The depth of short stories and micro-fiction 2

Across The Centuries

Anastasia's fingers danced across the dusty spines of the old books, searching for a rare edition of Wuthering Heights. As a literature student, she spent most of her free time scouring the shelves of antique bookstores, hoping to stumble upon a long-lost treasure. The store's owner, Mr. Jenkins, had told her about a new shipment of books that had arrived the day before, and she was determined to find something special.

As she pushed aside a stack of yellowed novels, a small, leather-bound book caught her eye. The cover was intricately embossed with a golden lock, and the pages seemed to be slightly yellowed as if they had been aged to perfection. Anastasia carefully opened the book, expecting to find the usual scribbles of a long-forgotten author. But instead, she was surprised to see that it was a journal.

The entries were dated from 1923, and as Anastasia began to read, she realized that they were love letters, written to her, from someone named Alexander. She felt a shiver run down her spine as she read the first entry:

"My dearest Anastasia, I saw you across the room tonight, and I knew then that I was forever changed. Your eyes sparkled like diamonds in the light, and your smile lit up the entire room. I am but a humble poet and I fear that I shall never be worthy of your love. But I had to try, for my heart beats only for you."

Anastasia was taken aback. Who was this Alexander, and how did he know her name? She continued to read, devouring each entry as if it were a piece of a puzzle that she was trying to solve. As she read on, she discovered that Alexander was a poet, living in Paris in the 1920s. He had seen her at a party, and from that moment on, he was smitten.

As the entries progressed, Anastasia found herself becoming more and more entwined in Alexander's world. She read about his struggles as a writer, his dreams of publishing his work, and his passion for the arts. She saw the world through his eyes, and it was a world of beauty and wonder.

But as much as she was drawn into Alexander's world, Anastasia couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. How did he know her name? And why did his letters seem to be speaking directly to her, as if he knew her deepest thoughts and desires?

As she read on, Anastasia began to feel a strange sense of connection to Alexander. She started to see parallels between his life and her own. They both loved works of literature, they both struggled with self-doubt, and they both had a passion for the arts. It was as if they were kindred spirits, separated by time and space.

Over the next few days, Anastasia found herself returning to the journal again and again, reading and re-reading the entries as if they were a lifeline to the past. She felt a sense of comfort and solace in Alexander's words, as if he were speaking directly to her soul.

As she delved deeper into the journal, Anastasia noticed strange coincidences. She would read about a particular book that Alexander had read and then stumble upon it in a bookstore the next day. She would see a painting that he had described and then find it hanging in a gallery. It was as if the universe was conspiring to bring them together, even though they were separated by a century.

One night, as she was reading the journal, Anastasia felt a sudden chill run down her spine. She had read a passage that described a particular café, where Alexander had spent many hours writing and dreaming. As she read the description, she realized that she had been to that café before, on a trip to Paris the previous year.

It was then that she saw it - a small inscription on the last page of the journal, written in faint ink: "For my dearest Anastasia, across time and space. Meet me at Café de Flore, Paris, 2023."

Anastasia's heart skipped a beat as she read the words. Was it possible? Could Alexander have somehow known that she would find the journal and that she would be in Paris in 2023?

Over the next few weeks, Anastasia found herself becoming increasingly obsessed with the journal and its mysterious author. She spent every spare moment researching Alexander, trying to find out more about his life and his work. She scoured the internet, searching for any mention of him, but he seemed to be a ghost, a figment of her imagination.

Finally, the day arrived when Anastasia would be in Paris, on a research trip for her thesis. She had decided to take a chance and visit the Café de Flore, just in case.

As she walked into the café, she felt a strange sense of déjà vu. It was as if she had been there before, although she knew that she had not. She looked around, searching for a familiar face, but the café was crowded, and she couldn't see anyone who looked out of place.

Just as she was about to give up, Anastasia saw a figure in the corner, huddled over a book. He looked up, and their eyes met, and for a moment, she felt like she was transported back in time.

The figure stood up, and Anastasia saw that it was a young man, with piercing blue eyes and a mop of unruly hair. He smiled, and she felt her heart skip a beat.

"Anastasia," he said, his voice low and husky. "I've been waiting for you."

As she walked towards him, Anastasia felt a sense of wonder and excitement. Who was this man? Was he somehow connected to Alexander, or was he just a stranger, who happened to be in the right place at the right time?

Whatever the answer, Anastasia knew that her life would never be the same. She had stumbled upon a mystery, a puzzle that she was determined to solve. And as she sat down across from the stranger, she knew that she was in for the adventure of a lifetime.