Chapter 18 - Reading
Inside, the building was deserted. Everyone was in bed on time the annoying way that they always were. All of the lights in the building had already been turned off, so the only light that illuminated the halls came from the few windows that there were.
“This way,” Max said on my right.
I turned to look at him. He pulled open a door on the left side of the hall and held it open for me. I entered the darkened, windowless room. “I’ve never been here before,” I said as I tried to make out impossible shapes in the dark.
Max flipped a switch on the wall, and the whole room lit up with a blindingly bright light. The room resembled the nurse’s office at my school. But this one seemed less often used the way everything was so absolutely tidy and perfectly in place. The daily use of the one at Wolf Point High was used every day and it wasn’t uncommon for items to be out of place.
“So, a first aid kit wouldn’t have been enough?” I watched Max open and close drawers and pull out the occasional item. I saw gauze, medical tape, peroxide, and antibacterial.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed…” He closed the last drawer and turned toward me. “But werewolves are accident prone.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I noticed.”
“Now, come on.” He motioned for me to move closer to him. “Let’s get you fixed up so I can help Bernie.”
I stood in front of him, and he began cleansing my wounds. “Something tells me you like to help people,” I said, more as a distraction from the stinging on my back. “Seems to be a theme… at least tonight.”
He was silent, and I wondered if he was even going to reply at all. He pressed the gauze on my back over my wound and carefully taped the edges. Then readjusted my shirt back to its proper position, put his hands on my shoulders and turned me toward him. “Helping people is great, it makes you feel good. You should try it.”
His accusation stung a bit, but I did feel the truth in his words. “I did attempt it tonight; you just beat me to it.”
He rolled his eyes.
I narrowed mine. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said quickly. “Get some rest. Bernie and I will take care of the… thing.”
“The lair?” I said with a horrible British accent. “Have we actually thought about what to call it?” I smiled mysteriously.
“The Library in the Ground?” he suggested.
“The Dirt Palace?”
“Old?”
I laughed softly. “Yeah, old…” My mind drifted into contemplation about how long that… creation… had actually been there. It was obviously created for the purpose of housing all of those books… or as someone’s private, personal study. Judging by the journal in my hand, it could have been as old as the mid-1800s.
Max headed toward the door and I followed him out to the hall. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Lynn. Go get some sleep.”
“Yeah, okay.” I turned from him and headed down the hall in the direction of my room. I was careful to keep my footsteps as silent as possibly. I didn’t want to disturb anyone, I just wanted to get to my room so I could pry open the book.
This one journal felt like the bestseller that I had waited months upon months for, trolling the online fan forums, and finally waiting in line for hours the day before its release. This was something that I needed to read. It contained a story that I needed to find out more about. In a way, a non-fiction book that gave me skills that I needed to acquire, like some kind of college textbook. It was both knowledge and curiosity that taunted me to read this journal. And it was the best kind of fiction, because it was real.
I pulled open the door to my room, and was sure to close it softly behind me. I shoved my shoes off my feet and laid belly down on my bed. I splayed out the book in front of me, skipping over the page that Max read and worked on the next entry.
May 23rd, 1879
Today, I saw a dove with the most glorious wings and it reminded me to live freely. We must not be weighed down with what we cannot obtain. Life’s requirements are not for us to presume. Young Lenore spoke to me today. She said I have been too hard on myself, and I must agree. If it were not for the desire to have what they do, I would be able to see that Lenore cares about my wellbeing. Rather, I should say, I see it… I acknowledge it, but it isn’t long before my mind wanders away.
The next few entries were worn so badly, that I couldn’t make out more than a few sentences, which shed no light on anything that was of importance.
April 14th, 1881
Lenore married, and I know that I have missed the rose blooming. My father—the cursed man—reminds me of the mistakes I made. I cannot help but feel this is his fault. I realize it may make a horrible man of me to accuse for hypotheses, but I say so still.
July 2nd, 1887
My son was born today—Gregory Brandon Fletcher.
That was my grandfather. That was his name, and I knew that will had to have been meant for me. This journal was written by my great-grandfather. I stared at the long-time dried ink and the aged pages thinking about his quill pen scattering over these pages.
I finally found that joy that I had been seeking. The feeling of holding the small child in my hands… an indescribable power that takes over and infiltrates even the darkest soul. The feeling did not reside long enough as my father entered the room and urged me out on a walk. He told me of what I had been fearing… Of what I always knew. He explained this to me, he said, in case he shall lay on his deathbed delirious, his grandson should know. The things he told me, I should not write here, but memorize myself. These are words of a depraved soul. Only I would believe the man’s insane story, because of the way I feel. I know it to be true. I know.
August 18th, 1905
Gregory married today. I feel keen to write about him as he lives the life I once desired. A life of knowledge and trust that he knew everything that was on this earth was visible to his eyes and his heart. The woman that he was meant for captured his interest and both are happily connected now. Gregory will leave for the army in the morning. I admire his bravery, and cannot help but see both my pride in having him as a son and my cowardice.
December 29th, 1909
I can feel my heart freezing in my chest as the year moves closer to the end. Most will be starting anew with the year, but I can feel myself coming to the end. The grief that hangs over me is too much to bear, and I fear it makes me weary. This is not a fair trade that life has dealt me. Every moment life gives me to enjoy is disturbed with these emotions that swallow me. The smile fades away. I can only feel that I’ve made others miserable in my own misery.
I welcome death. Though I have never willingly embraced this fine creature, today, I feel I am ready to move on to something else. I need to experience something new. This old man, Brandon William Fletcher, concurs. I will call this the end of my journaling. Let us all live glory days without fear.
I flipped through the many blank pages left in the book feeling cheated by having that little to read. I couldn’t believe it. These were the musings of my—apparently depressive—great-grandfather. I wished he hadn’t been so vague in his stories. Focused less on his feelings and more on what was actually going on in his life. What drove him to insanity?
Rather than answering questions, this just raised more. The only thing I actually figured out was who wrote this, and who the people involved in this historical story was. I flipped through each blank page to make sure I didn’t miss anything, any folded papers or hidden notes, but I didn’t find anything. I turned back to the entries which were illegible, and stared at them trying to make out words and guess at the missing words.
My neck began to strain and I laid my head down, pressing my cheek against the page of the journal. I stared at the journal pages which was now so close to my eyes that I definitely couldn’t make out the words. There was something comforting about the words in the journal knowing that they somehow tied to me. For now, it was the comfort of family that I had
been missing for these past few weeks.
Chapter 19 – Familiar Scene
I woke myself up before too long. The sun was still a deep golden color spilling into the room through the window. The sky was a deep, purple shade with clouds scattered only how I’d ever seen them in paintings before. I rolled out of bed, closed the journal, and pulled my blanket out from under the book and slung it over my shoulders. I peered outside at the golden sun shining over the sea of cacti covering the hills beyond. That was one thing about this place. The scenery was lush and – though how desert like it was – it was filled with a wide variety of different types of foliage.
The mountains in the far distance cast light shadows over some of the plants. I felt every second ticking by as I contemplated wandering out into the field to snatch another book from the burrow. Suddenly, it occurred to me that I couldn’t just go out anytime I wanted to grab a book. Aside from Bernie and Max, no one else could be around to snoop. No one else could know that there were ancient books in the ground. It may even be awhile before I actually get the privilege of venturing into the place.
Every moment that passed, I wondered if anyone else was awake. If no one was around, I could actually sneak out and get another book. As the sunlight illuminated the sky more and more, I talked myself out of it. This would have to wait until tonight… which seemed like such a long way away. I didn’t remember the last time I actually woke up this early before… if I ever have, and now I had no desire to actually go back to sleep. I couldn’t. It was the first time since my arrival here that I actually wanted to do anything else besides sleep.
By the time I finished contemplating sneaking out, I decided it was too late. The sun had all ready risen in the sky considerably, and I knew at least someone had to be awake. It was the time I should have gotten up. If I had to guess, I’d say it were about six o’clock in the morning, but I could have been wrong. I wasn’t any good at figuring out what time it was.
I heard the sound of footsteps patting growing louder and then getting softer in the hall outside my door. Someone else was definitely awake, which probably meant that I should start getting dressed and ready for breakfast.
I threw on some clean clothes and slipped on my shoes. I wished that I had some kind of makeup to put on. I actually felt like looking halfway decent today. Yes, there was still those underlying memories of the recent past. They didn’t disappear entirely. But instead of fearing the unknown, I was embracing it. It was keeping me going. I wanted to run into it and entirely submerge myself into it. This newfound knowledge was addicting to me.
After dressing, I headed through the quiet halls into the breakfast room. There were a few people there all ready, the only one I actually noticed was Max sitting at a table alone. He looked tired and maybe even a little bit distressed.
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