The Scholar of Time

Chapter 1

It's a beautiful day for another book signing. The sun is out, a lovely breeze gracing the world, and the sky is an exquisite shade of blue. When days start like this it's like nature's way of telling you it's going to be a wonderful day. It would be such a shame to not take a minute to enjoy this weather. I quickly learned that after living in Seattle for a few weeks sunshine is more of a phenomenon than a natural occurrence. I check my wristwatch to see if I have any extra time to spend enjoying the fresh breeze and sunlight. 12:13 pm. I sigh. I only have two minutes before my book signing. I stare up at the sky.

"Maybe another time," I say with a small smile. I continue walking until I see a sign that says "Blue Willows Books & Nick Nacks". This should be the place.

I open the door to a series of gasps and squeals from a group of girls seated in folding chairs. I scan the room. The bookshop is a small place filled with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves packed to the brim with an assortment of items ranging from books to antiques to some very disturbing dolls. After making eye contact with one of the dolls for too long, I divert my attention to the group in front of me. About 15 women in total. One of the ladies, a middle-aged woman with hair that is slightly graying, walks over to me and offers her hand.

"Mr. Oslen it's so lovely to finally meet you, I'm May," she says in a high-pitched voice with a west coast accent. "Thank you so much for taking the time out of your busy day to come to our little shop today."

I offer her a warm smile. "I'm happy to be here. It's always a pleasure to meet my readers." Everyone beams at my words. I always find it odd how readers latch on to the words of writers, hungry for more.

"Since you're here, well go ahead and get started with the signing. You can sit up there in that chair," she says gesturing to a tall cushioned armchair seated by a window and table piled with copies of my newest release, The Light We Search For.

"Great," I say, walking over to get situated. "Feel free to ask any questions when it's your turn. I don't have any plans today so I'm happy to stay and chat with you all for a bit," I say to the group. They all smile excitedly as I sink into the plush chair. Grabbing a Sharpie from the table I say "Alright, who's first in line?"
A young girl walks up nervously clutching a copy of Lost in Eternity, one of my earlier novels published under my current pseudonym. She smiles shyly as she places the book on the table.

"Hi, thank you so much for coming today," she says in a mousey voice. "I enjoy your books. The concepts are so interesting and thought-provoking. How do you come up with this stuff?"

What I want to say: Living for 983 years gives you a lot of time to ponder the existence of humans and the meaning of life so much so that it can almost drive you insane. It's like walking on a tightrope. If you lean too much in a certain direction you can fall into the abyss. You constantly have to catch yourself when you begin to lean too far this way or too far that way. But the mind must be fed and kept entertained with new knowledge and ideas. So, you choose to ponder safe topics. Topics that won't cause you to lean towards the void. Topics that are easy to write about. Topics that won't cause too many people to question you.

What I actually say: Meditation helps refine your ideas and the occasional shower thought helps as well.

I add that last bit for some charisma factor. It's key to make people think you're in charge of the conversation and you can't do that without having charisma. I open the cover of the book and glance at the sticky note where the name Taryn is written in pink Sharpie.

"You have a lovely name. Irish names always have such a beautiful flare to them."

A bright red blush covers her face and ears. "Thank you," she says timidly. "I'm not very Irish, I'm fairly sure my parents just got it from one of those baby name websites."