Looking For A Legend (Book 1)

Looking For A Legend Chapter 3 - Elijah

Never before in his life had Eli considered reading to be an exhausting activity.  He’d spent the bulk of the past twelve days in Utkin’s office, reading applicants’ files.  When Eli commented on the large size of the piles, Dr. Utkin assured him that the stacks were quite modest, compared to the psychology or literature departments.  That made Eli’s head hurt.

Happy to be finished with his work for the day, Eli returned to his home, a small dormitory on campus.  As he unlocked the door to the modest space, the world around him transformed.  Eli didn’t see his narrow bed, drab grey walls pressboard desk or squeaky desk chair.  To Elijah, he was walking into his salon, wood paneled walls and built in bookshelves surrounded a velvet-appointed chaise.    There was a fireplace too, flames flickering and popping as it warmed the parlor.  Fine Persian rugs decorated the floor, covering a lacquered hard wood.  The colors and lighting often changed, tailored to Eli’s mood.  Today he was drawn to a light maple and navy. 

Eli took a seat on the chaise, picking up a brown, broken book.  The hardcover spine had cracked and a part of the back had ripped away completely.  He handled the book carefully, not sure he’d ever find another copy.  Eli found the book in a second hand book sale, buried under other books with no real home, hidden away in the far corner of the antique store where his brother, Levi works.  The shop keeper didn’t seem to know the value of the book, although at the time, Eli didn’t know either.  He bought the book without knowing anything about it, but it had become his most prized possession.

The book was a journal, Eli knew that much, belonging to someone with the initials M.C. and written entirely in another language.  M.C. wrote not just another language, but one that used a different alphabet.  Eli honestly didn’t know what alphabet he was working with, the tight scrawling handwriting obscuring the origin, so he arbitrarily decided on Greek, and had started deciphering what he could.  From what Eli could translate so far, M.C. was most likely a man attending college, or about to attend college - the language barrier made that difficult to clarify.  What did transcend the language was a pain M. C. was suffering.  M. C. was separated from his family – maybe, and ill-prepared for a life without them.    Unfortunately, until Eli mastered Greek and better translate the journal, much of M.C.’s life would remain secret.  It was a thrilling secret.  These were just the sort of mysteries Eli liked, problems waiting for solutions.  Maybe M. C. was out there waiting for someone to find him.

Eli found a fresh piece of paper and started copying the journal in its native script.  He tried to transcribe the characters as closely as he could.  He didn’t dare write in the book, but even if he did, M.C.’s handwriting was too cramped to fit annotations between lines or in the margins.  M.C. wasted no bit of paper.  As the transcribing and translating continued, Eli tried to learn more about his mysterious author.  So far M. C. had not let on where he was from, or where he was attending school.  It seemed very likely that Eli had found a second or third journal in a continued series.  The volume seemed to start very abruptly.  Or, at least, Elijah thought it did.  There are no real rules on how to start a journal, just start writing.

Eli was making remarkable progress on his transcribing the journal.  He lost track of the time, the ticking of an old clock just a sound in the background of his mind.  He’d filled about twenty double-spaced pieces of loose lined paper with his own precise script.  Later, he’d go back with a Greek dictionary and match up as much as he could.  Just as Eli gingerly turned the page of the journal, his illusion was broken.  The walls returned to grey; the fireplace vanished, leaving Eli sitting on his bed with M. C.’s journal in his lap.  Someone was unexpectedly banging against his door.  He tried to rebuild his illusion, only to have it shattered again.

Angrily, Eli got to his feet, pacing the small distance to his door.  He swung it open mid-pound, surprised to see two students fall into his room, the pair tangled together in the heat of passion.  At the very least, the simmer of passion.  Eli didn’t recognize either one, they must have been newly enrolled students.  Lazily, the male student – a blonde, smug, handsome fellow with a smug lopsided grin looked up at Eli.

“Good evening, chap!” He said in the worst British accent Eli had ever heard.  As he got up on his arms, the blonde revealed his female companion’s state of partial undress.  Before Eli could notice anything, she realized she was exposed, and with a playful scream she covered herself up.  While Eli didn’t know either one of them, he the want of their friendship was not growing on him either.

Eli moved his hand from his forehead, curling his fingers in, but leaving his small finger extended, then pointed to the ground with both hands.  He repeated himself.  But the intruders didn’t understand the question.  Instead, the guy only caught the first part of the gesture, and found it amusing.

“Look babe, pinkies out! Classy!” The blonde laughed in a way that made Elijah doubt his sobriety.  The girl, Eli was sure her name wasn’t “Babe”, laughed with him.  He could smell the cheap beer on them.

Angrily, Eli gestured at them, moving his hand from his shoulder, away from his side and closing his fingers.  When they didn’t get the message, Eli grabbed the blonde man by the shoulder and hauled him to his feet before pushing him out of the room.  The girl stumbled out willingly, following her lover.  Eli swung the door shut behind them.

Finally alone again, Eli let out a sigh.  He looked at M.C.’s journal, and then signed again of the progress he’d made.  He’d done fairly well transcribing tonight, but on the whole Eli barely made a dent in the translation of the journal.  He wanted to do more, but was too frustrated to continue transcribing.  He tried to think of another use for his evening, but his mind was rattled, and there was no calming him now.  Broken illusions took too much of a toll on Eli.  He’d try again in the morning, and until then he would just try to sleep.