Passionate Pages

The first thing Jack noticed was the cat clock on the wall. It was one of those black and white models you’d expect to find in a housewife’s kitchen in the 60’s, its tail swinging in time to the eyes that swept the room from left to right. The shop was quiet enough that he could hear the ticking all the way across the room, past the crowded shelves of books that caught his eye next.

The shelves towered above him, nearly reaching the ceiling that must have been three stories high, although Jack didn’t see any ladders that would make obtaining those books possible. But there was something up there, he realized on closer inspection. A fluttering of wings. A small body flitting from one stack to the next, lifting books that were twice its size.

Something grunted behind him. Tearing his attention away from the flying creature, Jack turned around to find a massive shape looming over him. It was over eight feet tall and covered in thick, gray hair from its face to its foot that was tapping the floor impatiently. Jack gasped and backed away from the monstrosity who merely shrugged its fur-bound shoulders before reaching for a book that he’d been blocking moments before.

Jack continued to back away from what he could only guess was an abominable snowman until another curiosity stopped him in his tracks. It was a person, of that much he was sure, but the man seemed to be made of vapor and shadows, drifting along the stacks on feet that never touched the ground. Before he could blink, the ghost sailed through a bookshelf and disappeared from sight.

Where was he? And how did he get there? Breathing harshly, Jack whipped his head from left to right, taking in everything around him much like the clock ticking on the wall. He stood in a maze of bookshelves, all stacked with leather bound books that seemed older than time itself. But stranger than the books were the people, or things, examining them. 

In the low orange lighting, Jack observed all kinds of patrons browsing for books, minding their own business as if this wasn’t some kind of haunted house from hell. Another furry creature with clawed hands smelled each book it touched, as though it were hunting for a specific scent. A woman with two heads bickered back and forth with herself in hushed whispers, each head arguing over the books she held. In a dark corner, a bald man ran his hands over the stacks of books almost lovingly as he felt their spines. When he turned, Jack saw that his face was as smooth and blank as the back of his head, with no eyes, nose, or mouth to define him. 

Just when he thought he’d lost his mind, a bright and cheery voice startled him back into reality.

“Welcome to Passionate Pages! My name is Penelope and I’m at your service!”

The voice belonged to a young, pink haired girl wearing a black leather outfit complete with silver studded boots. Standing a foot shorter than Jack, she tilted her head back to see his face. When she met his eyes her own lit up even brighter than before, as if she’d stumbled into a celebrity.

“You’re a mortal!” She gasped. “I thought today was just going to be another boring day, but here you are, popping up to change all that! I haven’t waited on a mortal in eons!”

Jack stared at her blankly, wondering, not for the first time, if this was some elaborate dream he’d concocted. The girl took his silence as an invitation to ramble on.

“It hasn’t actually been eons, of course. I think the last mortal I helped was three moons ago. Pretty girl, less than two decades old. She needed a way to get rid of a stalking ex-boyfriend that wouldn’t get off her back. I found the perfect spell book for her, just as I’ll find the perfect solution for you. What brings you in today?” 

Jack blinked and examined the titles closest to him. Spell book? What kind of bookshop was this? 

“I have no idea how I got here,” he stuttered, finally meeting her gaze again. He noticed her eye color for the first time, a light and soft lavender. She might not have been as monstrous as the furry beast or faceless man, but something told him she wasn’t human either. 

Penelope smiled, and Jack breathed a sigh of relief when he noted the absence of fangs.

“You’re here because you need to be here.” She gestured around the bookshop, “Just as this place exists because it needs to exist.”

Jack gaped at her again, causing her to giggle. 

“You humans are too entertaining,” she laughed. “Although your memories aren’t the best. What were you doing before you got here? What were you looking for?”

Jack scratched his head as he tried to remember anything that happened before he opened his eyes and saw the ticking cat. He had been on his way to a bookstore, if only he could remember why…

He froze. It was because of the spot. 

Two weeks ago he’d stood next to his wife in the tiny bathroom of their studio apartment as they both got around for work. As she gathered her long, dark hair into a bun on top of her head, he noticed the spot on the back of her neck. It was a dark protrusion the size of his thumb, marring Rachel’s flawless skin where no mole had ever rested before. 

It’s probably nothing, she insisted, although she agreed to make an appointment with the dermatologist who was booked solid for three months straight. It’s just a spot, she said each time the subject resurfaced. The words that remained unspoken seemed to swim laps around Jack’s mind, spinning a web of doubt and worry that grew tighter and tighter around his heart.

Melanoma. Skin cancer. Just a spot. Neither of them brought up the fact that Rachel’s grandmother had died of malignant melanoma herself, or the fact that if this spot was melanoma, it might be too late to treat by the time she was able to have it examined. 

Jack scoured the internet in search of anything that might give him hope, but Rachel quickly shut him down. She wouldn’t have agreed to spend hundreds of dollars on essential oils claiming to cure cancer. She was a woman of science, and miracles didn’t come in glass bottles.

So he walked the six blocks to a local bookshop, hoping something would catch his eye. But he didn’t remember walking into the store. Somewhere along the way, he’d been magically transported here. 

Realizing he’d just spaced out for nearly five minutes straight, Jack blushed at the girl’s sideways grin. 

“My wife has a spot,” he spluttered lamely. Then, in a quieter tone, “I think it’s cancer.”

Penelope clapped her hands together as if he’d just answered a very difficult riddle. “Oh, that’s an easy fix! Right this way, sir.”

Following the pink hair through the maze of shelves, Jack soon found himself stepping through a tall archway and into a circular, open room in which the walls were made up of a single, massive bookshelf. 

Penelope skipped to a section of books bound in blue leather and grabbed one at eye level without hesitating. 

“Here you are!”

Jack reached to accept her offering before he could think better of it. The book was small, barely larger than his hand, and the title gleamed in metallic silver on the pale, blue cover. Simple Home Remedies. 

Penelope flipped through the book as he held it in his hands, stopping on page twenty-nine. The top of the page was filled with a black and white drawing of an old man’s face, his cheek turned to show off the large, black mole residing there. Ingredients were listed below the drawing like you’d find in a cookbook. 

If this was some magical potion he needed to prepare for his wife, there was no way he'd be able to find all the components. But when his eyes flitted over the list, he was surprised again. There were no witchy ingredients like “eye of newt” or “boomslang skin”. In fact, all of the ingredients it listed could be found in his cupboard at home. 

Jack shook his head at the book. “How is this possible? You can’t tell me flour, sugar, vanilla, and all this other stuff adds up to a magical cure for my wife’s cancer. It just doesn’t work like that.” He closed the book and tried to hand it back.

Penelope smiled and gently pushed the book into his chest. 

“For a normal person, under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t work. But since you came here, and you need it to work, it will. You humans feel the need to complicate things immensely, but it’s really rather simple.”

The girl pulled up her long black sleeve, revealing five watches strapped across her wrist and arm, all set to different times. One of them, Jack noticed, had thirteen hands.

“Well, would you look at the time! I’m due for my next client.” She pulled her sleeve back down and led him out of the round room. “If you ever find yourself in need again, I do hope Passionate Pages has the privilege of setting your path straight. Until then!”

She gestured down an aisle of books, pointing him in what he hoped was the direction of the exit. Jack found his footing and began to make his way down the stacks. He turned his head as he walked and called back over his shoulder. 

“What if I get lost in here? How will I find my way out?”

Penelope was gone, but her disembodied voice drifted to him from somewhere within the store. 

“The same way you got here, of course. Good luck with your wife, Jack!”

He didn’t have time to ponder the fact that he’d never told her his name. His feet continued forward, and when he turned to look ahead he walked straight into a bookshelf, knocking himself out cold.

*

“Hey mister, are you okay?”

Light burned through his eyelids. Jack brought his hands to his face to shield himself from the sudden reemergence of the sun. He lay on the concrete outside the bookshop he’d planned on visiting that morning before he found himself caught within a fairy tale.

“What happened?” he asked groggily.

He recognized the young woman as the one who worked the register at the local bookstore. She helped him to his feet and brushed off his jeans.

“You were on your way inside when the door smacked you in the face. I rushed out here as soon as I saw what happened. You were only down for a moment, but I hope you don’t have a concussion or anything.”

So it was a dream, Jack thought sadly. Just a dream fabricated by a husband who’s terrified of losing his wife. Of course a bookshop like Passionate Pages could never exist in real life. 

He turned to go, all plans of visiting the bookstore abandoned, but the girl stopped him.

“Hey, I think you dropped this.”

She handed him the blue book, and he laughed when he saw its title. Simple Home Remedies. Maybe humans did have a knack for making things more complicated than necessary.

Jack was grinning widely at the girl (who was backing away uncomfortably, he was amused to see) when the door opened in front of him. Two teenagers walked out of the bookstore, holding the door open long enough for him to note the object hanging on the far wall of the shop.

It was the ticking cat clock, its tail swishing merrily from side to side just as it had in its other location. But the eyes weren’t moving this time. Instead, the cat pegged Jack with an all-knowing, smug look before it winked and disappeared.