Streams - Book 1

Chapter 1

Meet the Jenkins

Snapping awake, Jenni lay motionless as she felt her heart race wildly in her chest. "This is not my room." She thought as her body took in her surroundings. The smell and temperature of the air, the feel of the sheets and the mattress that she was laying on; nothing was right. With controlled breaths, she focused on the last memories she had. A text from her parents, pizza, a flash of light, and then... nothing. With a growing sense of danger, Jenni cracked open her eyes and scanned the room around her.

Books, hundreds and hundreds of books were stacked, piled, and leaned against one another on the floor in front of her.

Large shelves that covered every inch of the room's outer walls were also filled with books of varying shapes and sizes. The faded covers formed muted rainbows that stretched up to the high ramparts of the ceiling. The rungs of the sliding ladders that where connected to the bookshelves also housed a medley of books and papers, as did the overstuffed chairs that where nestled in the dark corners of the room. Jenni didn't recognize the library she was in, which was unusual because she had become well acquainted with the libraries of the many schools she had attended.

"Hello," she called, "Is anyone there?"

Growing anxious for answers, Jenni kicked the thin blanket off her legs and sat up.

"Oh, Dear!" came a muffled voice, drawing Jenni's attention towards a bookcase on the far side of the room that had swung open, revealing a hidden doorway. "It's much too soon for you to be up and moving," said a soft female voice as a child pushed the door wide open and stepped into the room. Jenni sat in stunned amazement as the child hurried to her side, its features' morphing from what she originally thought was a young girl of six or seven years of age, into that of an old woman.

As the woman drew closer, Jenni discovered the blond hair that was pulled into a tight bun, was really gray and deep set wrinkles filled the areas around her eyes and mouth. Strange as it was, something about this little grandmotherly woman seemed vaguely familiar to Jenni, as if she had seen her someplace before.

"Lay back down!" the woman demanded in a tone that was a perfect mixture of loving mother and cell-block warden. "You need a lot more rest, and that injury is nowhere near ready for you to be up and about," she added, as she removed a tiny pair of square shaped glasses from her apron.

"What injury?" Jenni asked; turning her arms and legs this way and that, in search of a wound.

"Your head, you smacked it a good one," the old woman replied, as she leaned in and inspected the area above Jenni's right eye. Her old face morphed into a series of painful expressions as she glanced from one side of Jenni's head to the other.

"Doesn't it hurt?" the old woman inquired.

"No!" Jenni offered, causing the old woman to let out a deep belly laugh.

"Another testament to the abilities of my special mixture. I have yet to find a being it won't work on," she gushed. "But I'll need to get another dose in you soon, the effects will be wearing off now that you're up and moving," she added. Turning back towards the open door, she called, "Honey, our young guest is up!"

The fact that she had sustained some type of head injury should have sent Jenni into a panic. But her mind was currently occupied with the strange old woman, and the growing feeling that she knew her somehow. Her circling thoughts were interrupted by several thuds near the open doorway. A small figure emerged, but this time she didn't mistake him for a child. The tiny person, scooping up papers and re-shelving a few books, was an old man. The long white beard, tangled up with the pile of disheveled papers he was trying to regain control over, was an obvious giveaway of both his age and gender.