The Library

An Old Visitor

When the door of the library again opened, Allina was still lost in her book of boats: the marvelous crafts of Polynesian navigators, the clinker-built Viking war machines, the proud battleships of ancient Athenians. She closed the book slowly and looked down at the sunlight pouring through the doorway, then at the hobbled shadow cast over it.

A person clomped in on orthopedic shoes. It was a woman: stocky and wrinkled, grey hair falling down her back in unkempt strings. She wore a loose dress over legs as thick as tree trunks. The woman kept her hands, which looked as if they had knotted tree roots for veins, clasped behind her back. She reminded Allina of a tree, for she was ancient, brown-skinned, and stout.

Allina scurried down, for this was her visitor. "Ms. Galvez, hello," said she, quite out of breath from climbing down the ladder in such a hurry.

"Good morning, dear girl," said the old woman, "what are you reading this week?"

"I'm reading about boats." Allina grinned.

"Come here, little Allina. There is a book in this library I've meant to show you for a while." The old Ms. Galvez smiled and beckoned Allina.

Allina straightened her skirt and went to Ms. Galvez's right side, because she couldn't hear out of her left ear. She followed her into the tall stacks of books, past a few people who had arrived at other times of morning and were in chairs, reading. They traveled to a far corner of the library which Allina had never seen before. Its shelves held a number of old, dusty books.

Ms. Galvez went at once to an ancient, leather-bound book that looked very heavy to Allina. Its faded title was printed in gold on a green cover: Great Witches of the Modern Era. She flipped through the pages until she found the right one, and she handed it to Allina.

Why, wondered Allina, does she want me to learn about witches?

Allina stumbled under the weight of the book. She looked curiously at the names on the pages: on the left-hand page, Juana Galarza was written; on the right-hand page was Alejandra Maria de la Cruz. Next to both of the women's names were their portraits, and both had died quite recently. "Ms. Galvez, who were these women?" asked Allina.

"Why, you can read about them."

So she did. Juana had died at seventy-six years. Alejandra had died at the age of sixty-three. Juana had caught a sickness, or perhaps it was poison. Alejandra had all but disappeared. She was presumed dead, for her wand was found on a beach, and a witch is loath to forget her wand unless in a very dire case.

Each had been a very accomplished witch in her day. The former, Juana, had stopped a hurricane. She'd sent it into the ocean; in doing so she saved an island of people. Alejandra had been a renowned healer in her life, and was known to speak to animals.

"How do people just disappear like that?" said Allina.

"You would be surprised, at how easy such disappearance is," murmured Ms. Galvez, not looking toward Allina.