Elizabeth stared at the blank page in front of her and sighed loudly. Why was starting a story so hard? She tapped her pen against the side of the table and jumped at the sound of someone clearing their throat.
Against the far wall, the room's only other occupant, an elderly man, peered reprovingly over the top of his glasses at her. He stared unblinking at her apologetic smile, then smoothed his hair with one hand and lifted his book to resume reading.
Elizabeth's eyes returned to the empty page. No alarm clock ringing, no dream sequence, no obnoxious self-introduction paragraph. She leaned back and stared at the curved ceiling above her. At least half the story planned out in her head, and characters so vivid she could hear them speaking to each other when she did mundane tasks, but not a single decent starting thought.
She glanced over to her left. The man appeared engrossed in his book. Maybe she should start with a cranky old man in a library. Elizabeth shuffled back several pages to one titled, "Ideas" and scribbled a brief description of his green sweater, large glasses, and white mustache, then turned back to her empty page. Still no literary revelations.
"Damn it," she muttered under her breath.
An exaggerated sigh came from the corner, and she looked over resignedly. The man rose, stared pointedly at her and shook his head in exasperation. "Even adults don't know how to behave in a library these days." He walked slowly from the room, tucking the book under his arm.
Elizabeth closed her notebook and rested her chin on her palm. An abrupt buzzing made her jump and she clapped her hand down on her phone as it vibrated against the surface of the reading table. She flipped it over and checked the time on the screen—5:20. Sighing, she pushed back her chair and stretched, breathing in the scent of dust, books, and ink. Wind and a smattering of cold rain gusted against the tall windows.
Elizabeth plunked her worn brown canvas bag on the table and turned to grab the top book. Her hip caught the bottom one instead, sending the entire stack cascading to the carpet. She winced as each one landed, the hollow thuds resounding through the empty room. As she knelt to start filling the bag, the librarian's head popped around the corner.
"Excuse me, is everything all right?"
Elizabeth grimaced and gestured to the mess around her. "Uh, yeah. I knocked everything off the table. I'm so sorry about that."
"It's not the first time books have fallen in the library." The librarian smiled slightly. "At least the gentleman that was here left for the day. He dislikes disturbances."
"I noticed." Elizabeth glanced up from her knees. "I hope I didn't bother him too much. He seemed pretty annoyed."
The woman shook her head. "Probably, but he's actually a charming man when you get to know him. If you get him talking, he'll tell you stories all day about when he was in the army in World War Two. He wrote slogans and drew cartoons to help recruit more soldiers. Ask him about it some time, and he'll be your best friend." She gave a small laugh. "And he'll be thrilled to chat with another American."
"I'll have to do that some time, thanks." Elizabeth stood up. "Is there a limit on how many books I can check out at a time?"
The librarian cocked her head slightly. "No, but the library is closing in the next few minutes, so..."
"Okay, I'm just packing up." Elizabeth gestured at the darkened windows. "Are we supposed to have a lot of rain tonight?"
The librarian paused as she turned to go. "You're new to London?"
Elizabeth nodded. "Yep, I just moved here about a week ago."
The woman's lips twitched into a knowing smile. "We always get a good deal of rain, especially now in the winter, although we get plenty of snow and sleet as well. Carry an umbrella everywhere you go. If you don't have one, stop tonight on your way home and buy one."
Elizabeth zipped the heavy bag closed, hoisted it to the table, and pulled it over her head. She settled it across her body. "Thanks, I'll have to do that. I'll bring these up in a minute and get out of here, then."
The librarian nodded and turned away, her feet noiseless on the carpet as she moved toward the front desk.
Elizabeth tossed her coat over an arm, stuffed her phone into the pocket of her jeans, and shot a final glance around to make sure she hadn't left anything. The wind crashed into the windows with renewed force.
Suddenly, over the wind came a tremendous rushing sound. Elizabeth glanced up at the windows but had no time to move. She was surrounded by a shaft of brilliant light, and felt her body being jerked upward with incredible force. For a few seconds, everything was a wild mix of white light shot with rainbow prisms, not being able to breathe, and the sensation of rushing upward at a shocking speed. Then as suddenly as it had begun, it all came to a sudden stop with a jarring crash against her back and head.
Elizabeth's eyes fluttered open. She was surrounded by glowing light. Colors swirled around her, brilliant but out of focus. She blinked painfully and squinted against the brightness. A man's face swam above her, saying something, but no sounds registered. She tried to open her mouth, but blinding pain shot through her temples, and she closed her eyes and slipped into darkness.
YOU ARE READING
All The Little Pieces
أدب الهواةShe stared out at the faint light that still glowed bluish against the gathering dark. Her world had just exploded in front of her. There was no solution now, no going back. It was all gone.
