1. Hellėg ghar-ambrėngen Aeņ
"....and that's the legend of the Phoenixes," Amélie explained, and plucked the book from the shelf. Whirling flames covered the front and carefully encircled the title. She stared at the mesmerizing flames, slowly following her finger along their curls and twists. She could almost feel their warmth. Towers of mahogany shelves towered around her and reached for the ceiling. Each one was filled to the brim with books of all colors. Streams of yellow light loomed in the corners and dimmed the place. The ambience was warm and cozy, as one would want it while reading.
"Impressing, you know your books well," the customer said. She handed it to him, letting him judge the book for himself. The man looked ancient; with rumpled frowned brows and grey stains of hair clambering from his head. His body was imbalanced and bent in unnatural angles, it seemed. It looked like he just woke up and crawled out of his own grave. But she didn't judge him. She didn't know how old age could drain on people as she was still a teenager herself. While he examined the book, Amèlie wandered along the many rows of bookshelves. She used her index finger and dragged it across their surface. A thin strip paved its way forward and opened up a path of faint colors. She had to wipe the dust before leaving today, she realized.
The roof wasn't high, but it felt as if it was when the bookshelves towered all the way to the ceiling. From her perspective, the shop formed a labyrinth of shelves. A hundred different routes you could choose, that lead to your next adventure. Your next reward. The ceiling was made of grey bricks and inclined at the very back, making a cozy place for the children's books. Combined with the shop's archaic design, one could easily think it was an antique. Travelers from other parts of the country often asked how old the building was, and was disappointed when she answered twelve years. One of the reasons it looked so old was because of the other buildings around. They were fossils from the past and stained by old age. Only the interior was refurbished. The town in itself was old as time, as many said, and had no official origin date. Still, it had kept its angelic ancient look.
"Excuse me, Miss," she heard a voice call. She returned her glance to the old man, who held the book above his head. She walked the few steps forward to him and spoke. "What is it, Sir?"
He looked up at her with fragile eyes and returned the book.
"You're not interested? I can assure you the book is excellent."
It took a long time before he answered. His eyes grew distant and his movements slow. She guessed he was in a thinking space and was evaluating his options. He was the kind of person that didn't think twice about decisions, but four or five times "just to be sure". She herself wasn't like that at all, but she understood how a man of that age would want to be sure of his decisions. With a quick glance, she saw the man still thinking. She happened to know that the man was the town's tsundoku, collecting books in piles and piles along the walls. Especially books no one had ever heard of, or as he called them: extremely rare fragments of truths. Amèlie leaned in closer to him.
"This is a rather rare book, only sold in some parts of the country. I have never heard of anyone else owning this particular book," she said. His face lit up, and he let out a snort-like sound. She had peaked his interest, and the rest was for Earth to decide. She waited for a reaction. Her whole life was based on patience, she knew. The future was determined, but one could only wonder when one's destiny would come true. The world was unpredictable. The man didn't answer, so Amélie needed to spice things up.
"You want to know the best thing?", she said. "The author is still unknown." Slowly, the man realized what that meant. His eyes grew wide, and Amélie was sure she could hear his jaw crunch as he got ready to speak. His reaction came slowly and his thoughts grinded in his mind. Aside from the crunching bones in the old man's jaw, her technique worked wonders. It seemed that her words made him stronger in his decision. His interest had now come to the top of the mountain, and he was ready to jump into the unknown. He opened his mouth to talk, and out came a raspy voice. "How much for it?" Amélie didn't even have to look at the price tag, and answered right away.
"It's 300."
She talked with confidence in her voice, hoping to lend some over to him.
"300-," the man uttered.
"It's a bargain, really. As far as I know, we're one of the only stores with this book in place. And every other place," she leaned in closer again. "...adds a zero or two."
His eyes popped wide, and he started rummaging through his pockets in a battle against his wallet. The wallet lost, and Amèlie led the way to the counter with the man following behind. Money went on the counter, and the shop was to live for another day. As the man wandered out of the store, she heard him mumble to himself. She couldn't hear full sentences, but was sure she heard "author" and "mystery". Another successful buy, she thought, and smiled.
When the man was out of sight, she wandered to the east corner at the very back. Thursdays were normally quiet days and she used to have a lot of alone time. She always roamed the bookstore consumed by her own thoughts, placing books in their right place and wiping dust. Sometimes when she had nothing to do, she would sit in the corner and read a book in comfortable silence. The warm lights made it pleasant to read. Even if someone would come into the store, the bell over the door would make sure she knew and didn't leave them without service. It was the perfect job after an exhausting day at high school. On the shelf in front of her, a paper segment was taped with the words "history books" right beside the section of "archeological excavations". She seeked through them both and found a book completely covered in grey. She pulled it out. One lonely flame reached for the title, and made the letters half-burned. She glanced at the title of the book: The Library of Alexandria - burned to the ground. A creeping pride wandered upwards her neck, causing goosebumps. The fires were a great reminder of the superior things her ancestors did before her. She opened the first page. The parchment was gilded in the corners and dark fractures spread like cracked ice along the sides. As she stroke her finger over the paper, she realized how rough it was. It was uneven in the corners, as if not cut by a machine, but made by hand. This book must be ancient, she thought.
She took the book along on her wander. If she wasn't going to read it herself, maybe Kayden would like it. She put it in her bag. She continued her walk from the west corner on the lookout for fugitive books. She found one here and there and put them back in their right place. Her pace was slow, as she needed to watch carefully for any books not belonging. She read the titles and connected them to the section they were placed. Did they fit? Were they misplaced? Then she read the names of the authors and checked if they were displayed in alphabetical order. It wasn't hard work, it wasn't complicated, and she loved it. The whole atmosphere in the store, warm and welcome, and the people coming to buy the books. People who loved reading just as much as her. It was all so perfect. Almost too perfect, she sometimes thought.
She noticed another book sticking out from its bookshelf, on the edge of escaping captivity. As she reached out to it, gravity pulled it down from her fingertips. The book hit the floor with a bang. It opened like a pair of wings, and showed Amélie its insides. Elegant loops connected the letters like thread. It was beautiful. She lifted the book and placed it back on the shelf. The time differences between the books was quite amazing. In this end of the shop, unique prehistoric books had their place. Books from different eras in human history, the oldest in the shop from 1308. They were often clothed in brown leather, marked only by a gold edge. The edges of the paper were gilded, and the letters were tangled together. These books were telling the many stories of deceased people from the past, presenting different perspectives on various topics. This was her favourite section. Not all books were even displayed in English. Some were filled with Old English and a few Norse words, representing the world's earlier communication between civilizations. Amélie had learned a whole lot of unique words from reading them in her spare time. In the east section were handbooks for cooking, knitting and animal care, as well as handbooks for making handbooks. They were made with bright colors and happy faces. Most of them were using way too many advertising techniques. In the far back, children's books were placed along with a few toys. Two white tables pointing opposite of each other were filled with blocks for children to play with. Most children built animals or random shapes, but some were extraordinary talented and made complicated builds. A few teddy bears also laid on the floor beside them. This made families of children walk past a whole bunch of books which had the chance to tingle their curiosity and make them stay at least a little bit longer.
When Amélie first came to town, she admired the old buildings the past had left. She felt a magnetism towards the antique shop, and all the older buildings in town. She had always been fascinated by the past, as most members of her family. After they permanently moved here, she visited the shop every day. There was something magical about its silence that brought back pleasant memories. Smells from her past was unlocked, smells from other parts of the world. Lyon, Bristol, Firenze - each of them with their unique prehistoric relics and people. Every day after school, especially after the town library closed, she used her time at the shop to read. It was relaxing and reminded her of home. After a while the owner of the shop, her current supervisor, offered her a job there. She willingly accepted. As of today, she had worked there almost five years. Longer than she ever had lived without moving.
A shadow passed the door, and she saw her supervisor walk out of her office. She was surprised as that meant the store was about to close. She walked towards her boss, Eudora Sheen. She was a small, grey-haired woman with a friendly face. Her thick hair curled itself at the nape of her neck, and her dusty eyes were wise. She was a good-hearted woman, wishing the very best for every human being. Amèlie had only seen her yelling once, and that was when a drunk man came in and attempted to seduce her. Otherwise she would politely escort the trespassers out.
Eudora was everything Amèlie wasn't. For every bad side of Amélie, Eudora had the exact opposite. For every negative, Eudora had the positive equivalent. How did she manage to keep her cool while customers yelled her in the face? Amèlie would never know. It was like an inner fire exploded in her when someone harassed her authority. This had cursed many days of her life and blackened pleasant memories. Many years ago, when she so naively thought she was purely goodhearted, she helped a lonely man. His problems were one too many, and he wouldn't have lasted many more days. However, it backfired spectacularly and gave the person some very long, difficult years to live. After that, she never once used her gift again, and she still felt extremely guilty for destroying his life.
"Is it this time of year again?" Amèlie asked as she got up to her boss. She looked at Eudora with curious eyes as she plucked a book from the floor and placed it on the bottom shelf. She had noticed her traveler-hat, a white brim hat with a grey ribbon. Eudora looked more anxious than normal, probably because she wasn't finished packing yet.
"Yes," Eudora said.
She was a woman of few words and only spoke when necessary. Sometimes one had to force a conversation with her. She was also the reason hundreds of ancient books weren't crumbling into a million pieces, left alone in an abandoned building. Many would call her a hero.
When the library in town closed, the books were collecting dust in piles and piles all around the library. The building started to succumb to the heavy rain and degradation. No one knew what to do with the books, as they were no longer in good condition. Eudora offered to take them all, and as they had nowhere else to keep them, they willingly gave them to her. After years she had made a successful bookstore and gave the books a purpose. Of course, some books were just wet paper and were now returned to earth, but most were not hard to save. They got a new purpose, just like the phoenix that rises from its ashes.
Eudora looked at Amélie and said: "You're free tomorrow."
Eudora normally went on her vacation on Thursdays, so this was no surprise for Amélie. But her vacation varied in length, and she wondered how long the shop would be closed for now. How long she would have no job after school to escape to.
"When will you come back?" she asked.
"That's not for you to worry about, darling," Eudora immediately answered. Amèlie frowned at her supervisor.
"So you're closing the shop already?" Amèlie watched the clock above the doorway as the second hand ticked its way along the numbers. It was mesmerizing in a way that she couldn't take her eyes off. "You could keep it open some more hours and see if we could earn some extra money."
Amélie doubted that there would come any more customers today, but she still asked. Those extra hours could calm down her inner demons.
It looked like Eudora was consumed by her own thoughts. Her furrows were deeper than usual, her eyes more overshadowed than ever, and her skin was pale. She continued to brush dust off a brown book, even when there was nothing left, and her hands were trembling. For a woman this old, trembling hands were usual, but Eudora was healthy for her age. She would never tremble and let alone look this… worried? She re-collected herself and looked up at Amèlie as she acknowledged her voice.
"I'm going away for a while this time."
"You look worried, what's wrong?" Amèlie asked. Eudora appeared confused for a second before answering.
"Oh, nothing darling," she said and smiled. "I have a plane to catch, but I wonder if I will not make it after all."
Seen as the nearest airport was three hours away, this was a valid answer. One had to plan the travel to the letter. Although there weren't many from the town that left, it made complications for archeologists and geologists. Through the years Amèlie had met numerous curious researchers standing on her doorstep. People in awe of the preserved buildings throughout the town, people wanting to take samples of it. But as always her mother scared them away.
"Well, then I need to help you catch it."
The airport Eudora talked about was located in Winstead City, northeast of the town. Numerous tourists wanted to see the relics for themselves, and crowds of people pumped out of the many planes from Winstead once a year. Every one of them was willing to sacrifice three hours driving. The town was filled with big crowds, ice cream and laughter. Luckily the tourist season didn't last long and the stillness of the wild was preserved most of the year.
"You're not taking your car?" Amèlie asked. Eudoras car was bright red, and everyone in town knew her by that. She had always suspected that there was an emotional connection between Eudora and her car. Some old memories tucked deep away in her mind that made her hold onto that wreckage. But that was maybe what kept old people alive, something to hold onto from their past. To have something to keep their memories alive.
"I can't drive where i will be going this time," Eudora stated. Her hair flew like a tutu skirt when she swung her head towards Amèlie. A dance of emotions rolled forward. Her eyes produced an intricate display of different feelings; thoughtfulness, stress and guilt. Her mouth swung in the motions of samba, unsure of which feelings were real or not. Her eyebrows followed both her mouth and eyes, and conveyed different kinds of impossible paradoxes. She ended the dance with a slanted smile.
"You'll see."
"Ooh, are you going to America? Or Australia?"
Amélie had been to both places herself, and was excited to share her experiences. Either if it was the steep hills of the Rocky Mountains, or the red sunset of Sydney, she was ready to share. Sending Christmas cards portraying kangaroos dragging Santa's sled, or having a chill night on the 27th floor of a skyscraper. She knew it all. That was one of the many good things of being the daughter of a traveling family.
"No, somewhere better." she said and winked.
Amèlie knew that Eudora wasn't going to reveal her plans this time, and she stopped asking. She would know where she went anyway when she came back home with pictures.
Of what Aurèlie knew, Eudora had visited many popular tourist destinations on these trips. She had more or less been to every country on earth. Still, she always came back home. What was holding her here? Amélie didn't know. She could understand her connections here, as her family lived here. But sadly, they had all passed. Maybe the memories of them kept her here and glued her to the town. Or maybe it was the traditions, the times where she could flee to the better reality of the past.
"So you're not coming to the festival?"
Eudora glanced confused at her before remembering it. "You know, with all the dancing and singing, I wouldn't fit in," she smiled as they walked beside each other. The festival was a yearly happening in their town. Every year, they celebrated the courage and willpower of the first settlers in town. Only the inhabitants and the occasional tourists knew about it. It was not much talked about in other parts of the country.
"Yeah, the sight of a dancing old lady is disastrous," Amélie laughed and rolled her eyes. Eudora conjoined in Amélies laughter.
Then she smiled at her. Eudora often reminded Amélie of the wonders of the world. But Amèlie had had enough exploration for ten life-times. Eudora's smile vanished as she looked towards the clock.
"Come on, let's get the store cleaned fast then," Amèlie said with an oblique smile. She opened the drawer behind Eudora's counter and found a spray and a small cloth. She gathered her hair in a braid along her back, and began. It was time to wash the windows. In the other end of the shop, Eudora had found a broom and was working consistently sweeping backwards. Eudora gave her a kind-hearted smile when their eyes locked. "At the speed of light," Amèlie said and raised her cloth from where she stood. "At the speed of light," the faint voice of Eudora answered from the other side.
<<>>
Eventually they met in the middle. Amèlie was done with the windows and had begun cleaning the floor with soap. She was almost done. Eudora squatted in the middle of the room and gathered dirt in a small container. Darkness came sooner this time of year and dawn was approaching. The orange streetlights shimmered more distinctly in rays upon the floor and the sun glimmered in red tones. The sky had taken the color of purple.
"Are you looking forward to your trip?" Amélie asked as she put away the water bucket. Eudora stayed silent while gathering the rest of the dirt.
"As always." Amélie stopped what she was doing and lifted her eyebrow. "That's all?" Eudora smiled at her.
"You'll see pictures when I get back. I'm not going to say anymore." Eudora explained and looked at the wall behind the counter. There were empty spaces in between the other pictures hanging there. Each of them was a reminder of Eudora's travels, and a goal she yearned to embrace yet again. She could count at least fifteen pictures, which meant fifteen, and maybe more, vacations fulfilled. Amélie guessed these pictures reminded Eudora of patience. A reminder that she'll get another vacation if she gets through another year. A reward, maybe.
She went for the light switch for the main room, and Amélie followed. She hooked her coat loose from the wall and folded it over her arm, ready to leave the building. She sat down on the table while Eudora got the trash bag and knotted it together. There was nothing left for her to do. Her hand brushed against something solid sticking out of her bag and she noticed a book. Her eyes widened as she remembered.
"Oh, Eudora, I forgot!" Amèlie exclaimed and approached her. "Could I borrow this book for my friend?" she said and showed her 'The Library of Alexandria' with its blue-grey cover. Eudora peeked out from the bookshelf and looked over at her. She leaned both hands on her broom with an indifferent facial expression. Her eyes analyzed its cover.
"He has a thing for history and archeology, and the school library doesn't really give him the satisfaction." Amélie tilted her head and smiled shyly.
"For Kayden?," Eudora asked and looked Amèlie in her eyes. "He's a good boy," she whispered under her breath. "Of course Amélie, but make sure it's back in the store before me." she said with a wink and put away her broom.
Something suddenly tickled Amélie's nose and she brushed her arm against it. A red strip wandered down her hand, and one drop spilled on the floor. Blood. She hastily laid the book back in the bag along with her jacket. She ran towards the bathroom. The blood continued to drip in thick motions toward the floor. Her sight became slightly blurry, but she blinked away the tears. She stood by the sink and grabbed it as she was about to fall. A distant ringing sounded in her head. Her knees felt like cooked spaghetti, and her brain was porridge.
Her ears were stuffed with cotton, blocking most sounds, and her eyes failed her drastically. Everything was blackened. Still, she was sure she saw a brief blink of a boy in the room, only for half a second. Was something wrong with her mind? Was it her past actions rushing forward to punish her already? She wasn't ready yet. A pair of arms grabbed her, and a voice echoed in her head. Her hair was gently stroked away from her face with rough fingers, and put away. But she didn't see anything. A long ponytail now stretched along her back.
"You don't look so good."
Was that her own voice speaking? Or did she hear the echo of her own thoughts? "I was right." The voice was deep, fractured, and not recognizable. Something was stuffed into her hands, something rough and dry. She stuffed paper up her nose until there was no more. All that was left was an empty toilet roll on the checkered floor.
Her dizziness vanished, her sight was cleared and the dripping stopped, as if it never even happened. She could stand steady as her knees got their natural strength back. She touched her nose, but the blood had dried. How long was she gone for? She took a quick look in the mirror, but forgot that it was broken and thrown away. She heard the door rattle and realized Eudora had to catch her flight. Her love for Eudora took over her will to remove the blood, and she left the room. She could wash her face when she came home, right?
She saw Eudora hustling through the corridors while she checked the placement of the books, still with the trash bag in her hand. When she felt satisfied, she went for her jacket and keys that laid on the counter. The dark window behind it, leading to the office, indicated that Eudora had already cleaned and shut off the lights in there. Amélie helped clear the room for supplements and the store was ready to close.
"Are you okay?" Eudora asked as she approached her from behind a bookshelf with a suitcase in her hands. Amèlie turned off the lights in the bathroom and looked at Eudora.
"I'm fine."
She checked the clock, and not even a minute had passed. Weird.
"You're bleeding," Eudora said.
"It's just a small nose-bleed. Come on, let's close the shop. You have a flight to catch," Amèlie answered. Eudora didn't seem too worried, and she did as Amèlie said.
The lights were shut off, and the street lights looked stronger through the big windows. Just as she walked to the door, Amèlie said: "You know, you're missing a big opportunity of watching me play." She held the door open for Eudora to come out too.
"I'm sure I'd do. But even though I'm not coming, I wouldn't want you to miss it." They smiled at each other like a grandmother looks at her granddaughter. Eudora locked the door behind them.
"You're sure you want to go on your mysterious vacation instead of staying here?" Eudora looked determined at Amélie. Her facial expression was hard, like a parent preparing to teach her child a lesson.
"I have lived here many decades, Amèlie. I have had my fun." Amélie looked melancholy at her and smiled a sad smile. Eudora handed the key over to Amélie.
"In case you ever need a place to hide," Eudora said, as she knew her mother could be distant. "Thanks."
With that, Amélie and Eudora said their goodbyes and went each their way. Eudoras footsteps could be heard for a while on the dense footwalk, and they gave Amèlie comfort on her walk back home. Before Amélie turned around a corner, she glanced one last time at the abandoned shop. It looked smaller from this distance, but she could still read the sign above. "A new chapter" as the store was called, was exactly the words she needed. It's what the store gave her. A new chapter, a new meaning in life.
The insides of the shop looked haunted in the lack of light. Bathed in darkness, every bookshelf looked tall and threatening, almost like they were watchdogs haunting and protecting the shop. The paintings on the walls were pale and creepy, staring into the never-ending blackness. Their eyes were empty shells of their usual color, like cooked white beans. Amèlie shrugged her goosebumps away, and continued to walk. She cautiously linered her finger above her nose, where she could feel dried blood from before. There was more dried blood than before. Nosebleeds came and went, but dizziness rarely followed.
Had she been about to faint? She followed the new strip of blood all the way up to the corner of her eye. When people fainted, they could be dizzy, nauseous or pale, but they didn't randomly bleed from their eyes. It was no wonder she briefly lost her sight then. Something was not right. Something was seriously off. Her goosebumps were back, but now she had no control over them. A shudder took place in her spinal marrow, and wouldn't go away. She unwillingly began to shake as she walked, slowly realising something was wrong with her. She had known this for a long time, but that she was this cursed? It would never even have come to her mind.
The darkness covered everything now, as the sun had set. Shadows had faced out and smudged into the thick darkness where there were no lamp posts. She crouched down in the middle of the footwalk. She couldn't bear all these feelings. Her legs were shivering and her neck was covered in goosebumps that made her whole body ice cold. She put her arms around her head, protecting herself like an animal. There was a hollow emptiness surrounding her, and no other person was around. She wanted to scream her pain away, but her feelings were suddenly replaced with an eerie indifference.
She rose to her feet. One sentence was stuck in her head, fastened like glue on paper, and she couldn't get rid of it. Three ghostly words sending shivers down her spine as she walked back home;
sacred blood-filled eyes.