by Brian Rella
It felt good to be outside walking, especially away from her screwed-up home. She came out of the woods by the volunteer firehouse and the Beauchamp Inn on Main Street. All the stores on Main appeared closed except for the diner. The smell of coffee and bacon filled her nose, and Jessie stopped in front of the diner to take a whiff. She closed her eyes and inhaled. Her mouth watered and her tummy growled. Cereal wasn’t nearly as satisfying as crispy bacon. She opened her eyes, turning to continue to school, and noticed something peculiar a few storefronts down. A light was on in the consignment shop. What are they doing open at this hour?
Jessie walked to the store to check it out, and noticed a truck idling out front and moving men walking boxes around the store. An older woman with dark brown skin and curly hair, stood at the front of the store directing the men. Jessie stopped, gazing at the activity for a minute. The woman glanced at her and stuck her head out the door.
“Hello, dear! Gorgeous morning, isn’t it!” the woman said.
“Hi,” Jessie replied. Somebody took their happy pill this morning. “Are those all clothes?”
The woman chuckled. “Why, no, dear,” she said. “These are books.”
“Books?” Jessie said. “I thought this store sold old clothes.”
“Not anymore,” the woman said. “Now it sells books, among other things. Would you like to come inside, dear?” The woman chuckled again. What’s so funny, and why does she keep calling me 'dear'?
Jessie had school in a little while and wanted to read. Besides, she was getting a weird vibe from the woman. She was too…happy, or…something. “Well, I’ve got to get to school,” Jessie said.
“Suit yourself,” the woman said. “I’ve got lots of unpacking and stacking to do anyway.”
Jessie stared at all the boxes going in the store. She moved a little closer and peered into the front window. Boxes were stacked almost to the ceiling. “All those are books?” she asked.
“Sure are, honey,” the woman said. “I’m a collector. Do you like books?”
“Yes,” Jessie said.
“Well, you’ll have to come by sometime and see my collection. I have loads of books for young ladies. Now, let me see…I’m usually pretty good at this. I bet you like scary stories, don’t you?”
Surprised, Jessie gaped at the woman, tracing her unusual features with her eyes. The woman had a flattish nose and her hair was graying and long. It curled tightly and was arranged in an orderly mess. She was tall, hourglass shaped, and had a kind, loving look about her. She looked like someone’s grandmother.
How’d she know what kind of books I like? Jessie thought as she watched the movers maneuvering an old, plush couch with red-velvet cushions between rows of bookshelves. The couch looked comfortable, like a couch you’d want to curl up on with a blanket and a good book.
“Neat trick,” Jessie said, smirking.
The woman laughed and her mouth seemed to open and eclipse the rest of her face. “It’s my gift!” she said exuberantly. “You might say I can tell a book by its cover.” She cackled at her own joke.
Jessie was intrigued by the woman despite her quirkiness, and decided she’d come back after school to see if there were any books she might enjoy. She needed a new book anyway. She was almost done with the one she was reading. “Okay,” Jessie said. “Maybe I’ll see you after school.”
“Wonderful!” the woman said. “My name is Olga. See you soon, miss…?”
“Jessie.”
Jessie grinned awkwardly, a little weirded out by the encounter, and made it to her favorite tree at school way before first bell. The sun was coming up and light dew glistened on the grass in the early morning rays. She plopped down under her reading tree and read until the first bell rang.
School was boring as usual. She did all her homework during lunch and her free period, except for math. She hated math, and always saved it for home. Struggling with algebra in her bedroom was way better than spending time in the company of Steve or Marie, who were probably going to be there again tonight.
Occasionally, she thought about her encounter with Olga at the bookstore during the day. I wonder what kind of horror novels she has? Jessie was almost finished reading The Shining for the hundredth time. Maybe she could find a new author she hadn’t read before. Maybe it was fortunate, her running into Olga, Jessie decided. She hoped her books were affordable. Collectibles sounded like they came with a high price tag.
7
OLGA
October 13, 2015
Beauchamp, Louisiana
* * *
“Randy,” she said, “read the numbers on the boxes for God’s sake.” He nodded and began moving the stack of boxes to the correct row. He cowered when he came near her, only looking sideways at her. She could smell the fear on him.
Olga wasn’t hiding her frustration or annoyance anymore. The store was in complete shambles and the movers could not follow instructions. She was babysitting morons. How hard is it to match numbers? Three-year-olds do this!
The jet lag wasn’t helping any either. She was tired and irritable and still had a lot of work to do, because she was certain these boxes would still be out of order, and need to be moved by the time the movers left.
Olga shook her head in frustration and checked her watch. Maybe I should check in with Brennan. Glancing around, it looked like they were almost done. She thought about sending them away and getting the store organized herself. At least she could get the important books away.
As if he had read her mind, Brennan texted her. She pulled her phone from her pocket and replied. Almost done getting the boxes in the store. Movers are horrible. Going to send them away and finish myself.
He replied: Sorry. They came highly recommended. Guess that was a mistake. Let me know when you have the important books secured.
Will do, she replied.
She put her hands on her hips and breathed deeply trying to get a hold on her frustration.
Randy was outside at the back of the truck and she walked over to him.
“How much longer, dear?” she asked.
He couldn’t look her in the eyes. “Almost done, missus. Maybe a half hour or so,” he said meekly.
“Great. Get your men out of my store. I’ll finish getting things in order myself,” she said.
He looked relieved walking into the store with two boxes in his arms. Randy gestured to one of the other movers to get the last box from the truck. He shouted to the other man in the back of the store and told him they were leaving. The men filed past Olga and to the truck, climbed in, and started it.
All the boxes were in the store now. Olga stared at Randy, who was eyeballing her in his side-view mirror. She frowned and he darted his eyes away. That was the fastest they moved all day. Exhaust billowed from the tailpipe as the engine started. The truck pulled away from the curb and sped off.
Olga chuckled to herself. Maybe I went a little overboard with him? Nah… She turned back to the store. It was still a mess, but in much better shape than a few hours ago. She looked at the side of one of the boxes. It was labeled with the company logo and sales pitch. “Gold’s Movers. The Gold standard in moving.”
“Hrmph!” Olga said. She headed into the store and looked at the first box she came to. It was labeled “Fragile” and “Storage.” Grunting, she picked it up and brought it to the back. This was one of the boxes she needed to secure and she was sure there were others laying around in the front of the store that shouldn’t be.
It’s going to be a long afternoon, she thought as she headed to the back room with the box.
An hour passed and she still hadn’t found all the boxes of artifacts and books she needed to secure. Olga began to worry a box might have been left on the truck. There had been six boxes that needed to be hidden. She’d only managed to find five of them. I should have checked the truck before they left. Damn it. Olga called Randy’s cell to check. Her call went to voice mail, and she left a message for him to call her back.
Her search became frantic as what if scenarios played through her mind.
8
JESSIE
October 13, 2015
Beauchamp, Louisiana
* * *
After school, Jessie strolled back to Olga’s bookstore. The truck was gone and a new sign hung above the door: “Olga’s Odd Books and Antiquities.” Jessie opened the door and a little brass bell above the door rang.
She stepped inside and was awestruck by the volume of books strewn all over the store. The place was in disarray. Books were piled on shelves, spilled out of boxes, and scattered on the floor. The aisles of book shelves stretched to the back of the store. She walked down the middle aisle, weaving her way between boxes. Scents of old, dry paper filled her nose. At the end of the aisle was a counter. On the counter was an old cash register, the manual kind that had big metal keys to make the price and the long handle with the bulb at the end to pull down and ring up the sale.
Behind the cash register, up high on the wall, was a strange clock. In the center of the clock, an intriguing figure with big, black eyes, tentacles for a beard, and bat-like wings sat cross-legged. The creature’s arms told the time. Jessie stared at it for a minute, thinking the creature looked familiar, but she couldn’t place where she’d seen it before.
She walked back up the first row of books, swiveling her head from side to side and glancing into boxes on the floor. She’d never heard of these books before, and the strangest thing was, she didn’t see authors’ names on some of the covers.
She pulled a book down from a shelf, opened it to a random page, and noticed the writing wasn’t in English. The book had strange pictures too. They were old, black-and-white photos of a family that looked regal or something. And they were in all these different poses in front of a huge castle. No one was smiling in any of the pictures, which Jessie thought was kind of strange. From their clothes and the castle, Jessie guessed they were some kind of European royalty from the late 1800s.
“That is the biography of the Princess Esteria,” a voice said from behind her, drawing a startled gasp of breath from Jessie. “She was a German princess and lived over one hundred years ago. Do you speak German?”
“No,” Jessie said. It was Olga. She was wearing the same clothes and smile as this morning.
“A wonderful language, though a little harsh to my ears. Always sounds like I’m being scolded when I’m being spoken to.” She cackled and tossed her head back, brushing her long, graying curls out of her face.
“Now,” Olga said, “this is not the section you are looking for. Horror is what you are looking for, isn’t it?”
“How did you know that this morning?” Jessie asked.
“Like I said: I can always tell a book by its cover,” she said. “This way, Ms. Jessie.”
She led Jessie to another shelf. “Now, here are all of my horror books. If you can’t find something that interests you, please let me know. I haven’t organized everything yet, but I’m getting there,” Olga said.
“Wow,” Jessie said. “These are really old.” She ran her fingers across the cracked and frayed bindings on the shelf.
“I’ve been collecting for years,” Olga said. “Longer than most.” She smiled again and there was something mysterious behind her smile. Olga left Jessie to browse the books and went to the back.
Jessie browsed up and down the aisles, passing many strange titles, but nothing grabbed her. She started looking through boxes on the floor. Not all of them were opened yet. One caught her eye. The word “Fragile” was written upside down on the bottom corner of the box. She lifted the box and turned it over.
Open it, an ominous voice said in her head. The voice gave her pause. It didn’t sound like her internal voice, and she had been hearing it a lot lately. She shrugged it off and grabbed the tape from the side of the box and tried to pull it. It was stuck. She dug her nail into the box and tried to get a corner of the tape up so she could open it, and broke her nail trying. “Ouch!” she said as a droplet of blood began forming on her finger where the nail had broken. “Damn it,” she said and shook her finger in the air to get rid of the sting. The drop of blood from her finger splattered on the top of the box. Jessie’s ears began to ring.
Try again, Jessie. Open the box. The dark voice said. She glanced down at the box and scratched at the tape with her other finger. A jolt of adrenaline went through her. It was electrifying, and made her vision go blurry for a second. The tape pulled away and the cardboard box was half open. The ringing in her ears stopped and she opened the box fully.
Inside, a book with red binding and faded gold letters seized her attention. She pulled it out and looked at the cover, rubbing the palm of her hand over the edge of the book. She pronounced the title in her head. AH-RAY-ZEE-UL.
Arraziel? Something about the name drew Jessie in. She ran her fingertips gently over the letters. They were silky smooth and faded. Jessie inspected the book cover front and back, but couldn’t find an author’s name.
She immediately opened the book and started thumbing through the pages. “Huh?” she said. All the pages were blank. She flipped to the cover and read the title again. Something about the title held her. And the blank pages…it was more than curiosity. She felt like she couldn’t part with the book, like she had to hold onto it. She heard Olga in another aisle and walked over to her with the book cradled in her arms.
“Olga,” she asked, “what’s this book? The pages are all blank.”
Jessie thought she saw Olga flash a scowl for the briefest of moments, but then her face went back to its normal happy grin as she swiftly reached for the book and took it from Jessie’s arms. Jessie felt a strong desire to take it back and frowned.
“Now, how did that get on the shelf?” Olga asked herself. “These darn movers. I told them the box that this book was in was supposed to stay in the back. This one’s not for sale, dear.” Olga held the book close to her chest and turned to go to the back of the store.
“Why are the pages blank?” Jessie asked.
Olga stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “They’re not,” Olga mumbled.
“What do you mean they’re not?” Jessie said. “I just opened the book and all the pages are blank.”
Olga turned to Jessie and bent down so that they were eye level. Her mouth stretched ear to ear. There was ferocity behind that grin. “Sweetie,” Olga said, “this book’s not for you. It’s a very old book and it’s mine and not for sale. Now please run along and find another.” Olga looked Jessie right in the eyes and Jessie felt an icy chill go up her spine.
Reluctantly, Jessie moved back to the horror section to continue searching the shelves for other books, but her mind was still on Arraziel. Something about that book had captivated Jessie and she wanted it like a petulant child wants a toy another child is playing with. She had wanted to grab it out of Olga’s hand when the woman had taken it from her and now all she could think about was taking it back.
A phone rang and she heard Olga answer it at the back of the store. Jessie tiptoed back to the row where Olga had taken the book from her and looked down the aisle. Olga was at the counter under the strange clock scowling as she spoke. “Well stop the truck and look damn it!” she yelled into the phone. She slammed the Arraziel book down on the counter, threw the curtains aside and stomped into the back of the store. Jessie couldn’t stop staring at the book on the counter.
Take the book, Jessie. It’s yours, the dark voice in her head said.
Jessie looked up and down the aisles and stood still, listening. She heard Olga talking loudly on the phone
in the back room. In her head, she heard a heartbeat that wasn’t hers.
The heartbeat grew louder and blood rushed to her face. A burst of energy shot through her. She ran down the aisle and grabbed the book, then darted to the front of the store, stuffing the book in her bag. As she reached the door, she glanced over her shoulder.
Go! the voice in her head commanded.
She pushed the door open and ran up Main Street. She took the shortcut back home, giggling all the way.
Jessie felt no guilt at stealing the book, in fact, she didn’t feel like she was stealing at all. The book is mine.
9
JESSIE
October 13, 2015
Beauchamp, Louisiana
* * *
“We have a surprise, Jess!” her mom said, her cheeks looking like they might explode. She was standing in the kitchen doorway, with Steve, beaming. He had his arm behind her waist and his hand was cupping her bottom. Gross. Marie’s chubby face poked from around them. She wore a devious expression. Jessie’s heart sank. This can’t be good…wait…no…NO!
She knew it before they could say it. She was going to be stuck with these two forever. Karen and Steve were…
“We’re getting married!” her mother shouted, then she turned and made out with Steve. Steve’s hands slithered all over her back and bottom. Marie stood behind them, her hands clasped together under her chin, a horrible grimace plastered on her ugly face.
Jessie ran into her room and slammed the door. She jumped onto her bed and screamed into her pillow. “No no no no no!”
Over and over again, the words repeated in her head, “We’re getting married!” “We’re getting married!”