The Generators

5. Magdalenea

It's a new chapter and a new piece of the puzzle. Remember this a new character so don't be alarmed! Happy Reading

Comment, comment, comment!

Updated 5/1, 12/26

------------------

I leaned back in the big white chair and closed my eyes, letting the emptiness of the room envelope me. Maybe if I wished for it enough, I too would disappear.

"Don't you fall asleep on me."

I opened one eye and cracked a small smile to the man sitting in the chair next to me. As usual, he was looking much too formal and much handsome to be reading a children's book to a girl who was much too old. One might have thought that I was the one keeping him there, but no, I assure you he did it on his accord.

"I'm still here."

"Don't sound so happy about it," Mr. O said, his face settling into one of his famous grins. He looked down at the book again, the pages worn and weathered from years of use. Delicately he skimmed his fingers over the lines, reading each word under his breath.

"Lost it again, didn't you?" I said with a soft chuckle.

"I wouldn't, you know if you didn't give me such a scare after almost every line."

"I like to enjoy the story with my eyes closed. It makes me feel like I'm there instead of here." If I've told him once, I've told him a million times, but I guess whether or not I was still alive mattered more than why my eyes were closed in the long run.

Mr. O's smile faltered but didn't completely drop from his face. "My grandmother used to tell me that one good story is better than a thousand crappy lifetimes."

I don't remember when it was when I first became ill, it seems like it's been this way all my life. And if the doctors know what it is, I haven't heard. All they tell me is that I need bed rest, lots of medication and that each day I grow weaker. It's a dismal existence. One I loathe. Perhaps that is why I keep reading.

A machine next to me beeped. Another word. The lines on the monitor rose and fell. Besides our voices and the sound of the room filtration system, these were the only sounds I'd hear for the next few hours. And tomorrow. And the day after. And yesterday. And the day before that. It had been happening too long for me to care anymore. This was life, and there was no use fighting it. This is who I am.

"Ugh. Keep going?"

"I don't remember where we were."

"We're only at the beginning. Peter is just now meeting the White Witch, and she's offering him Turkish Delights." I yawned and closed my eyes again, settling in to be taken away by the adventure. Sure, it was one I'd voyaged on thousands of times, but I loved it anyway. As much as I don't change, the stories didn't either.

"I don't see why we don't read more new books," Mr. O said. It wasn't the first time he'd ever attempted to bring this up. And it certainly wouldn't be the last.

"We do read new books. Out of the hundreds, we read every year, most of them are new."

"But Chronicles is always in the monthly rotation."

"It's familiar. I like that."

"But where's the excitement when you know every word of the story? You know what happens even before the words leave my lips."

"The psychiatrist said I need a meaningful routine."

"Which one?"

"The behavior consultant. Mrs..... Miss.... Lovejoy."