Algea

Come back here you little brat!

I couldn’t let them get me again, who knows what they could do this time. No matter how strong the pain was, I had to keep going. But my legs were feeble, my breath shaky, and the fear barely controlled my movements. 

You can’t run forever!

They were right about that. However, if there’s something I learned in all these years of hardship, it’s that you only have two options: Run, or Hide. I had used up the first, so my eyes searched desperately for a place where these monsters wouldn’t dare come for me. The forest? Too big, even with the various trees I could climb, there was always the possibility of getting lost or worse, being killed by the villains on my tail. The pre-school? They would kick me out as soon as I stepped into the courtyard. The library? Perfect. A place of silence and peace, with various places to hide if you know where to look. 

Not wasting another second, my body rushed towards the modest building. Out of breath, I ran past the humongous glass door, falling on the crimson carpet as I did so. With tear-filled eyes, I looked through the glass only to see the three monsters wearing a look of frustration. This quickly shifted in an evil smile that my bones shudder with panic.

Once open hours end, you’ll be all ours…

Of course, what was I thinking? I had trapped myself in a corner, the only thing I did escape from was time. When the clock would strike six o’clock, it’d be over… And I would be nothing but a plate of dead meat. Two hours. Two hours left to spend my life… Reading. Quite the choice I was making. What other options did I have after all?

Using my hand as a tissue, I wiped the still-humid tears from my face and got up on my two feet. In front of my eyes stood a maze of dusty shelves filled with books, with no indication of genres at all to be seen. It might have been due to the weak lights on the ceiling, but it felt as if this place was a dungeon for darkness. Unsure of where to go, I wandered to the Eastern side of the surprisingly spacious room. There, in the darkest corner, a woman who I assumed was in charge was sleeping peacefully. She couldn’t have been older than thirty, with her rose plump lips and soft round nose. I hesitantly poked the palm of her hand once, twice, and a third time. Her face scrunched up as her eyes opened to reveal a deep ocean blue. She quickly adjusted herself in her seat and cleared her throat.

Hmm yes, how may I help you? 

I nervously rubbed the palms of my hands together, gathering up the courage to let the words out.

… Um… I need… a good book… please…

The woman stared at me for a few seconds, perhaps processing what I had just said. Either she wasn’t used to people actually asking her for advice or wondering what a teenager was doing in a library at 4 o’clock in the afternoon. Whatever was going in that head of her must have been resolved quite fast, as her pupils lit up with excitement and the curves of her mouth turned into a smirk. 

I might have just the thing, follow me. 

She stood up abruptly and walked swiftly past me. I followed her pace and headed towards the center of the room, turning right between two huge shelves full of books. As we progressed further into the darkness, I felt as if the room was never-ending. The books on the shelves got dustier and dustier the deeper we went. This must have been the place where the unloved novels resided, I presumed. How wrong I was.

The woman’s light steps came to a stop, crouching to reach the third row of the shelf, her fingers brushing the edge of each book before coming to a stop. Her index finger laid on a small grimoire, its sangria color faded from the time spent unused. Carefully taking it out of its place, she stood up and turned to face me. The smirk I had seen earlier was back once again as she handed me the object. With reluctance, I reached out my hand, seizing the little book out of her weak hold.

To my surprise, no title was to be found on the cover, nor the back. Before I could even open it, I felt a hand firmly gripping my shoulder. My body immediately froze, not even being able to face the woman, whose stare I could feel immensely. 

This is knowledge and power, my child. Read it, recite it, do with it as you like. Whether your intentions are good or evil, the book will cooperate. 

The pressure on my shoulder was no longer present, I turned to find nothing but darkness and the two shelves on my sides. I didn’t know what to feel between fear, confusion, or excitement. I turned my gaze back to the small red book, my hands nearly shaking as I opened it. What was in there that felt so powerful and forbidden? 

On the first page written in cursive black ink was the name Allison. I turned to the second page in confusion, but perhaps that was the author’s name. What I found was a story, barely ten pages, of a young girl named Allison. But this story didn’t speak of her life, nor of her passions and ambitions, no. Instead, it felt as if it was a story of her emotions and the power that grew as they became stronger. There was no plot line or point of reference at all, just the evolution of her emotions through detailed writing. Happiness, admiration, loathing, sadness, hate, rage. After turning to the tenth page, I frowned in confusion. The story ended abruptly on this one phrase.

The green spark grew bigger, bigger, and bigger… Until jealousy eventually drowned her.

Interestingly, jealousy was the one word I kept going back to. It was like it held some kind of deeper meaning that I couldn’t quite understand. In fact, I didn’t understand any of the story to begin with… Yet I kept reading, my eyes fixated on the pages as I progressed more into the book.

I quickly came to realize that each name written told the emotions of someone, each one more present the previous one. James. Caroline. Nora. Uvik. Trevor. And so many other names I yearned to learn from. Saliva dripped from my mouth as I read the chapters faster and faster, enticed in the magic of the words, those emotions. In each case, they had started out weak and fragile, growing into something so powerful even I could feel it without knowing these people personally. But they always ended abruptly, leaving me in a state of confusion, wondering if the next name would hold some explanation. None did.

Finally, I came upon the last page. To my surprise, there were still a large number of blank pages left. I felt disappointed, angered even, which didn’t happen often. I wanted more. For the first time in my life, I didn’t worry about the future or the monsters on my tail, all I cared for was that book. Before I could pull my own hair out in frustration, a dreadful sound brought reality back to me. 

DONG! DONG! DONG!

6 o’clock. The hour had finally come. But something felt different this time. Whereas fear was still occupying my beating heart, something else, something much stronger, had taken over. That feeling took control of my feet, legs, hips, reaching every single place in my body as it drew me back to the entrance of the library. I still held the book firmly in my right hand, and I didn’t intend to let it go any time soon. 

As I approached the glass doors, three familiar silhouettes rose up from the shadows. My legs continued moving closer and closer, until I was outside in the cold weather, the monsters only a few feet away from me. Their wicked smiles appeared once again, but I felt nothing. Nothing but anger, rage, and thrill, radiating throughout my whole body.

You won’t see the sunrise tomorrow, little brat.

As the words fell off their tongues, my grip on the book only grew stronger. I knew what I had to do. And at that moment, a small chuckle came out of my mouth. Those smiles that I had despised so much were no longer there as I whispered...

Neither will you.

The little red book suddenly flew out of my hand as I laughed louder and louder, opening to the empty pages I had wondered about only a few minutes before. They must have been screaming from what I could see on their faces, but all I heard was silence. Silence in the middle of the storm, emotions exploding in my heart, as we drowned into blank pages, leaving a neatly written name onto the first.

Algea.