The Faerie Isles

Chapter One - The Mysterious Bookshelf

Fifteen year-old Isla Raj had always wanted to embark on a beautiful, exciting adventure, to, perhaps, an exotic country or a vast ocean. Little did she expect that, one day, the grandest adventure of her life would come to her.

"Yeah, mom, it's delicious," Isla lied blatantly as she forked a second lump of warm potato into her mouth. Her parents had recently become quite adventurous in their cooking, leaving Isla, the only child still living at home, to be the taste tester of all their imaginative meals. That day's lunch, a medley of veggies soaked in soy sauce and sprinkled with a few too many herbs, with a side of contrastingly flavorless steamed potatoes, was exceptionally difficult for her to swallow down. 

Though she felt she should be honest about their cooking skills, Isla understood her parents had a hard time upholding a positive attitude with three of their four children living away from home, and if experimenting in the kitchen was what distracted them from their underlying sadness, their daughter was not planning on taking that away from them.

"Oh, good, honey," her mother replied from the seat at the table opposite Isla. "Your dad thought maybe you wouldn't like this one. I'll leave you seconds on the stove." 

"Oh, no," Isla protested, alarmed, "I'm, uh, full. It's really good, though." 

"I'll finish up those seconds, then," Isla's father offered without hesitation.

Once she'd finished her upsetting version of a lunch, Isla pushed her seat back from the table and took her plate to the kitchen sink. "Mom, I have books to return to the library before Robin comes over later. Is it okay if I just bike there?"

The town library wasn't far from Isla's neighborhood, and she found it more enjoyable to bike rather than have her mother drive her there. Mrs. Raj glanced up at her daughter. 

"Fine, you can take the bike. Just make sure to wear a helmet and don't stop to speak to any strange people on the way there." 

"Of course," Isla promised, privately thinking that if she did encounter a person strange enough, they might, in fact, be very interesting to speak to. And, as always, a small bottle of pepper spray dangled from the key ring she brought everywhere with her, so she saw no problem.

Isla often thought like this, valuing adventure and excitement over safety or necessity. She was not being reckless, she told herself, because she always had a backup plan, a safety escape. For example, if she stopped to speak to an interesting-looking individual but he or she happened to harbor malicious intent, she would simply pepper spray them and ride quickly away. It's simple, she thought, just don't be stupid, and enjoy what life has to offer. She knew, however, that her parents would find this theory ludicrous, so she refrained from telling them anything they didn't need to know.

After she'd gulped down a few mouthfuls of cold water to wash away the taste of lunch, Isla laced herself into her once-white sneakers and grabbed the bag that held her most recent picks from the library. "Got your phone?" her father called from the hallway when she was halfway out the front door. 

"Yup!" she replied brightly, fingering the rectangular shape that peeked from the back pocket of her jeans. "Bye!" She closed the door firmly behind her and strode over to the purple bicycle that waited just outside the garage door. It was a hand-me-down from Isla's oldest sister, Maia, and surely one of her favorites.

The thing was slightly battered, with the paint peeling off and the rubber handlebars worn, but Isla considered these signs it had been well-loved. She lifted the helmet from where it rested on the seat and slid into its place, clicking the buckle closed under her chin. Isla slung the book bag over one handlebar and checked her pockets again for her keys and phone. Once she'd made sure everything was secured, she flew down the driveway and out of her cul-de-sac. The ride was pleasantly scenic, and the suburban area in which she lived was well-kept and bright, with neatly-trimmed bushes and sidewalks decorated in multicolored chalk.

Eventually, Isla watched the quaint houses disappear into brightly decorated shops and small buildings. A cool summer breeze gusted through her long black hair, lifting it off her waist and into the air behind her. Cars passed by where she rode on the sidewalk, the big machines rumbling quietly alongside her as she swerved her bike around a final corner. A large brick building came into view, bold white letters above the doors forming the words Greensvale Public Library. Isla breathed out a sigh of relief as she tucked her bike safely into the bike rack. The afternoon sun had been growing hot, beating down on her back while she rode and now her black hair as she unclasped her helmet.

Inside the library, she deposited her finished books into the return bin, then headed directly for the young adult section. She leaned contentedly against one shelf, examining the back cover of a book and basking in the delightfully cool air conditioning. Unfortunately, she glimpsed a familiar face from school, a boy she'd heavily disliked that past year for his disturbing views, and ducked into hiding behind the next shelf.

She found herself in the nonfiction section, facing a row of books about poisonous bugs and other small, many-legged critters. Making a sound of disgust, Isla turned away and was greeted by an unfamiliar sight. The wall in the back of the young adult section, empty for all the time she had been visiting the Greensvale Library, was now occupied by an odd-looking bookcase. Large and ornate, it housed a rather abnormal collection of dull-colored books. Stepping closer, Isla found the volumes to be dusty and practically untouched. Unlike the other books in the library, none of the bindings displayed titles. She reached for a smaller volume, sliding it out of its place on the shelf and flipping it open. Startled, Isla realized the words that lay on the pages inside were a mix of English and a language she didn't recognize.

A spark of curiosity flickered to life inside her, prompting the girl to walk briskly to the front desk and inquire about the new addition. "Can I help you?" The bored-looking young librarian asked, drawing her eyes away from her phone screen. 

"Uh, yes, hi," Isla responded, unsure of what, exactly, she wanted to know. "There's a, um - a new shelf in the back of the young adult section, and there's a bunch of stuff written in other languages. I'm just curious, what kinds of books are those?" 

"I'm not really sure," the other girl responded uninterestedly, "nobody is. But that shelf is not new. It's been in that spot since this place opened."

"Sorry, not to be rude or anything, but I think you're wrong, ma'am. I've been coming here my whole life, and I've never seen that shelf or any of those books before today." Isla was fairly certain she was right. She would have noticed those strange books before. And she knew for a fact that the back wall had always been empty. The windows that used to bring light into the small area were now blocked by an ostentatiously grand bookshelf. 

Behind the desk, the young woman examined her fingernails and sighed. "Babe, I don't know what to tell you. It's literally been there forever. Most of us just avoid the thing. We're not really sure what the books are for, and nobody ever checks them out." 

Isla now knew one of two things - either the librarian was, for some reason, lying to her, or she didn't actually know what she was speaking about.

"Right," she replied, "okay. Sorry to bother you." Isla did not need to stay, so she began to walk out of the library, thoughts racing through her mind. There was no reason for her to jump to conclusions or be exceedingly suspicious. But she was. She was not sorry, and she had the strangest feeling something unusual was going on. 

Coming to a standstill just outside the library doors, she turned around and raced back inside. She knew one thing for certain - whatever was happening here, she was going to figure it out.