A Page Turner

Abagail sat in her car outside the nondescript structure, looking back and forth between it and the card in her hand. The invitation was as unremarkable as the building. A matte black postcard with just coordinates, a time, and a date on the back in small white letters. The postcard didn’t even have Abagail’s address or postage on it, so she was not sure how it got to her.

Earlier today, she came home from a particularly difficult day of work and school. She had gotten a D on a biology quiz that she had studied hard for. At work, she spilled a cup of soup on a customer. Usually an instantly fire-able offense, her manager only gave her a warning and a three-day suspension because he liked her. Abagail could not afford a three-day suspension. She had bills to pay, including college tuition. As an orphan who aged out of the system, she had no family or friends to fall back on when things were rough. She was all alone. 

At age 18, she had the bright idea to go to school and become a doctor. She had no clue where she got the idea that such a lofty and lucrative goal was possible, but after she graduated high school, she started her climb. She attended community college for two years, then transferred to a four-year university. Now, only two years into her plan, Abagail was 20 and tired of doing it all alone. Days like today caused her depression to get the best of her. The depression would lie to her and make her feel like the only way out was…out. Lately, with nonstop school and work, she had more and more days like that.

She looked at the black card again. Coordinates, date, and time. She sat in her older black Subaru, looking at the building. “Well, I’d say that I hope I don’t die today, but I don’t really care,” she said to herself, getting out of the car. Like a seasoned boxer, the wind whipped around the car door and punched her in the face. She pulled the hat down on her head as it fought in vain to stay on top of her big afro. She quickly exited the car and zipped her jacket as far up as it would go. The sun had gone down an hour ago, and Abagail found herself standing on the empty street in the dark alone. “Yup, I’m going to die today,” she said out loud, shrugging her shoulders and shaking her head.

The block was full of single-story storefronts. Many of them had for rent signs in the window. Abagail had never been on this side of town, so she had no idea how deserted it would be at this time of day. She followed her phone’s GPS until it said she had arrived. It was a windowless brick building with overgrown trees in front of it. There was no easily discoverable door, so Abagail reached out and felt around the brick.  She found a door handle and pulled, ducking under the ivy that was growing over it. She pulled the door open and stepped into a dark hallway. I’m stupid for coming to a random building. 

“Hello,” she said, drawing out the syllables a little, her voice revealing her uncertainty. 

“Hello,” her echo came back, sounding as if it wasn’t sure if she should be here either.

“Anybody here?” said into the void. 

“Yes,” came back an answer in her echo. 

I came this far. She stepped into the hallway, and the door heavily closed behind her. Almost instantly, lights on the floor lit up, helping her navigate her way down the hall. She reached the end, and another door blocked her way. “Enter Only Upon Invitation,” it read in big red letters. “I have an invitation,” she said to herself. She pushed the door, and it felt like she was trying to move a boulder. It didn’t budge an inch. She looked around for other doors or entrances and saw none. She looked at the door again and noticed a slit underneath the word “Invitation.” It looked small enough to insert a piece of paper. She took the invite out of her pocket and slowly slid it in. The door rumbled, pushed back, and slid to the right. 

Abagail entered the room with her mouth wide open, eyes not blinking, and bated breath. She could not believe what she was seeing. Rows upon rows of books were sitting in the sky. They were arranged as if they were on bookshelves, but there were no shelves there. The books were literally suspended in the air, floating on their own. Everywhere she looked, she saw rows of them. 

“Welcome to Books of Wonder,” came a voice from her left. Abagail gasped and jumped at the realization that someone was close to her. She turned and saw an exceptionally small Black woman, no taller than five feet. The woman had long coarse silver hair that cascaded down to her feet. She wore black-rim framed glasses, blue jean overalls, a white smock, and no shoes. The woman was not moved by Abagail’s shock, yell, or jump. “I’m Thelma, the bookkeeper,” she said, stretching her hand out.

Abagail looked at the small woman’s hand for a second before reaching her own out. When they touched, Abagail felt a connection. It felt like a lite electrical shock and deja vu combined in one. “I’ll be your guide for the night. We don’t have much time, so let’s get you started,” Thelma said.

 “Started with what?”

“Reading, of course, my dear,” Thelma said. She pulled a small crown royal bag out of her smock and threw what looked like glitter at Abagail’s chest. 

“What’s that,” Abagail asked, her eyes wide and head rearing backward. She put her hands to her chest, trying to wipe it off.

 “Just a little magic,” Thelma said nonchalantly. Abagail felt warm all over as she looked up at the books floating all around the room. She suddenly felt her feet slowly lift off the floor. She looked down and saw that she had started to float into the air.

“What the hell is happening,” she yelled to Thelma, who was floating next to her, her voice sounding strained, body shaking from fear. 

“We have to be able to get to the books,” Thelma said, grabbing Abagail’s hand and steering her to a collection of books.

“Are those drugs? Were those drugs you just sprinkled on me? Am I high?” Abagail said, trying to hold back tears. That made Thelma giggle. “No, dear, you’re not on drugs. It was a magic powder that made you fly. I promise you’re perfectly safe.” Thelma said, then removed her hand from Abagail’s tight grip. Once freed, she started doing flips in the air. After a few twirls and swirls, she looked at Abagail. “Okay, now you try it.” 

Despite being wary of the ominous invitation, nondescript building, and haunting hallway, she suddenly felt at peace. She trusted Thelma, so she placed her hands in front of her and bent over to do the world’s slowest air flip. Thelma clapped for her. Abagail did a few twirls and laughed as she threw her head back. 

“Now that we have the jitters out of the way.” Thelma hooked her finger in a “come here motion,” and floated toward a section on the right that said, “Children's Books.” Abagail, 

could not process that somehow, even though the building only looked one story high on the outside, inside, they were easily floating three stories above the ground. “What is this place,” Abagail asked with wonder in her voice. 

“I told you, dear, this is Books of Wonder. You must keep up if you want to see all the important books tonight.” Thelma smiled at her, a warm smile that Abagail imagined a grandmother would give her granddaughter. Being an orphan, she had no context for those types of interaction. Having a family member who loved and cared for her sounded as unimaginable to her as the idea of a floating library.

“This is our children’s section. What was your favorite book as a child?”

Abagail thought about it for a minute. “Go Dog Go. It was the first book I learned how to read.” Suddenly the book Go Dog Go started floating toward them on its own like it had been summoned. Thelma floated next to her and waited patiently as the book made its way over. “Good choice,” she said once the book floated in front of them. “Go ahead, flip it open,” Thelma encouraged. Abagail grabbed the book, and instead of opening it to the first page, she opened it to the last. Out of the book grew a large tree. At the top of the tree was what Abagail could only describe as a dog party. A big dog party! Dogs of all sizes and colors were hanging out on the treetop. Some were jumping rope. Some eating ice cream. Some jumping on a trampoline. But they were very clearly having a party.

Abagail remembered the scene from the book but found it hard to believe. It had come to life right before her eyes. One blue dog with black spots and a yellow party hat was climbing up a ladder on the side of the tree. As the dog passed, it dipped its hat at Abagail, wagged its tail, and bent its head like it was waiting for something. 

“Go ahead, pet him,” Thelma said encouragingly. Abagail’s eyes went big for a second, and then she sprang into action, bending down and rubbing the dog on its head. That made his tail wag even more. “Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?” Abagail asked in a low sing-song voice. After a few seconds, Abagail stopped petting him. He tipped his yellow hat at her and continued his climb up the tree to the dog party. Abagail sat there with her mouth open, eyes wide, looking back and forth between Thelma and the dog tree. Then Abagail let out a hearty laugh.

“Is this real,” Abagail asked, uncertainty dripping from her words.

“Yes, dear.” Thelma reached over and started closing the book. The tree and all the party dogs slowly disappeared into it. After it was closed, the book floated back to its spot. Abagail giggled. No longer focused on whether what she was seeing was real. Now just focused on experiencing it all. 

“Come on dear, we have more to see.” Thelma floated a little higher and they floated towards a door off the ceiling. It opened as Thelma approached it, and they went through into another room with even more books. To the left were books titled “Rare Breeds” and to the right were ones titled “Nonfiction.” Abagail noticed that the “Rare Breeds” books were not only floating, but they also appeared to be shaking, growling, and emitting from the pages lots of screaming.

“What’s going on with those books,” asked Abagail. She looked closer at them. And why are they under lock and key, she said, pointing at them but looking at Thelma. Thelma hurriedly floated towards Abagail and grabbed her by the arm and moved her away before she could start reading the titles. “We mustn’t read those books,” she said, Abagail, noticing for the first time that Thelma had an ever so slight English accent. “Those are horrible stories where horrible things happen. We can’t allow those characters to just freely float out because they never want to go back in.” 

Abagail got a chill down her spine and allowed herself to be led away from the books. A book on the end growled at her as she passed. 

“This is the Nonfiction” side dear. The most prized collection of books we own. Abagail looked at the books and they appeared to go on for miles and reach further up than she could see. “Okay,” Abagail said, rolling her eyes around and drawing the words out. 

Thelma smiled like she had a secret. “What’s your name and birthday dear? Abagail looked at her with furrowed brows and puckered lips. “Abagail Elise Johnson, October 28, 2002.” Before Abagail could ask why she wanted that information, a book started floating toward them. It was a thick book with leather binding. The front of it read, “Abagail Elise Johnson, October 28, 2022.”  

“What’s this?” Abagail said, pointing to the book floating in front of her face, with her name and birthday on it.

“It’s the story of you,” Thelma said softly, putting her hand on Abagail’s shoulder. “Go ahead, open it.”

Unlike before, Abagail didn’t choose to open the book to the last page. She opened it about an eighth of the way. Out popped her standing in a white coat taking pictures at graduation.

“That’s me,” Abagail said looking at herself at her white coat ceremony. 

“Yeah, you’re a doctor,” Thelma said with amusement in her voice. “Go ahead, pick another page.” 

Now excited, Abagail went a few pages further in the future and saw herself and a man playing with two small children in a beautiful home. Abagail couldn’t do anything to stop the tears that fell from her eyes. “I have…a family?” she says, getting choked up.

“Yes Abagail, you have your own family.”

“Why are you showing me this?” Abagail asked teary-eyed and snotty-nosed. 

“To show you that your story isn’t close to being finished. You have so much more to live for. You’re not a failure or anything of the other negative things you say to yourself.” Abagail continued to cry. Thelma reached up and brought Abagail’s head to her shoulder. They stood like that for a long time. The entire time they had been slowly descending to the ground. Before Abagail knew what had happened, she stood back on the floor. She straightened up and turned away from Thelma.

“I’m so sorry, I’m not usually that emotional around strangers,” Abagail said while wiping tears away with the back of her hand. She turned around and said “Thank…” but her thought was interrupted when she realized she was talking to herself. Thelma was no longer standing there. Abagail turned around in a circle looking for Thelma but saw no trace of her. Suddenly she heard heavy metal moving. She looked behind her, and the heavy door she walked in was again opened. She could see the hallway illuminating a path back to the outside exit. She looked up one more time, just to make sure she had seen what she thought she saw. And there the books were, floating in the sky. She walked out the door, down the hallway, and back out the front door. 

When she got in her car, she sat there for a few minutes processing and crying. After about five minutes, she used a fast-food napkin to wipe her face, then she looked in the mirror. She smiled at herself, started her car, and drove off, more determined than before to keep going.