Bookstore Dreams [FICTION]

I inhaled deeply, letting the dust of old pages fill me up with peace. I could spend forever perusing the tomes in this old bookstore, but the tour only left me thirty minutes for lunch. Then they dropped us off where this storefront was the first thing I saw, so I decided to feast on words.

As I wandered the aisles, figuring out the proprietor’s own unique organization system, a book caught my eye. Bound in thick leather so old that it had begun to flake, the book stood half as tall as any other book on neighboring shelves. Twice as thick, the word “Dreams” had been crudely stitched along the spine. I pulled it out, hefting it in my hand. I flipped it open to a random page.

“If a married woman dreams of her first love, her husband has been unfaithful.”

I snorted at this. How many marriages had that nugget of wisdom destroyed? I turned the page.

“If an unmarried woman dreams of dreaming, she may open the doorway to her mysteries for others to peruse.”

“What does that mean?” Even as I finished muttering, I yawned deeply feeling my eyes grow weary.

Unconsciousness carried me away. My instincts acted to preserve the book, pulling it into my chest in a protective embrace. 

A whistle sounded and I leapt to my feet. Before me, rows and rows of work desks stretched across the immense room. Upon each one, an industrial sewing machine whirred busily with a hunched figure focused intently on the fabric in their hands. Every machine except the one directly in front of me. I stared at it and the somber grey fabric piled on one side.

“Grace, get to work,” the woman beside me hissed.

I turned to look at her curiously before sitting obediently and carefully feeding the top pinned item through the machine. Halfway through the piece, I snorted.

“This is ridiculous.”

Someone nearby gasped in surprise or horror and the world around me wavered again. My hands rose to cross over my chest protectively as I surveyed my new surroundings. This time, I gasped.

A scarlet sky unfolded above me until it met the creamy foam of cresting waves that crashed on golden sands dotted with tiny diamonds. A nicker turned my head toward a unicorn standing beside me. I squeaked in wonder, taking on its gilded horn and immense wings. Attracted to the sound, it danced over to me, lowering its head to look into my eyes. Silver, blue, and gold shimmered within those orbs lips fanned outward to blow hair from them.

“What brings you to my dreams?” Though soft the voice resonated through me like a thunderclap.

I could only shake my head in wonder.

“Then you aren’t ready for my book, my dear.”

I frowned and looked down to the book in my arms. As I did so, something clattered behind me on the beach. But how could something clatter on sand?

“Miss, are you okay?”

I blinked my eyes a couple of times before they focused on the tiny man leaning over me. White hair escaped from the side of his head at wild angles as he anxiously ran his hair through it with one hand. The other gently patted my shoulder as his blue eyes peered into mine.

“Um…what happened?” I asked slowly as I hoisted myself slowly to a sitting position.

“You seem to have fainted,” he offered with concern.

“Oh.” I stared back at him, wondering if he had ever met the unicorn.

At the thought, I looked down into my arms for the unusual book, but the only book there proved to be a worn copy of “A Tale of Two Cities”. As I regarded it in confusion, the old man smiled at me. His smile let me know he about the book but that we would never speak about it…

Until the unicorn deemed me worthy.

~~~

Someday, I will be an empty nester and be so lonely I finally dig deeper into some of these fabulous ideas. Just wait a couple decades and we’ll finally know.

Shut In [FICTION]

I sighed as I stepped onto the tiny elevator. My five companions nodded and scooted closer to each other to make equal distance between us. I joined the shuffle as four more of our peers entered the tiny metal bix.

“Hold the door!” A familiarly brash voice called out.

The elevator denizens exchanged looks but no one moved to block the door. Sadly, David showed off his cross country skills and slid his hand between the doors at the last second.

“Glad I made it, so I could face you all and let you see this lovely face,” he grinned.

Only Lauren smiled back, but he took no notice as he continued holding court, “Ever feel like practicing your stand up routine on these things?”

A chorus, which included me, mumbled, “Please don’t.”

“I prefer to wait until we are getting off the elevator and leave a little cloud for people to walk through,” Tony earned a high five for that contribution.

I rolled my eyes, catching more than a few sympathetic responses from the other women trapped in the elevator. As Johnny began humming “Love In An Elevator” while wiggling his eyebrows, the traveling box jolted to a stop. All the lights turned off on the panel. The overhead light dimmed yet continued to offer a soft glow.

Johnny abruptly stopped humming. His eyes widened as he choked out, “Why did we stop?”

“I’m sure we’ll start back up momentarily. In the meantime, does anyone know why a special meeting was called?”

A few people shrugged, but most remained distracted by the stillness of the elevator. Then the elevator lurched. A few sighs of relief escaped before the elevator fell a few inches. My stomach flipped around in distraction, but I managed to stay calm.

Others panicked. Kirsten and Viv latched onto each other and slunk into a weeping pile in the corner. More than one set of eyes bulged with restrained fear. David observed everything with a self-satisfied smirk, but this time he kept his commentary to himself.

Johnny lost all his normal bravado, however. At first, he emitted a low keening sound like a puppy unable to find its mother. Then he started chanting, “Get us out.”

The chant ramped up to a roar. That was when he put his legs up on the doors of the elevator and stretched his back to reach the back wall. He pushed with all his power, making grunts and groans that sounded more painful than helpful. This also made the rest of realize the minuscule dimensions of the box holding us in midair. I took a deep breath, trying to calm him down before I caught his fear.

“Security knows we’re in here. They’ll send help. Just calm down.”

“You calm down,” he pushed again making his shoes squeak against the metal doors, but having no other success.

I didn’t know what to say to that. I scanned the faces of the other passengers, but the few who weren’t having an existential crisis of their own wouldn’t meet my eyes. So I just stared into Johnny’s eyes, hoping my calm face would help. He stared back at me with frightened animal eyes. The standoff didn’t last long. The light flickered back on. 

A tinny voice poured out the speaker overhead. “We’re sorry for the inconvenience, but the elevator should be working again in a minute. Please remain calm.”

A sigh of relief spread through the tiny space. Even Johnny gave up his amateur elevator technician attempts and let himself drop to the ground, where he curled up in the fetal position and cried. Whether he was letting out the last of his fear or crying tears of joy, I wasn’t sure. And I certainly didn’t ask.

~~~

Not much story here but so many characters. Some of them may even be familiar. I have known a few Johnny’s and David’s in my time, though not by that name ;)

Living and Loving Lies [FICTION]

I cover my mouth with one hand as something brews deep down in my belly. I carefully sit down at my computer. As the dainty burp escapes without my cubicle neighbor’s notice, I use my free hand to hastily type my password. A pop up alerts me of a new email sporting the subject “Everything you know is a lie.”

I glance around the office to see if any of my coworkers is watching their prank unfold. Everyone is busy with their own interests, presumably getting all our new books ready to hit the shelves and our digital holdings appropriately linked to the online catalog. I click on the email, furrowing my brow as I read.

“Act calm as to not alert anyone, but everyone around you is not who they say they are. You need to quietly get out of there and meet me at the spot where you had your first real kiss. You know the place. My name is Mark.”

I glance at the timestamp. Five minutes ago. I survey my coworkers again, none of whom are named Mark, and find each remains oblivious to me. I tab over to the department calendar and find that both the boss and the office tattler have taken this afternoon off. I lock my screen, slip my keys and phone into my pockets, and casually walk toward the door closest to the stairs to the restroom. I glance at a few screens on my way past, surprised to find that even game-loving Jemma’s attention remains on work and work alone.

I shake my head and hurry out the back door, relieved to find no one lingering near the mailroom. I relive my first kiss as the sun caresses my face on my way down High Street. As the road ends, I turn left to head toward the old high school. High grass grows around it since the school decided that letting it go to hay in the summer season made more sense than paying someone to mow it once a week. I suppose they weren’t wrong since a local farmer quickly offered to give them ten percent of the earnings he made from bailing it and selling it to his peers right before the school year starts again each year.

A clear path runs through the summer hayfield and right toward the small stream running behind the school. I look around the empty parking lot for any clues as to who Mark really is. Nothing moves except high grass with every breath of wind. I finally decide to risk it and follow the path. That doesn’t mean I don’t turn to glance over my shoulder more than a few times just in case something suspicious catches my eye. Even in a small town, one can’t be too careful. 

As I hear the stream burbling blissfully over smooth rocks, I slow even more, listening for any other sounds. The air carries nothing unusual to my ears. I step into the clearing, cringing as a twig breaks under my bumbling foot. A tall man with broad shoulders turns to face me. While I swear I don’t know anyone quite that tall, the smattering of freckles across his nose and the blue eyes looking out at me from under a shaggy mop of red hair strike me as familiar.

“Ethan?” I gasp as his lips curl into a familiar smile.

“You were expecting someone else?”

“You signed the email Mark.”

“My middle name…” He holds up his hands as if that explains everything.

I shake my own head in confusion.

“I am a little hurt that you didn’t know it was me.”

“You expect me to remember your middle name after one kiss?”

“Well, we did got to school together for a decade before I finally snagged that kiss.” The intensity of his gaze makes me blush, but a chill dissipates the heat as he continues. “But sadly that isn’t why I needed to talk to you.”

I nod. “So your email implied. What’s going on?”

“Have you noticed anything odd lately?”

“Got a weird email today.”

He folds his arms and purses his lips, “I’m serious.”

“So am I…”

He sighs, “So your coworkers are all behaving normally?”

“Well…” I bit my lip.

He gestures encouragingly.

“Everyone seemed a little too into their work today, even the ones who like to goof off.”

He nods. “Anywhere else?”

I ponder all my interactions over the past week. “You know, people in the grocery store seemed more focused and driven…”

“Like buying groceries was an inconvenience not a necessity?”

I nod and shiver a little as the coincidence settles into my mind. He reaches out to take my hands.

“What does it mean?” I whisper.

“I don’t know. I saw you pausing to sniff some peonies this morning outside the library and realized you haven’t been affected.” His face lit up. “I knew you could help me figure this out.”

“But where do we start?”

We stare at each other for a minute then he offers me a smirk. “Aren’t you the librarian? Shouldn’t you be the research expert?”

“Okay, jerk, let’s go back to my realm,” I grab his hand and begin hiking determinedly back to the library.

“You’ll blend in perfectly like this, as long as you let go of my hand,” he mutters with a snicker.

I drop his hand and mumble a few choice words of my own, but I hear his footsteps keeping pace with mine, undeterred by unmanly giggles.

~

We slip in through the employee entrance to attract as little attention as possible. Luckily, the out-of-character behavior of my coworkers motivates them to spend as much time at their desks as possible. No one questions us as we take determined steps to sit at one of the public computers. I quickly enter my credentials and pull up the website of the local paper. Nothing leaps out at me from the headlines, but I realize that the articles seemed much shorter than usual, filled with just facts and no fluff to make them interesting to read.

Ethan and I exchange looks and dig deeper. We don’t look up until a shadow looms over us. I look up into the face of my boss. Her fake smile doesn’t reach her steely, empty eyes.

“This is a breech of your work ethic, Miss VanDyne. You will have to come with me.”

My eyes widen as they meet Ethan’s equally frightened expression.

“Bring your friend.”

“I was just leaving. Thanks.” Ethan motions for me to come with him as he stands up and steps toward the stairwell.

“It wasn’t an invitation,” my boss’s voice holds no inflection.

I start to follow Ethan, only to find a small hoard of my coworkers converging on us from every direction. “Um.”

Before I can blink, they have us solidly surrounded like bison protecting their young, except they press in close and force us to step into line behind my boss. She calmly leads us into her office and nods for the others to close the door after shoving Ethan and I inside.

“Take a seat,” she gestures at the wooden chairs before her desk, “There’s no reason for this to be uncomfortable.”

“I dunno,” my sarcasm flows despite my better judgment, “I feel pretty uncomfortable.”

Ethan laughs nervously but plops into one of the chairs at a glare over my boss’s glasses. My mouth snaps shut and I followed suit.

“So it seems you haven’t been indoctrinated yet,” she purses her lips, “We have to change that. Tea?”

We both shake our heads in the negative as she gestures to a pot steaming happily on her desk. She frowns and begins pouring tea into a couple of delicate tea cups anyway.

“Really? I find tea quite calming.”

“Never touch the stuff,” Ethan offers, “Religious reasons.”

“You don’t need religion when you have technology and reason,” she offers me a cup.

I shake my head again and push my hands under my thighs. Her eyes narrow as she holds the tea under my nose. Realization rushes in and I turn my head to avoid breathing the steam rising upward from the cup.

“If you won’t cooperate, I will have to have our friends come back in and help.”

“Maybe we would cooperate if we understood better,” I hope her response will help me find a way out of this.

She shakes her head now. “You watch too many movies. I’m not a villain who will monologue until you can escape. I am a sentient life form from outside your galaxy, who rather likes my new host.” Her eyes scan up and down my body, “And I have a friend who would be perfect for you. If you will just…”

She pauses for a second and hope nestles into my breast. Then she finishes her sentence in the shrillest tones ever to touch my ears, “Open up.”

I scream and place my hands over my ears. As I ds so, she steps forward in one swift motion and pours the tea into my mouth, letting the cup fall to the carpeted floor as she clamps a hand over my mouth. I try to fight the liquid back out of my mouth, but she refuses to loosen her grip. Once the liquid touches my throat, drowsiness overtakes me. 

“I’m sorry,” I mumble to Ethan as I slide to the floor.

~~

When I awake on the floor of my boss’s office, Ethan lies at my side. I don’t think anything of it. Getting back to work is far more important. I have work to do to make the planet a better place for my new family. I smile as a warm consciousness jiggles deep inside my belly somewhere, knowing my life had been changed for the better.

~~~

See! My June theme continues! More romance! The love between a host and its parasite is eternal—well, at least until death do them part.

No Objection [FICTION]

Did I just become a cliché? Standing in front of the altar, decked out in the most perfect white dress, I smile at my fiancé, my groom, my Barney. He smiles back. Then the preacher offers up those words that require no response.

"Should anyone here present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace."

In that moment, a scuffle erupts from the back of the room. The doors bang open and a familiar voice declares. “I object.”

My smile morphs into a snarl as I turn to face the intruder. Dressed in his version of formal wear—wrinkled slacks and an equally wrinkled polo, Tom smiles at me. His toothy grin and desperately hopeful gaze reminds me why our relationship only lasted a week. He holds out his lanky arms toward me as if I will run into them and allow him to whisk me away.

“You can’t marry anyone but me, Jennie. No one loves you like I do.” He calls out as every eye in the room turns from him to me.

After a quick glance at my face, my brothers drop the arms of their respective bridesmaids and start down the aisle toward him. Built like linebackers, they make the aisle appear narrow as they calmly approach their quarry. Tom peers between them to meet my eyes. I frown at him but know any verbal response from me will only encourage him. 

Barney reaches over to take my hand. As my attention turns to him, he mouths “Who is that?”

“A guy dated for a week, years ago,” I whisper.

My best friend snickers from her place of honor at my side. The sound gets drowned out by continued assertions that my husband doesn’t deserve me and that I will never be happy without my ex. The more Tom talks, the tighter Barney holds my hand.

Tom breaks off pleading with me to greet my brothers as they reach him. Trying to maintain some semblance of decorum, they whisper to him. He shakes his head and opens his mouth to say something more, but he swallows his words as my brothers each grab an arm and heft him back out the door.

“Jennie, I will always be waiting for you. You’ll come back to me. You’ll see.”

Silence falls as the doors close behind the trio. The rest of the congregation remains fixed on them, waiting for Tom to return and offer another free show. After what seems an eternity, my brothers return without their cargo. They smile at each pew on their way past, offering a thumbs up of reassurance to all our guests. When they reach us in front of the altar, they lean between Barney and I to address the minister.

“Don’t worry, Father, we’re good to go here.” My oldest brother winks as he delivers this reassurance.

The minister regards him with skeptical eyes before whispering timidly. “No one ever objects. What do I do when they object?”

My oldest brother shrugs, “I don’t think it matters in this case…”

My other brother clears his throat and stage whispers, “In case you are wondering how we got rid of Tom so quickly, some nice men from his psychiatric hospital were looking for him. A man who isn’t in his right mind has no right to object.”

Those closest to the altar giggle and then the news washes in a wave of whispered voices until the people in the back know what was said. Then silence reigns again and the minister calls our attention back to him. He acknowledges that an objection was raised but found invalid. Then he picks up the pace and our vows fly by. We kiss briefly before he turns us toward our friends and families and introduces us as husband and wife.

“Husband and wife.” I whisper excitedly as we grab hands and rush down the aisle.

“I lucked out. I gather I had some competition.” He whispers into my ear as our chauffeur opens the door of the limo.

“No one could compete with you.” I lean in to kiss him.

The chauffeur clears his throat to separate us long enough to help us into the car and whisk us away.

~~~

Clearly, I am on a June weddings kick. Pondering whether next year’s posts should all be teaser parts of a whole culminating in a chance to purchase the entire story. What say ye, noble readers, could I earn a few extra dollars for Christmas with my groovy writing? Or does my use of the word groovy prove that can’t happen?