Nevermore

Chapter 29

N I C H O L A S

Only a day had gone by, and yet Nicholas had already finished the book. After reading the last page and slowly closing the book shut, he was filled with a sense of emptiness, aching for more.

    The story was about a young girl who had died from a dreadful disease, but she could not find peace and move on to the afterlife, so she remained on earth, coming back as a ghost to haunt anyone who had been cruel to her in living. But in the end, she realized that nobody had been crueler to her than herself, and in order to find peace, she had to truly forgive herself.

    It was not the plot of the story that had captured Nicholas's heart, but the way it was written. Each page that he read, every sentence, every word, it all made his emotions resurface and come alive, like the scent of the earth rising after rain.

    Nicholas opened the book again to start reading it from the start, but his eyes caught something that took him completely by surprise.

    He saw that this edition of the 'Nevermore' book was printed only two years ago in 1956, many years after the book itself was written. Eve had said that W.H. Elmore — the author of the book — had probably died soon after publishing it.

     But if Elmore had truly died, then how could he have written a note on the first page of this book?

    He had to be alive. He was probably the one who had donated this book to the secondhand bookstore Nicholas had visited yesterday.

    His curiosity taking the better of him, Nicholas told Shawn that he wanted to buy something from town, and so he got ready quickly and packed his bag, leaving his dorm.

    Renting a bicycle, Nicholas rode all the way across town, getting himself to the secondhand bookstore he had gone to with Eve. He opened the black steel door and walked into the narrow store, looking around him. But instead of the grumpy man whom he had bought the book from yesterday, a middle-aged Japanese man with grey hair was sitting behind the counter, sipping tea as he read a book.

    The man looked up from his book at the sound of the shopkeeper's bell, which rang each time the door to his store opened. He put his book down and smiled at Nicholas. It was a practiced smile, perfected over the years to make everyone feel welcomed.

    "Hello," the man said kindly. "May I help you?"

    "Good morning, sir." Nicholas smiled at him politely, moving closer to the counter. "I bought a book from here yesterday. Is the store's owner here? I have a question I need to ask him."

    "I'm the owner. The little grump you met yesterday was my oldest son. I had left him in charge for the day." He chuckled. "How may I help you, m'boy?"

    Nicholas took the book out of his bag and showed it to the man. "I was wondering if you could tell me who this book belonged to, before donating it."

    The man put on his glasses, taking the book from Nicholas to look at it more closely. Nicholas watched as a broad smile blossomed on the man's face when he realized what book it was.

    "Ah... Nevermore," said the man, looking at the book as if it were his greatest treasure, lost for many years. "One of my all-time favorites."

    "Do you remember who donated this book to your store?" Nicholas asked, trying to take his attention away from the book and back to him.

    The man lowered his head to look at Nicholas from over his glasses. "Remember him?" he repeated, laughing lightly. "I could never forget him."

    "And... who is he, exactly?" Nicholas wanted to make sure that this book actually used to belong to its author, and that he was still alive.

    "Walter, of course. Walter Horace Elmore." The man said the name slowly, as though savoring it. He then sighed deeply, taking off his glasses as his mind was carried down a long memory lane. "Haven't seen him for a long time..."

    "Is — is Mr. Elmore alive, then?" Nicholas asked hesitantly, trying to tread lightly upon the matter. "Because there are rumors saying that he had disappeared soon after publishing his book."

    "He didn't die, if that's what you mean," said the old man, the ghost of his smile still stretched on his lips. "I met Walter during the war. He saved my life, in a way. And I saved as much of him as I could. But one day, he..." His voice trailed off, with his gaze fixed on nowhere. He sighed again. "Perhaps it is not my place to speak of it."

    "Do you know where he lives, by any chance?"

    "Walter?" The old man mused in surprise. "But why would you want to know where he lives?"

    "I honestly don't know why." Nicholas smiled shyly. "But I know that it wasn't a coincidence that I picked up this book yesterday. And this story... it spoke to me. I don't know what I would even say to this man if I see him, but... I just have a feeling that this is what I'm meant to do. I can't really explain it."

    The old man looked at him for long seconds in silence, as though considering it.

    "You know... you do remind me of my younger self. I always believed that nothing happens without a reason. Our spirits are merged with the universe," he said with a heartful smile.

     At last, he drew in a breath, taking out a small piece of parchment to write down the address on it.

    He then handed it to Nicholas, although he didn't let the note go and lingered, holding on to it as he said quite gravely, "But be warned... He might not be the man you expect him to be. War changes everyone."