Consequences of a Past life

Chapter 1

The smell of dust and books fills my nose as I enter the room. The library has been in disrepair for years, but that doesn't negate that the building's a relic of this town's history. I pick up a book, sending a cloud of dust flying through the room. I dust off the cover of the novel with my sleeve. Understanding loss. I flip through the molding, unread pages. The last time stamp dates almost 30 years ago. August 17, 2025. I shut the book, inhaling the smell of empty promises and dust. The silence is loud. It has so much to say, books on shelves, begging to be read. I don't know why I came here, I suppose it was to escape the hassle. Not the hassle of people, I like people! Not that I see that many of them. But-I guess I wanted to escape the hassle of having to keep up with everything. I guess. That sounds nihilistic. I'm not, for the record.

I tug on a lamp cord that I don't expect to have any power, but with two pulls, warm, yellow light fills a small corner of the vast expanse of nothingness that is the library. I think, for a second, that I feel something inside me sparkle. Books are everywhere. I mean, It is a library, I would expect so, but there are so many! I grin. What else is there to do? I'm here, in this place, that has so much forgotten information. Sprinting, I make my way to the fiction section. I settle in a large arm chair, my glasses crooked on my nose, eyes peering surreptitiously at the book. This doesn't feel allowed. I was never permitted to read these kinds of books when I was younger, my parents told me that fiction wasn't going to help me make my way in a completely dismantled world. I roll over, engrossed in a world only just discovered.

✤ ✤ ✤

I look up from my book. Who knows how long it's been? It's not like there's a clock here, which seems strange for a library that's been left almost completely untouched. I yawn, and take another dazed look at the library, stars dancing in my eyes. This place feels as if time froze, right before the virus caught. It's a look into a world where the only worries were taxes and mean co workers, but I suppose I'm romanticizing it. There were very real worries, like the patriarchy, and Elon Musk. But for now, I'm here. I'm in this almost magical place, and it's all for me.

I look back down at the book I had taken. I was so frantic, I didn't get a chance to look at the cover. An intricate design of a scorching red eye, shrouded in a circle of black. Words inked in red that I can't quite make out lined the perimeter of the black circle, and a golden ring facing gem-down above it. The Fellowship of the Ring, J. R. R. Tolkien. A good read, in most respects. Although It does feel as though I'm missing some piece of the puzzle. Yet, isn't that the case most times? I wasn't unlucky enough to have been born when the virus surfaced, nor for when It was in its prime, plaguing every walk of life. I was born during the aftermath, having to deal with consequences of a problem that was never fully explained to me.

"Frodo Baggins, you never cease to amaze me. Your dipshitterey, I mean." I shudder runs down my back. That makes me sound like I'm some brown haired-chick in a Rom-Com that constantly deep-fries her voice. I'm not even a girl, and I still get weird about that. 

My voice rings through a silence that I only just now realized was unstintingly quiet. The echoes almost mimic another voice. But not quite. I can still recognize the high, pre-pubescent voice of mine that still haunts me even years after growing 1 foot in the span of 7 and a half months. I sigh, dragging my hand through the too-long hair that my mother always frowned upon.

"We have to get it cut, people in the commune are going to think you're a girl."

I sighed. "Mom, we've been over this. I'm fourteen. I'll do what I want with my hair." Her brow furrowed in that way that always let me know that I was in for a stern talking-to.

"You know I'm right, Tobias. You've already got the mannerisms. I don't like that you're constantly set on opposing me." I pursed my lips. I always left the room when she got like this. Demanding. Rude. It wasn't her place to dictate my appearance. Or my behavior.

But that was, well, ages ago. What, ten years? I don't live in the commune anymore. My mother is long gone, both my parents are. Thinking about her reminds me to take a breath. The silence is good. Better than constant ridicule. That sounds cringe. God, there isn't even anyone here with me, and I still worry about what I look like in others eyes. I always have. I mean, the way I was raised, I was taught to be tough as nails. If I was anything short of that, I was a pansy. I was just like, what the fuck? It's not the nineteen sixties? And even if I do like men, that is not a bad thing! Can't I just be a guy with shoulder length hair and glasses that likes reading and men? Not in my mothers eyes. Never.

Anyway, it feels good to rest in a place where I'm not constantly being parodied. It feels good to be in a place where the silence is there to comfort me, instead of acting as an awkward pause when I say something gay.

✤ ✤ ✤

I close The Fellowship, letting out a disgruntled noise that the library isn't completely sure how to echo. Without the voices of Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippen playing on repeat in my head, I realize it's raining. Hard. I sigh. I check the back cover of the book. There are two sequels. I stretch, groaning.

As I walk back to the Fiction section, I admire the carefully crafted designs in the staircase railing. It must have been beautiful. Dark wood, Mahogany, I think. The glaze is deteriorating, and, like most things in this library, the railing is absolutely covered in dust. It could be flourishing and elegant, if only someone took the time to care for it, instead of leaving it to rot and break. Sounds familiar.

I get to the Fiction section, looking for the sequel to The Fellowship.

"Two Towers, Two Towers... Oh! There it is." I slip the book out of the case, cradling it gently. It looks older than some of the others. "You best not disappoint me." I tell the book sternly. I sit down in the same armchair, and open the book. "This book is largely concerned with Hobbits, and from its pages a reader may discover much of their character and a little of their history..."