Chapter 24: Corridor of Authors

"So... that means," Charlotte continued. "There are multiple authors who got pulled in before I did."

"Yes, many different authors had come before you in search of inspiration. Through the many styles of stories with different characteristics, they got to experience the 'World of Stories' like how you did," Mrs. Duchbury explained.

"Does that mean... there are also those right now going through the stories like how I am?" Charlotte asked.

"Not quite my dear. The authors have already come before you and left."

"So, what number am I on the long list of authors?"

"You, Charlotte Whitlock, are the seventh author to have opened the book."

"The seventh? I expected a long list of names before me..."

"Well, there is only one book, is there not? It can't quite multiply."

"I guess so... so how do the stories work? Are we currently in another dimension or world? I am bound to have altered the story at least slightly no? How was the story I went through originally going to play out?"

"Well, as I said, I created the story and wrote it in the book. Naturally, there should be evidence of the words originally written."

In a swift fashion, she knocked her cane on the floor and the mist inside the room cleared. The walls which are now seen were bookshelves that were filled to the brim with books of every color.

The books, as if natural, gently flew as if they were a butterfly across the room. Each of them flutters gracefully as if a real living being.

A door mysteriously appeared in front of Charlotte as the room seemed to have become smaller, the distance between the walls grew closer.

Mrs. Duchbury walked towards the door with Charlotte tailing behind and opened it.

There lies a hallway made of light that graced their presence. Charlotte's eyes filled with curiosity as she looked around the massive corridor.

The columns lined up against the walls supported the ceiling, refusing to let it down. The most notable detail that attracts the eye when they first enter was the giant portrait in the middle with quite a large pedestal holding a book.

"This is the Corridors of Authors, or at least what I call it. I didn't make this as it just existed one day. Here lie the past authors that came before you."

She then looks at Charlotte.

"It also includes their works."

"Their works? Like after they experienced your story?"

"Not only my story but also the stories of the authors before them."

"So will I also experience the stories written by them?"

"Yes, you would do the same as well."

"So how are you standing before me? You… are technically dead no?"

"Yes, I am dead. But I am not sure how I am here. My theory of how all of this works is that once I wrote something in the book, it takes a bit of my spirit and keeps it here."

"Is it the same for all authors?"

"Yes, you will meet each of them as you go through their story."

"Like how you disguised yourself in your own story?"

"And afterward as well, like what we are doing," she winked.

They walked along the red-lined carpet toward the center.

Mrs. Duchbury stopped and gestured for her to climb the stairs to reach the said pedestal.

The portrait was a portrait of Mrs. Duchbury in a refined pose, her hands gently placed on her knees. The background was the same room Charlotte was in, the bookcase filled with flying books. Each of the flying books looked a bit older despite the cover each being a different color. But the insides were all the same colored pages which all have been wrinkled throughout time.

So, Charlotte climbed each step with great anticipation. She felt like with every step she would fall back due to excitement. She reached atop the steps and read the title cover.

"The Tale of Jack the Ripper. By Mary Duchbury," Charlotte read out.

"I used my real name," Mary Duchbury smiled.

Charlotte turned the page and saw words, handwritten words. The letters were beautifully written and were much better than what Charlotte could ever write.

"You could take your time to read it later in your own space."

"My own space?"

"If I can create mine, you could as well."

Charlotte looked at her expectantly and Mary chuckled.

She turned and Charlotte took in the details of the room a bit more.

Between the pillars were actually other pedestals on display with a different book in each accompanied by a respective portrait.

Charlotte passed by many portraits and admired each person in them.

She then came across a portrait of a very familiar man.

The gaze of her teacher from the portrait directly met hers.