Library of the Abyss

Dane Recaido (11) | STAFF REPORTER

In one moment, my feet were firmly planted over freshly-cleaned hardwood floors and the next, a dusty outline of a window appeared below my feet and pulled me down. My hands stretched out, trying to grasp onto a ledge or even a crevice. But my body twisted and tumbled, seeming to bump into every invisible force in the abyss of blue that resembled the depths of the ocean. 

My eyes squinted while a scream pierced my throat. Dread pulsed within my mind as the falling sensation of riding a roller coaster slammed into me. Below me, small flickers of light illuminated a marbled tiled floor just beyond the abyss.

Suddenly, my surroundings erupted into a roaring blast of movement as a tendril of water propelled out and curled around me. The water moved with fluid grace, enveloping me with a numbingly cold sensation. 

My face was inches from hitting the solid ground before I was tugged back by the water and landed gently onto the ground. The room was musty and unnerving silence greeted me before rows upon rows of bookshelves flashed into existence, driving the misty abyss away. 

There were dozens of dark wooden shelves with intricate carvings that stored worn leather books. The books held no trace of dust and were lined neatly with silver stitching and glossy covers. Oddly, they were alphabetically organized with names of people engraved in looped letters.

My shoulders stiffened when I spotted a book with my name on it. 

Cautiously, my shaky hands peeled open the book as they encountered smooth pages that were depicted in delicate strokes of paint. My fingers flipped through each page as terror engulfed me when each page held a picture of me

Pictures of me that originated all the way to my childhood and the most recent one caused me to stagger back. 

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It was me standing on the wooden floor, moments before the ground had opened up beneath me. The defined strokes of artwork taunted me as I witnessed my whole life painted in some sort of eerie photo album.

All at once, the ground rumbled beneath my feet. Tiny tremors soon transformed into full-fledged shaking as the towering bookshelves rocked back and forth on unsteady ground. 

My fingers gripped the book tightly as I watched in horror as water burst through the floor and the tendrils of water from earlier reappeared and slammed into the toppling shelves. 

I dropped my book in surprise when water pooled around my ankles as it slowly rose. Panic seized my throat but I paused as the book flung open as the pages turned until it reached the page I had been on before.

Except, a new page was added.

It was a painting of me. I was standing in the midst of broken bookshelves and fluttering pages while water trickled down in swirling strokes of blue. 

It was the scene I was in now. 

The water churned in rapid movement, engulfing the room in murky darkness as water crept up to my shoulders. But in the midst of it all, my book hovered threateningly above me as if trying to give me a foretold warning.

And then the page flipped over again. This time it was blank.