My Bookshelf Is Crooked

Not the Expected Nightmare

We hardly fell before coming to an abrupt stop. It was the smallest if drops, and nothing crumbled or collapsed down on top of us.

Not at all what I expected. Not at all what I had been afraid of for so long.

It was, however, just as dark as the shadow had been. I couldn't see Peter, but I could hear his rapid breaths in the spaces between frantic shuffling.

"What was that? Are you okay? Where are you?"

"I'm here," I answered. My voice sounded far more calm than I felt. I reached forward, patting the ground to Try and find him. Instead, I felt the tips of my fingers brush against a rough fabric. "Peter?"

"What? Are you alright?"

It wasn't him. I traced the hard line of it to a corner. A book? Had the bookshelf been swallowed too? That probably shouldn't have surprised me, but for some reason it did. Perhaps because I'd dreamed this nightmare so many times before that I knew it backwards and forwards. Things like books were never part of them. My brain was creative enough to make up such details. Which meant this wasn't a nightmare. I wasn't making this up. There was a relief in that realization I didn't entirely understand.

Peter's hand fell atop mine and he squeezed it tight. "Found you. Can you stand?"

"Stand?" I hadn't even begun to explore the space around us. Was there even room? "I'm not hurt. There's nothing in the way?'

"Not that I can tell. What was that?"

I felt Peter rise slowly and allowed him to pull me up after. Just as he'd said, the space was empty. How was that possible? There should at least have been debris in the way since there was no hole.

"The floor just gave way. It disappeared."

"Sinkhole." I said quietly. "Like back home."

"I don't- wait. Like home?" Peter fumbled through my explanation.

Not being able to see his face, I could only imagine the expressions passing over his features, expecting the worst.

"It can't be," he finally said. "That was natural. You musn't have seen what I did. The floor didn't fall. It disappeared."

That was impossible, I thought, but I kept the rebuke to myself. I couldn't criticize him for how he rationalized the events. Not after how poorly I had been handling things.

Peter finally tugged my hand. "Let's go. We need to try to find a way out."

In my head, I imagined broken boards and sharp twisted metal sticking out of the darkness all around them. Moving was dangerous. I tugged back. "We'll get hurt."

I could feel Peter turn back toward me. "It'll be fine. I'll lead. Just shuffle your feet so you don't trip."

I wanted to argue, but I knew his resolve was far stronger than mine. All is be able to do was delay their actions. "Okay," I conceeded. With him was better than separated at any rate.

Peter shifted forward and I followed. On the second step, a horrible, stuttering, creaking sound filled the darkness. I pulled close to Peter, holding onto him with both hands now.

Above them, a dim light appeared behind the sillouette of a massive door.