|Audrey "Aud" Carpenter (shyviolet) wrote in repose,|
@ 2020-05-01 10:00:00
|Entry tags:||*narrative, audrey carpenter|
Picking out a nonfiction was actually easier than Audrey expected. The reason? There wasn’t too much to choose from. As for The Revolutionary War, there were few books, mostly about Alexander Hamilton. Probably in thanks to the burning flame that still lingered from the musical. The tip of her finger trailed along spine after spine, reading title after title until she finally plucked 1776 from the shelf. This should be good, right? Turning it over her eyes skimmed the back then the front. Illustrated edition. Zi was an artist, he’d probably appreciate pictures. This would work.
Audrey turned to head back to the front when whispers and mutters caught her attention. The bones of her spine aligned into straightness. “…hello?” No one else was supposed to be in yet and Ren was up front preparing to open for the day.
Unintelligible undertones continued, barely detectable in the otherwise silent bookstore.
Her arms tightened around the book she had chosen for Zi This was the part in the story where the heroine should do the smart thing and run, but Audrey never claimed to be a heroine of anyone’s story, even her own. She took a deep breath and followed the sound of the garbled murmurs. Was the front unlocked, had someone slipped in thinking they were open?
“Hello?” Again, and again no answers, just that hissing, rustling sound like snakes trying to hold a conversation. She shivered. She should turn around and get Ren, not blindly wandering toward it like a a fool—Audrey nearly dropped the book she was holding against her cardigan; the whispers were now a cacophony submerging her as fully as an ocean wave. It felt like—almost like it was inside her head, not coming from anywhere in particular. Was it? They were so loud, summoning—no, beckoning her to come closer, but where was closer? God, was she about to have a seizure?
Loud. It was so unbearably loud. 1776 fell, thudding to the ground so she could clamp her hands over her ears, she backed up away and away until her back hit the shelf behind her---BAM. The whispers stopped, well, not completely. They diminished once again, like lovers hiding in the night. Audrey’s hands which had been so tightly pinned against her ears gradually drew away from their hold, and she glanced down. At her feet there was a book. A blank, black book.
And the voices? Were coming from it. No, no. That wasn’t possible. She sucked in her lower lip and chewed momentarily. Voices didn’t come from books, no, that was something written about in books. This wasn’t Harry Potter and that was NOT Tom Riddle’s diary. Logic, Audrey. Logic. But to be fair? Logic didn’t even begin to describe the strangeness of this town. Her jaw tightened as she stared down at the mystery beside her mary-janes. Puckering her lips once, Audrey cautiously bent down to stoop and pluck the book from the ground.
Instantly the whispers stopped.
There was silence in the aisles once more, except for the whir of the air conditioner and the pleasant rumble of the coffee machines starting up for the day.
Weird, weird, weird. She snatched 1776 from the ground as well, finally standing with both books in her hands. The black hardback was simple. There was touch of gold threading along the spine glinting under fluorescent lights, but that was it. No title. No author. Frowning Audrey flipped it open. Blank. The next page? Blank, blank and after that? Blank.
She shivered. “…of course, I’d find a haunted journal in the …” She looked up. “Self Help section.” She snorted. “Self Help, naturally.”
The gold thread shimmered, glinting in her eyes. “Well, Tom, “ was said with a sigh. “I am no Ginny, and I have no plans of writing in you, but I think it’s best I take you off the shelves, hm?” Audrey had to stifle the oncoming shivers that threatened to blossom over her body again. The voices had vanished as quickly as they had come, and who knows, maybe she had been daydreaming—God knew her imagination could take her far and away, and yes, this town was weird, but she wasn’t. Right? She was painstakingly normal, simple, innocent, sheltered and somewhat annoying---Audrey. Magical books were meant for special people. She rubbed the back of her neck toying with fine baby hairs along the nape.
Now holding two books against her chest she started to head toward the café toward the scent of earthy coffee grinds, leaving behind thoughts of the fantastical she set them on the back counter so she could go get her work apron, instantly forgetting what she had heard, and also completely unaware that the thread that had been so gracefully woven into the fabric of the black book had vanished and found a home hanging delicately from her tiny right wrist.