A Shore of Corpses

Chapter One.

As I stepped into the library, a bell rung softly to alert the clerk someone had entered the store. I waved a polite hello to the librarian behind the desk, continuing onwards.

The library was small, as was many of the stores in town. With a circle desk infront of the door so you face it when you enter, and long shelves behind it sorted into aisles with a sign on each of the shelves to tell you what genre that bookshelf contained.

Some small stairs led up to a loft, where more shelves were positioned. However, there was one bookshelf missing, leaving space for several sofas and armchairs.

Positioned in those chairs were my three best friends.

Lilian had chosen a red, slightly shaggy and worn down armchair. Her short blonde hair was pulled away from her face in an even shorter ponytail. Her iconic thin framed silver glasses in her hand as her bright blue eyes squinted, attempted to clean them with her blue dress with tiny white polka dots.

Mark was lying down across a green sofa, it's colour dim and faded over years of use. He was deep in chat with Samuel, his dark brown hair curly as ever. Mark's dark hazel eyes were peculiarly lighter than his hair, an odd contrast but one that was familiar nonetheless. He had freckles, cast across his face like stars as he fixed the crinkles in his freshly ironed plaid blue shirt and dark leather brown pants.

Finally Samuel, his black hair soft and bangs across his forehead. His blue eyes were striking and kind as he laughed at something Mark was muttered. His pale skin and dark clothes were a familiar contrast, as he tended to gravitate towards darker colours.

I called out a friendly hello as I got closer, keeping my voice low enough that Miss Smith, the librarian on the ground level, wouldn't shush me from below the loft.

Samuel glanced up, turning his beaming smile and dimples to me as he waved cheerfully.

I took a seat down in the beanbag between Samuel's beanbag and Mark's dim green sofa.

On the table was a plate with some banana loaf Lilian's mother had baked for us. I reached out and took a slice before turning to Mark.

"Hey, I brought that book you asked to borrow." I spoke up casually, holding out the book with its ragged leather cover and dark, bold title. 'An Adventure to The Future.' I hadn't read it yet, but he seemed to have read the first book and this was the only copy of the second book he could find anywhere. Something told me he had only told me that because he didn't want to pay for it when he could borrow it from a friend.

"Oh!" Mark glanced up from his grumbling task of un-wrinkling his clothes with a surprised glance. Then he took the book from my hand and smiled subtly. "Thanks, Sophie."

"No problem." I replied, taking a bite of the banana loaf slice. It was delicious, not surprising, since it was Lilian's mother as the chef.

"Did anyone hear about Mr. Clark?" Lilian's soft, gentle voice spoke up, quiet as ever.

"Mr. Clark?" Samuel asked.

"Isn't he the locksmith across the road from the flower shop down the road?" I asked, taking another bite of my loaf, now with a skeptical raised eyebrow.

"Yeah." Lilian replied. "But did you hear what happened to him?"

I shook my head, and I heard Mark mumble a 'no' as he lamented a wrinkle of his shoulder.

"He..." Lilian paused, lowering her voice and leaning closer towards the rest of us as she glanced over her shoulder to make sure nobody was within earshot. The closest person, and only other person in the shop besides us and the librarian, was an elderly woman.

"... caught that sickness." She finished.

"We aren't supposed to talk about that." Mark warned, flicking Lilian's ear.

Lilian held in a stifled shriek, shooting Mark a glare that screamed 'why the hell did you do that?'

But then Lilian just rolled her eyes and shrugged. "So? Something up with this sickness. That's why I asked up to meet here."

"Because you wanted to tell us the socially inept locksmith died of some cold?" Mark sighed.

"No, because it wasn't just a cold." Lilian stated, producing a folded piece of paper out from under the table.

"Where do you..." I started, wondering where she'd whipped it out from, but decided I knew better than to ask her that question, afraid I wouldn't like the answer. "Never mind. What is that?"

"A letter." Lilian replied proudly. "From around a century ago."

"A century?" Samuel gasped, "Lilian what the hell are you doing with a letter fro-"

But Lilian cut him off. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. It's a document more than a letter. You'll want to hear what it recounts."

"Fine." Samuel sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he leaned back, defeated. He knew better than to argue with Lilian with something to frivolous. "Just tell us, Lilian."

"If you insist." Lilian replied, with a cheeky, mischievous grin. "It documents..." she drummed her fingers on the table dramatically as Mark groaned, irritated. "... a sickness."

"Wow." I replied sarcastically. "That's amazing, Lilian, like people don't get sick every other week because of the cold sea breeze."

Lilian rolled her eyes. "It's not just any old sickness. It's that one we were all told about as kids."

"The Corruption?" Mark asked, suddenly leaning forward, invested in the conversation. "No way, you can't be telling me Mr. Clark caught..."

"Same symptoms, same death, same circumstances." Lilian grimaced. "I think we have a right to be worried."

"But..." I started, feeling presentiment bubbling up in my chest. "That sickness can't reach us here. Our ancestors found us place where we're safe from it."

"Apparently we're not so safe." Lilian shrugged.

"No sh-" Mark was about to say, before Samuel slapped him.

"Language, Mark." Samuel hissed. A warning.

Mark rolled his eyes. "Alright, let me rephrase that then." He grumbled. "'Duh!'"

I was too lost in thought to focus on the conversation.

"What were the symptoms and circumstances then?" I asked Lilian, ignoring Mark and Samuel bickering in the background.

Lilian cast an aggravated glance to Samuel and Mark, before she scooted closer to me, off the armchair and squeezing onto the beanbag next to me.

"It starts off as a runny nose, then goes to itching. Then from that the victim develops red hives, which eventually becomes more and more painful and bloody until... well... things get ugly real fast. Circumstances are simple, it goes from absolutely nothing to sudden sickness."

"So it's undetectable?" I sighed. "This isn't good."

"No. It isn't good." Lilian muttered. "It isn't good at all. If it really is this sickness... I'm afraid nobody is safe."