The Unfinished Novels

It’s the start of a new day!

The bookshop owner eagerly gazed out his storefront’s window, awaiting the arrival of his newly acquired customers. Although his London shop had been open for 60 years, with him at the helm for over half its lifetime, every day still felt like its grand opening. His mother was the originator of the shop and the day she shared the family’s secret was forever imprinted in his mind. The secret is hidden deep within every book’s page, completely oblivious to the naked eye. Although hard to uncover, the premise is actually quite simple. For customers who aren’t interested in the truth, they enter and leave the shop none the wiser. However, for those seeking answers, the shop gives them more than they could ever imagine.

***

Darcy made her way up the steps to her flat while grasping her coffee and croissant. She turned over her free wrist to check the time. 8:55AM. She enjoyed the rush of making it home just under the wire. Anything to provide a little excitement and temporary relief from the dull, repetitive nature of her remote office job. 

Just as the key entered the lock, Darcy heard footsteps coming closer and closer. She spun around and saw her mailman, Ray, trodding up the stairs. 

“Hiya kiddo,” Ray said, with a kind twinkle in his eye. Ray had been Darcy’s mailman for over 10 years. They had developed a father-daughter relationship, probably as an attempt to fill a void in both of them.

“Hey you”, Darcy smiled with a childlike ease and gave Ray a one-armed hug, balancing her croissant and coffee with skill. 

“Anything interesting today?”

Ray rummaged through his bag.

“Looks like just your regular bills and catalogs, my dear. But hey! You never know what the day will bring.” Ray winked and handed Darcy a stack of paper. With a slight tip of his hat, he spun around and started his descent..

Darcy sighed. If only I had Ray’s zest for life. 

Darcy was a hyper-intelligent girl who had fallen into the trap of overthinking. She often felt like Leonardo da Vinci in her continued quest to find out “why.” However, unlike Leonardo, she had no famous paintings or inventions to her name, just her marketing job that was as uninspiring as the media company she worked at.

Darcy tucked the stack of mail under her arm and proceeded to enter her apartment building. However, one flier escaped from the pack and made its way onto the stone steps. 

Ugh, just my luck. Begrudgingly, Darcy placed her remaining mail and sustenance down, and began chasing after the flier. As she finally made her way to pick it up, she felt an excitement wash over her. Her eyes darted to the large letters that rang out “The Bookshop.” She continued down the flier:

“Need answers? Come visit us at 21 Ebury Street, London SW1W 9QD, United Kingdom.”

Hmm, how very vague. As she was about to turn back around she felt a weird sensation, unlike one she’d ever felt. It was as if an energy field was pulling her down the steps and into the street. She stood there holding the flier. The possession of it rendered her unable to focus on anything except getting to this bookshop as quickly as possible. 

I do need answers, she thought. And then, without any rationale, she marched down the remaining steps and started on a direct path to Ebury Street. 

***

Abbott felt the cold winter air rush past him as he made his way down the cobble street. His soft, plaid scarf wrapped loosely around his neck, his dark topcoat draped his tail, lean frame. He stopped for a minute to run his hands through his light brown hair and felt a burning set of eyes. He slowly looked up to see a young female gazing at him from across the street. He nodded, flashed an obligatory smile, and continued to wobble down the uneven street. 

Maybe if he was in a different place… a better place.

He looked up at the street sign and saw “Ebury Street.”

I ran away…

Abbott muttered over and over to himself. He ran away like a coward. Ran away to escape his heartbreak and his problems. The familiar critical voice in his head began to creep up. Abbott shook his head, as if that would rid him of years of neurological programming. 

He felt a draw to London, for reasons that he couldn’t even begin to explain. Everything about this trip fell into place, in a way that made so much sense that Abbott found it almost to be nonsensical. He thought back to a month prior and how effortlessly London entered his mind as a destination. He then began to see signs scattered in his everyday life: a casual mention by his local barista, a London travel guide he almost stepped on when walking the streets of Brooklyn, and the blaring of “London Calling” that echoed out in the supermarket.

Abbot turned the corner and saw his destination up ahead.

“The Bookshop,” he whispered with a slight smirk. “Not the most creative name, huh?” 

The shop was recommended to him by an acquaintance he had made on the plane the night prior. Having had one too many drinks, Abbott held the ear of an older gentleman who was kind enough to give him the floor for the six-hour flight. As they were parting ways, the gentleman recommended a bookshop that sold “unconventional versions of “self-help” books.” Abbott was slightly perplexed by that description, but was intrigued nonetheless. 

Abbott descended upon the shop and made his way up the steps to the dimly painted olive green door. 

Here goes nothing. He gave the handle a squeeze and a push.

***

Darcy’s logical mind started to creep back in as she made her way to the nondescript shop. She looked down at her watch. 

9:30AM! Darcy stopped for a minute and whipped out her phone. She needed to get a message out to her boss as to why she wouldn’t be available this morning. Her eyes wandered and made their way across the street, landing on a statuesque man walking by.

Goddamn! She smiled her million-watt smile at him.

Focus, Darcy! She realized she had been staring for 5 seconds too long. Her fingers started typing furiously:

“Hi Lisa, I had a doctor’s appointment this AM that has run over its allotted time. I’ll be online in the next 45 minutes! My sincere apologies.” 

Darcy heard the swoosh of the message, confirming it was sent. She looked around and saw the man was already 50 paces ahead. However, she was able to see that he was turning the corner onto the same street she was headed.

I wonder if he received the same flier.

She stood there as her pragmatic thoughts crept into her head. What on earth did she think she was going to find inside this bookshop? She sighed and shook her head, as if that would erase the doubt.

Darcy started walking again, this time picking up her pace. As she turned the corner onto Ebury Street, she felt a sense of lightness and ease. She spotted the faded red awning up ahead with “The Bookshop” painted in white letters.

***

Abbott entered the shop and heard a bell ring out. He took a quick glance around; the walls were lined with books that appeared worn and used. 

Abbott saw a familiar older man who was standing behind the cash register. The shop owner called out:

“Hello there! Happy to see you made it out of customs” 

This was the man from the plane the night before! Although the plane was dark and he had been in an alcohol-induced haze, the familiarity set in.

“Um, well hello there! I didn’t realize this was yours! I guess I missed that in our conversation last night”, Abbott said sheepishly. “Those gin and tonics really got to me.”

The bookshop owner tilted his head back and let out an uproarious laugh.

“It’s okay my dear boy, I’m so glad you found your way here. Why don’t you take a look around while we wait?”

While we wait?

***

As Darcy entered, she alerted the shop with a bell ring. She smiled meekly at both the visitor and person behind the cash register. She saw the visitor was the young man who she encountered earlier in her journey.

Darcy gave a slight, uncomfortable wave, and began scanning the room. The small bookshop was quaint, charming and inviting. However, there were no categories listed or book titles that she could discern. Just unremarkable books that lined the walls. 

Darcy further progressed into the shop, with the flier in hand. 

“Um, hi there. I found this flier in my mail this morning and uh, I was just curious to learn about the types of books you had in stock.”

Abbott stood there watching Darcy uncomfortably describe her presence. He couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she was. Her brown curls framed her face and stretched halfway down her back. Her hazel eyes had a knowing glean to them, but were also somehow full of mystery. There was something about this girl that screamed “I have lived.”

The shop owner looked at his two customers with glee. The purpose of the shop was always to help people. It was to empower them with the knowledge of the unknown and to allow them to use that to shape their life choices. 

“Let me go retrieve your books from the back.”

***

Darcy and Abbott smiled uncomfortably at each other as the shop owner departed behind the curtain. 

“So, I reckon there’s some things you'd like answered, huh?” Darcy posed. For some reason she felt a sense of comfort with this man she just met. He felt warm, welcoming, and most importantly, non-judging. 

Abbott nodded. 

“I’m here in London because I wanted to get away from my life in New York. I needed space to get over someone who I thought was very important to me. And after losing them, I realized my depression wasn’t about them. It’s my life I’m actually bored of and they were just filling the void.” Abbott paused for a minute. “I just want to find meaning and purpose and I don’t know how to go about doing that.”

Was that too much? Where did he get off sharing so much to a complete stranger?

To his surprise, Darcy started nodding in agreement. 

“Believe me, I get it. I find myself in this state of analysis-paralysis and I don’t know what path to turn down. I feel like I keep trying to find the answers, but I’m not getting anywhere. Always met with more questions. And really hard questions, analyzing my purpose.” Darcy stopped. Why did she think that this person would care about her struggles? 

Abbott grinned. “It sounds like we both are experiencing similar feelings. Hopefully we came to the right place? It’s odd how I ended up here, to be honest. It’s almost like some force outside of my rational mind brought me here.”

“I feel the same way." 

Darcy and Abbott looked at each other. This whole thing was incredibly confusing. 

“Okay, we really need to see what is in these books. I can’t take the suspense much longer.”

***

The shop owner made his way to the storage closet he had behind the register. He grabbed the step ladder from the corner and worked his way up to the top shelf. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers down a book’s dusty spine. He pulled it from the others and turned to the first page. “Abbott McKinley” was written in a beautiful, cursive print. 

Bingo!

He then moved down a few steps and started thumbing through a set of inky black books, coming to one that was slightly more weathered than the rest. He extracted it from the shelf and opened it to the first page. “Darcy Patrick” was staring at him in bold, extravagant font. 

Perfect!

The shop owner held both books in his hands and felt the familiar spark. He paused for a minute, grounding himself and holding on tightly to the binding. Such small items held so much power.

Let’s see how these kids do.

Not a moment after, the shop owner returned from behind the curtain, books in hand. 

“Here we are!” he announced excitedly. He rushed over, as quickly as his tired legs could take him, and handed the books to their respective owners. “Now before you open them, I have to give you the official disclaimer.” 

The bookshop owner paused for a minute, closing his eyes as if to recharge.

“These books are your very own, personal stories. Every page, every chapter is about what has happened in your life or what is going to happen. The thing is, you can only read ahead a year at a time. So Abbott, for example, you’re 35 correct? You can read from the years 1986 through the end of 2023. At the end of 2023, a new chapter will await you. And the book is yours to keep and take home.”

Darcy and Abbott looked, mouths agape with incredulity. Their confusion seeping out and filling the space around them.

“You’re joking, right,” Abbott said in disbelief. “There is no possible way this is real, right?”

“Take a look for yourself,” the shop owner held out Abbott’s respective book.

Abbott hesitantly moved towards the man. He reached out his hand, immediately feeling a calming sensation wash over him. Tingles shot down his back and circled up his legs and out his arms. Abbott grasped the book and opened up to Chapter 15. There it was staring back at him, his Freshman year, written out in verbose, eloquent prose. Abbott couldn’t believe his eyes. This was the dream, wasn’t it? What everyone sought for in their lifetime. To have a clear, objective look into your past.

“He’s telling the truth,” Abbott assured Darcy. 

Darcy timidly stepped forward, almost as if she was frightened by the book. 

“Don’t worry, I’m here,” Abbott said, with a twinkle in his eye. Darcy nodded and grabbed the book from the shop owner. She knew exactly where she wanted to go, Chapter 12. She furiously flipped the pages and began reading. There it was. Her favorite memory staring back at her. The last ski trip she took with her father before he tragically passed the following year. Darcy stood there with her hand over her mouth.

“Why don’t you both take a walk and clear your head; I’ll be here if you need me,” the shop owner said.

*** Three Years Later

The bookshop owner heard the bell ring out. 

Odd, he thought, I wasn’t expecting anyone today. It must be a random drop-in.

He mustered the strength to stand and slowly made his way through the curtain divider into the main area of the shop.

“How can I he-...” the book shop owner stopped mid-sentence as he took in the sight. There they were. Two familiar faces from many years ago.

“Well hello there!” he exclaimed with delight. “You finally came back!”

Darcy and Abbott stood there, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Hello friend,” Abbott said, walking forward, holding out his hand in greeting. “We wanted to come back to explain ourselves. When we left the shop a few years ago, we actually took the rest of the day to read about our past. We laughed, we cried, but mostly we experienced mesmerizing joy. More happiness than we could ever imagine. We were able to relive the most amazing memories of our lives. You gave us the gift of time. You have no idea how much it changed our perspective on… well, everything!” Abbott exclaimed.

“But sir, we want you to know… we stopped reading ahead,” Darcy continued. “We both read up to the point of us going on our first date, and we agreed to stop.”

“Yeah, it almost felt like we would be cheating,” Abbott said. “Cheating life. Not experiencing it for all that it has to offer.” 

“We still have the books, but we haven’t opened them in years. I think we’ll do so once this little guy is born,” Darcy pointed down at her stomach. “But we have a deal together, we can only look at the past, not the future.” She stared up at her husband admiringly. 

The shop owner watched the two of them, knowing the books did exactly what they intended to. In providing them with the why, they both realized how little they actually needed it. They didn’t need to read ahead to get the answers, because they already had them. 

“When you put your faith in life, it unfolds in ways even a magical book cannot predict.”