The thing about the sun is the feeling it casts onto the world. Not just warmth but happiness and a sense that life is worth living. Yet then there are those many occasions where you just melt underneath its searing wrath. That particular Saturday I felt like a wax figurine left in a massive oven for a millennia. My parents had gone on yet another business trip despite the fact it was early June, a prime time for family vacations.
My parents led extremely dull lives in their carrear choices. Mom is an ambitious lawyer and dad is an insurance salesmen. I have never understood their dedication to work, they say "It is for justice!" Or "The safety of the people!". They have always seemed to avoid me. I'm not a bad kid, I make good grades, I have a clean track record, and I don't bring home a new boyfriend home every two days. Not that I ever had a boyfriend in my life.
I ducked my head under a low branch of the woods and slapped my side calling for Matches. Most people are normal and take half hour to an hour walks. I spend majority of my life with nature. I'm fascinated with the twirls of the branches and the flight of the leaves that slowly float down from wind blown trees. Over the years I have made a narrow path through the brambles that winds deeper and deeper into the foliage.
I was free of equations and essays, but I still felt trapped in a little cage despite the fact I have a wide variety of places to go to and experience. I wanted to do more, the only social interaction I get is with the librarian, Mrs. Kimbley, at the library I part time volunteer at. She is kind elderly woman who shares my appreciation for books, but as the years go by she is getting tired and needs help shelving the books. It has been a normal job until last Tuesday.
Tuesday night at 8:00 Pm the books layer dusty and untouched in the storage room when I entered. Annual cataloging was due to happen and I got stuck with the tedious task. Yet while being dull it is also relaxing. The light shone through the rectangular window pane reveling each individual fluff of dust that rose and fell from the shelves.
"What books need cataloging Mrs. Kimbley?" I called between short coughs.
" All of the non-fiction ones!" She answered.
So I got to work as quickly as possible before I choke on some monster dust bunny. Biographies on Albert Einstein in one pile, outdated books on geography in another. I myself have never been particularly fond of non-fiction, I prefer fantasy and Sci-Fyi. I was nearing the end of my tedious task when I discovered one lone book in the corner. It was a 6000 page compilation of the biographies of every major ruler of Earth that can be recorded. I grabbed the books edges and lifted, no budge. I tried again, nothing. After a few minutes of trying I began to get frustrated, this book was going in its proper place no matter what. I stomped my foot. Still did not budge. After maybe an hour of pushing, pulling, and heaving the mass of paper I made little progress. I glared at the old book, it didn't weigh that much.
Maybe it's stuck.
With that in mind I tried to pry the bottom with my fingers making no more progress. Before I knew it I became consumed in anger, rage, and every unpleasant thought my innocent mind could think off. That darn book! The room began to tremble in a series of small shakes. The books began falling off the shelves and the ceiling fan bounced off the walls and a single blade broke off. I knew all of these things were happening but my eyes were locked on the 6000 page book that had finally slid to the complete other side of the room. The shaking came to an abrupt halt.
Silence settled in the air like humid heat does, thick and unchanging. I looked around to find my body has made no movement at all. Before I can ponder on this for long a small disk shape had been left in a dent in the floorboards that the that monster book was covering. As I creep forward the disks features come into focus. Light gray and smooth, the color of concrete but without the texture of it. I twist the capsule and hear a soft pop. A piece of yellowed paper escapes and floats to the ground.
The ground has shaken once more reveling the truth of this message
If you wish to discover me you must follow the same path you did that early summers night two weeks ago
I have left a trail, but to follow this trail you must crack my code
The fox has leaped and the dog has slept
20, 8, 5 20, 1, 9, 14, 20, 5, 4 19, 20, 18, 5, 1, 13
~ sincerely Me
P.S. Let the quake begin!
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Tremble
Ficção CientíficaElizabeth Maine had an undoubtably dull life, except for one intriguing incident years ago. Mark Preston had ran away from home at age seven, as a classmate of Elizabeth's it meant nothing to her, until she found out where he had run off to, and how...
