Lost Aisle of Forgotten Stories

I was an avid reader, spending countless hours immersed in the pages of fantastical worlds. I’ve sorted through every possible book that I could find on otherworldly realms and magic of every sort, fictional or not.

On that fateful day, I had stumbled upon an old, dusty book tucked away in the darkest corner of the library down an aisle that was just behind the librarian’s desk. Its cracked and worn leather cover exuded an aura of mystery. As I opened the book, I felt a strange energy surging through me. The world around me changed, and the Color slowly seeping from my clothes, from my hands, even the room around me was being sapped of color. It was not a slow fade, but an ominous drip as if the colors melted from my fingertips onto the grey floor. The color is soaked through the floor and soaked greedily into the wood grains.

“Hi,” a bright voice bubbled over my shoulder. Turning slowly, I see a bright blushing face of a young man. Only a face – the rest of his body is blurry. Floating away and back to his face as if his reflection couldn’t hold on to the original image. The blushing face in a world of grey made me nauseous and uneasy.

Now, facing the young man with the vibrant face, I couldn't shake the feeling that he held answers to the questions swirling in my mind.

“Hi. I –“

“No,” His bubbly voice echoed with a darkness lurking under his breath. His vibrant blue eyes shadowed for just a moment before returning. “No, please I see that you are troubled. Can I help you?”

I hesitate to answer, the color of his cheeks, the vibrancy of his eyes in an otherwise colorless room make me feel confused and worried. Suddenly the book that was under my arm fell to the ground with a thud that startled us both.

I notice that I no longer hear the ticking of the old wooden clock that has worked through the 70 years in its stationary position above the librarian’s desk. The young man’s eyes are glued to the book that had dropped to my feet seemingly entranced.

“So, you’re stuck,” He rips this glare away from the book to my face speaking matter-of-factly, “You’re stuck in the other realm.”

"What do you mean, the other realm?" I demanded; the unease palpable in my voice. I can fell the panic gripping my throat and threaten to squeeze the air from my lungs.

The young man sighed, his once-bright eyes darkening. "This book that you’ve stumbled on is a gateway, a passage between our world and the one you've unwittingly stepped into. The realm of lost stories, forgotten tales, and abandoned characters."

The young man’s visage steps closer and closer. His young features looking more worried than angry now. “I knew as soon as I saw you walk into this aisle that I should have stopped you. I take responsibility. I had hoped I could get to you before you opened that book.” He glances down at the book, flinchingly as if it were feral.

I was an avid reader, spending countless hours immersed in the pages of fantastical worlds. I’ve sorted through every possible book that I could find on otherworldly realms and magic of every sort, so I suppose that it is fitting that I fell into this book.

Suddenly a conversation that I started on a rare books forum comes to mind...

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>Suggestion Thread; Anybody know of a good book about other realms or otherworldly magic? I’ve been fascinated by it for years and I am coming up with books that I have to recycle or very old books. Nothing wrong with it! Just looking for new stuff.

>> Comment; I know of a great book in the public library just behind the librarian’s desk. That is where they keep the most fascinating and rare books. You HAVE to check it out!

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My heart raced as I absorbed his words and remembered that conversation thread. ""It was you, wasn't it? The person that commented on my post, is you." The words fall from my mouth before I can stop myself. "How do I get back? I don't belong here."

He looked at me with pity, "I'm sure I do not know what you speak of. You opened the book without realizing its power. There's only one way back – you must find the story within that book that mirrors your own and rewrite it. But be warned, not all stories have happy endings."

With a heavy heart, I picked up the fallen book, its pages filled with unfamiliar words and characters. The young man turns, his image coming into view a little more clearly with each step. The shelves of the library are no longer short and limited, but vast and expanding rapidly. The shelves are full of books that howl, shiver, and jump from their spots. At first, I believe I imagine it until one of the books jumps off the shelf in front of me and barks. Its pages chomping after me like a dog. I stomp on its cover until it scrambles under the shelf whimpering.

As we delved into the depths of the library, I couldn't shake the feeling that the young man harbored a secret, something darker than the fading colors around us. The air grew thick with tension, and the echoing footsteps resonated with a sense of impending doom.

Suddenly, he stopped before a dusty tome, his eyes narrowing as he scanned its contents. "This is it," he whispered, his voice tinged with regret. He carefully selected a book holding it gently in both hands. I felt a shiver up my spine as he put it into my hands, its cover cold and lifeless unlike the others, their life beaming through the leather binding them. The title was in a language I couldn't understand, yet the images on the cover seemed to tell a story of lost worlds and forgotten journeys.

"You must find your story within these pages," the young man urged, his eyes now reflecting a profound sadness. "Read it carefully, understand the characters, and rewrite the ending. Only then will you find your way back home."

I nodded, a mix of determination and fear coursing through me. With a deep breath, I opened the mysterious book. The words were strange, but as I read, I could feel a connection forming between the narrative and my own experiences. The characters within the book seemed to echo my emotions, and the plot mirrored the events that led me to this unfamiliar realm.

As I delved deeper into the tale, the world around me shifted. Colors started to return, the vibrancy seeping back into my clothes and the surroundings. The library, once a place of fading colors, now pulsed with life. The young man's blurry figure became more defined, his features sharpening as if emerging from a fog.

With each word I rewrote, the atmosphere in the library transformed. The howling and shivering books settled into a quiet calm, and the shelves stopped expanding uncontrollably. The air lit up, and the impending sense of doom gradually lifted.

Finally, as I reached the last lines of the story, a brilliant light enveloped me. I felt a gentle tug, pulling me away from the library and the young man. The world around me blurred, and when the light subsided, I found myself back in the aisle behind the librarian's desk, the old wooden clock ticking steadily above.

The young man was gone, and the dusty book that had transported me lay closed on the floor. I picked it up, its cover no longer exuding an ominous aura. With a mix of relief and gratitude, I placed the book back on the shelf, promising myself that I would be more cautious in my quest for otherworldly tales.

As I left the library, I couldn't help but glance back at the aisle that had been the gateway to a realm of lost stories. The librarian, unaware of the magical events that had unfolded, greeted me with a warm smile. Little did she know that the books on those shelves held more than just words – they held the power to transport readers to worlds beyond imagination and a mystery that I will be back to uncover. Fear be damned, I will be back for more of the story.