspicion, and he continues his lazy stroll to complete the menial task of book shelving.

"You dare ignore destiny!" A booming bark of an angered voice screams to the backside of the librarian. His neck scrunches up and he hides his head in his raised arms.

"Really? I'm playing this up for you, giving you this whole 'mysterious artifact that will change your life' discovery and you're going to, what? Chalk it up to a gust of wind or something?"

The man shivering in fear on the dusty floor turns around to see what's berating him. He sees nothing but the empty aisle and a few students walking across the way.

Confused as to why no one else appears to hear the voice, he lets out a "huh?"

"'Huh? What is this strange voice I am hearing? What could possibly be happening?' YES you moron, no one else can hear me, only you. You're being chosen, and you're already making me regret this whole damn process."

The librarian crawls around on his knees and moves slowly towards where the dust flew up.

"Uh, that's a nice one guys, you'll have to tell me how you did it."

The uncovered book flies violently off the shelf and flips its pages open to an inscription written in an unknown lettering seared in red hot print. Its words stretch further into the book and explode into flames that dance through the space of the library. Quickly and powerfully they destroy the shelves they touch; the books, computers, and attendees, into a snowy black ash.

"Do I appear to be some middle school prank!"

He stumbles frantically to let his back against the wall, reaching and grasping to the concrete behind him, hoping to find a doorknob or some sort of release to let him away.

Flabbergasted by the spectacle, the librarian cries out in nightmarish fashion, sounding as if to want to be woken up from this horrid vision.

"There were... People..."

"There were people... You know, you're really making me feel like an ass for choosing you."

"What the hell are you!"

The dancer flame stops and whips back into the pages of the book.

"Now that..."

The book slowly descends to shoulder level, the center of the room and begins to creep its way towards the man.

"...Is a conversation that we can move on to."

Every second, the book makes its way closer. An apparition of feet and legs that appeared beneath the book take a step.

"Enough of this 'people died' nonsense."

The pair of feet appear to skip jauntily, and closer the book travels. The body of a well-dressed man reveals himself from an apparent invisibility and now rushes towards the face of the librarian. Before the book reached the man, it was in the gentleman's left hand, being held behind his body. His face is bowed downward as the full frame of this fancy sir is brought into sight, then he slowly and chillingly brings up his smile to meet the man eye-to-eye.

"Hello, Chosen."