Chapter One: Mirror in the Attic
As sunlight filters through a glass window, it illuminates an attic and casts its glow upon a square figure discreetly concealed under a cloth. Layers of dust and cobwebs blanket the surroundings, undisturbed until a gentle shaking accompanies the lowering of a ladder from the floor below.
An elderly man, his hair silvered with age, peeks his head into the attic, revealing his presence. He switches on a flashlight, casting its beam across the room before fully ascending up making sure to be careful where he placed his feet.
Glancing back down the ladder, he beckons, “Join me up here and explore. Take a careful step, mind you, as I’d rather not deal with a patched-up ceiling.”
A younger man climbs up the ladder, “Alright Grandpa, I’ll be careful. I just wanna see if there is anything I can use for the library.”
The younger man steps into the attic, his eyes adjusting to the dimly lit space. The flickering beam of the flashlight revealed dilapidated cardboard boxes and weathered furniture that lined the attic’s perimeter.
His curiosity piqued, the young man knelt down beside the nearest cardboard box. With cautious hands, he opened it revealing yellowed photographs, vintage postcards, and handwritten letters with delicate ribbons attached.
Each item within the box whispered stories of his grandfather’s past, offering glimpses into a different era and a life lived before his own. Choosing to respect the privacy of those memories and not delve any deeper, he moved on to another box. This one primarily held worn books, that pertained to fairytales.
Among the collection of fairytale books, the lighthearted and heartwarming tales of Little Red Riding Hood, The Little Mermaid, Snow White, and Beauty and the Beast adorned the pages, bringing a sense of joy and wonder.
Yet, nestled amidst them, a contrasting selection awaited discovery. Bluebeard, The Pied Piper of Hamelin, The Snow Queen, and The Juniper Tree beckoned from the shadows, showcasing the darker side of fairytales within the depths of the box.
He grasps The Pied Piper of Hamelin and takes it out of the box feeling its weight and texture in his hands. Tracing his hand across its embossed cover of a man holding a flute. Opening the book, a faint scent of aged paper and ink filled the air.
Closing the book, he put it back in the box satisfied that these books would be great for his library. He continued on to more cardboard boxes and the ones containing literature were brought down the ladder. Encyclopedias, old fictions, dictionaries, biographies, and more fairytales filled a few boxes put at the bottom of the ladder.
With the cardboard boxes out of the way, his gaze naturally fell upon the square figure discreetly concealed under a close across the attic. The sunlight bathed it in a soft golden glow, and it beckoned to him.
His outstretched hand grasped a corner of the cloth and with a slight tug, it revealed a tall mirror. Its height almost reaches the ceiling, and the surface is well polished reflecting the surrounding attic in vivid detail. Overall it was quite plain, but its four corners were delicately engraved with the intricate design of feathers that helped draw eyes.
The longer he gazed at the mirror, the brighter his own reflection seemed, but within his bright glow near his chest held an area he could tell was noticeably darker.
A call from below startled him and his gaze tore away from the mirror, and its mesmerizing hold. His grandfather’s voice echoed throughout the attic.
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“Hey, are you alright up there? I haven’t heard anything in a while.” His grandfather called out, concern lacing his words.
Shaking his head a bit, the young man replied, “Yeah gramps, I’m fine! Just got lost in my own thoughts for a bit.”
“Alright, just making sure. You see anything else you wanna take?” his grandfather responded
“Actually yeah, can I take this mirror you got up here?” The young man asks
His grandfather took a second to ponder and then agreed. “Mirror? Oh yes, that mirror. It was your great uncle’s, I’m sure he’d be fine with you having it. It’d be better in your library out in the open than stashed away in my attic. Need help bringing it down.”
The young man smiled at his grandfather's response. "Thank you, Grandpa. I think it would be a wonderful addition to my library. And yes, some help would be great, it's quite tall."
His grandfather nodded and carefully made his way up the ladder, joining his grandson in the attic once again. Together, they worked to carefully lift the tall mirror and maneuver it down the ladder, taking extra precautions to prevent any damage.
As they reached the floor below, they set the mirror down gently, its reflective surface gleaming in the sunlight. The young man couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of curiosity and intrigue as he looked at the mirror once more.
"It's plain, but there's something strangely captivating about it," the young man remarked, running his fingers along the feather engravings on the mirror's corners.
His grandfather nodded in agreement. "Yes, it may not be the most ornate piece, but sometimes simplicity holds its own kind of beauty. And that mirror has a certain aura about it, doesn't it?"
The young man nodded, captivated by his grandfather's words. "Indeed, there's an air of mystery surrounding it. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I feel drawn to this mirror."
His grandfather smiled knowingly. "Sometimes objects have a way of carrying stories and memories within them. Perhaps this mirror has witnessed many tales throughout the years. It'll be an intriguing addition to your library, my boy."
With a shared sense of excitement, they carefully carried the mirror into the young man's truck, making sure to secure it safely after packing away all the cardboard boxes.
After everything was loaded into the truck, the young man turned to his grandfather, a bittersweet smile on his face. He wrapped his arms around the elderly man, embracing him tightly.
"Thank you, Grandpa, for all your love and support. I couldn't have done this without you," he said, his voice filled with gratitude.
His grandfather returned the hug, patting his grandson's back affectionately. "You've always been a source of pride for me, my boy. I know you'll do great things with your library. Just remember to cherish the stories within those books and let your imagination soar."
They held onto each other for a moment longer before reluctantly pulling away. The young man wiped away a tear that had escaped his eye, promising himself that he would make his grandfather proud.
With one last look back, he climbed into the truck and started the engine. As he drove away, the sun began to set, casting a warm, golden glow on the landscape. The road stretched out before him, leading him to his new home, his own sanctuary of knowledge.
Hours passed, and as the clock neared midnight, his truck pulled up to an old and tall building near the town center. The words "Charles Library" adorned a sign above the entrance, illuminated by a flickering street lamp.
Charles unloaded the remaining boxes and furniture from his truck, carefully carrying them inside the library near the entrance. Once inside, he turned the key in the front doors, securing the library for the night. The quietness of the space enveloped him, and ascending the stairs to his room, he reached the top floor where a cozy space awaited him.
In one corner, an air mattress lay on the floor, ready to offer temporary comfort until a more permanent bed would find its place. The room was a blank canvas, eagerly awaiting his personal touch.
He sat on the edge of the air mattress, taking a moment to soak in the ambiance of his new room. The moonlight seeped through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on the shelves that would soon be filled with stories.
In this tranquil solitude, he took a deep breath, he knew that there was much work to be done in the coming days. The library was his responsibility, and he was determined to create an inviting space for the community. He envisioned book clubs, children's story hours, and quiet corners for contemplation.
Taking off his glasses and placing them on the window sill, he allows his body to sink into the comfort of the air mattress. His own rhythmic breathing served as a lullaby, coaxing him into a peaceful slumber.
With each passing moment, the world around him faded into the background, replaced by a dreamscape painted with fragments of imagination and the whispers of literary characters. The air grew still, as if holding its breath in anticipation of the stories that would unfold within the walls of the library.
Slowly, the young man's breathing deepened, and his body succumbed to the gentle pull of sleep. His muscles relaxed, surrendering to the peaceful embrace of the night. A sense of tranquility washed over him as if the weight of the world had momentarily lifted from his shoulders.