The impossible bookshop

Prompt: Your protagonist has stepped into a shop that weaves magic into its wares. What happens next?

It was one of those moments where Brianna knew she was dreaming, but was still too firmly in sleep’s grasp to pull herself out. 

She was walking down the streets of New York City. And, despite never having been there before, she knew that it was the Big Apple, in that way you always do in dreams.  

It was a hot summer day in the busy city and Brianna could feel the sweat beading underneath where her ponytail lay against the nape of her neck.

She shivered in revulsion as she felt it drip down her spine, then paused to admire just how realistic this dream sequence had become.

Buildings passed her by in a constant stream. Several offices, a drugstore, a bodega and an apartment building that stood much shorter than the high rises she had expected to see. 

And then one shop front in particular caught her eye, the sunlight striking the window in such a way it reflected right into her eyes. Brianna had to blink profusely before being able to take it in. It was a bookshop, tucked in between a cafe and a dry cleaners, so small it felt like it had been squashed in there at the last moment. Brianna imagined that they hadn’t been able to fit very many shelves in there. 

But, bibliophile that she was, she was unmistakably drawn to it. Who could ever turn down a visit to a book store? And in her opinion, the weirder and quirkier the better. Her strappy sandaled feet were already pounding the sidewalk to the door. A wave of excitement ran through her as she turned the handle, thinking about the books that awaited her inside.

A bell tinkled overhead as Brianna stepped inside. The room that awaited her was much bigger than it had appeared from the sidewalk and seemed to have a much rounder shape than its facade suggested. She inhaled a little gasp, taking it all in. It was as dingy as she had imagined, dimly lit by two electric lamps that looked like they were on their last legs. Floor to ceiling shelves that had been crammed with books lined the walls. The walls seemed to taper off to form a long hallway that Brianna couldn’t quite see the end of. 

It seemed she was the only one here, there had been no movement after the bell had heralded her arrival. Brianna shrugged, figuring that for the shop to be open there must be someone here and that they would come out eventually to greet her.

For the meantime, the store and its glorious shelves were hers to browse. 

The books were a mixture of hardback and paperback, old and new. They didn’t seem to be organised in any sort of way that made sense to Brianna.

It took her another moment to realise that she didn’t recognise any of the works on the shelves. Not only that, she didn’t understand them, either. The titles were all written in characters from a language she’d never seen before. 

She scanned every shelf for any book that might have a word or even a letter in English, tracing her finger along the spines and kicking up dust as she did so. Brianna continued like this for several minutes, until, in the middle of the bookshelf diagonal from the door, she paused, her eyes finally alighting on a book with an English title. 

‘Finally’, she breathed quietly, pulling the book from the shelf and stirring up another dust cloud as she did. It was bound with a plain black cover and spine, the title and author printed in white text on the front:

New York and the occult: a history lesson by Jacbob Monclair.

Brianna paused. She knew that name. “Professor Jacob?” She murmured, confused, flicking through the book to ‘about the author’ page:

World-renowned academic Jacob Monclair is a professor of history at the University of Texas. This book delves into the history of New York City and investigates significant theories and reports of occult happenings.

It was indeed her Jacob. He had been a guest lecturer for a year during her time studying history at the University of Minnesota. Not only was he the academic that everyone in the history world revered, he was also a total dreamboat - rather unusual for history professors. She’d developed a massive crush on him and had spent that year wistfully hanging off his every word.

But Brianna hadn’t thought about him since she’d left university well over five years ago. Besides, she was married now. 

The study of the occult aside, it struck her as odd that Jacob would be writing about New York. His work had always focused on Texas and the southern states. Had he just decided to broaden his horizons?

Further down the page, Brianna caught sight of the publication date: July 2017.

She almost dropped the book. How could that be when the year, last she checked, was 2013? 

A nagging voice in the back of her head reminded Brianna that this was a dream. It doesn’t have to make sense. 

She still had the book clutched in her hand when a noise behind her caught her attention. Brianna turned on her heel to see a tall thin man in a long brown coat standing behind her, slightly blocking her view of the door and the stream of sunlight through the grimy window. 

Brianna figured he must be the owner, or at least, shop assistant.

He said nothing, just inclined his head and smiled at her. It was a smile that was both kindly and disconcerting all at once.

Brianna felt herself smile weakly back and squeak out a greeting. In return, he held out a book. At this angle, she couldn’t see much of it, just that it had a plain white cover with something in yellow on it - words or pictures, it was hard to tell.

Brianna reached out to take the book and just as her hands brushed the spine, she opened her eyes.

*****

That morning, Brianna’s newspaper was delivered at four minutes past eight, the same way it was every day. But, when she picked up her copy of the New York Times, she thought to herself, ‘Huh, that’s funny. We don’t normally get that here in Nashwauk.’

There was no sign of the usual local, the Scenic Range News. Just this one. Brianna took a deep breath and closed the door to the house. Then she looked at the paper, holding it at arms length, in case it might what? Bite her? Brianna wasn’t sure what she was actually afraid of. It was just a newspaper after all. What’s the worst it could do? Give her a paper cut?

Still her hands trembled as she took in the front page. She wasn’t hallucinating - this was indeed today’s edition of the New York Times. 

She was suddenly gripped by the eeriness of this paper showing up on her doorstep as memories of last night’s dream crashed over her. 

Could it be some sort of mistake? Was there a New York expat in town who got the Times delivered here to keep up with their old home? Was that even possible? Maybe they had her paper and she had theirs. But she knew all of their neighbours along this street, and all were born and bred in Nashwauk. Many of them probably hadn’t ever been to New York before. 

Brianna cast her mind to the people she’d met recently at the Nashwauk City Hall where she worked, trying to remember if there had been anyone new in town. There had been plenty of visitors in the last week or so, but no one from New York.

She’d given them her signature welcome to Nashwauk spiel and history lesson, of course. Who could ever forget to share the tidbit that this tiny town once had 21 saloons in the days of cowboys and the Wild West? 

Brianna had to admit this wasn’t the life she’d imagined when she set off to study history. Sometimes she caught herself at her desk, drifting off with fantasies of delving through records in an old library or exploring the ruins of old castles.

It took Brianna a moment to realise that she had totally forgotten about the rogue newspaper. She started to flick through it, then stopped abruptly somewhere near the middle as her eyes noticed something on the page that wasn’t newspaper ink. On top of an article about golf was a message that been scrawled in a dark marker pen. 

127 E 10th St, New York. Meet me there.

Brianna’s brow furrowed. Now, this was curious.

Footsteps from elsewhere in the house drew her attention and in a fit of panic she tossed the newspaper into the umbrella stand by the door as she turned to the hallway opening.

Her husband walked in, fixing his tie around the collar of his shirt as he did so. His name was Theodore, but no one ever called him that, not even his parents. As long as Brianna had known him, he’d gone by Teddy.

“Morning love. Is that the paper?” He asked, throwing her a wide grin.

“Uh-” she paused for a beat too long, “no, it hasn’t arrived yet.”

Teddy’s expression puzzled momentarily before settling back into its grin.

“Oh, I thought I heard something.”

“I know, me too. Weird, it’s never once been late before,” Brianna gabbled. 

“Ah well, I’m sure it will turn up,” Teddy said as he continued walking towards her. “I’ll be off soon. Unfortunately, as much as I would love to stay here with my beautiful wife, the world of finance waits for no one.”

She laughed at him, loving the way he still made her feel giggly like he had when they were teenagers. 

“That’s okay, I have to be off to City Hall soon anyway. Can’t wait to tell more people about cowboys!”

He gave her a squeeze and peck on the lips as she helped him finish off the tie. 

“Thanks love,” Teddy grinned again. “Remember, everyday can be an adventure, you just have to choose to make it one.” 

Brianna laughed again, then they said their goodbyes and Teddy strode out the door. Brianna waved until he was out of view, then closed the door and peered over towards the newspaper where it was nestled in the umbrella stand. 

She gingerly picked it back up and opened it to the page of the hand-written note. 

It was definitely a message, but without it being addressed to anyone, could Brianna be sure it wasn’t for Teddy? Could this just be a coincidence? Maybe. But what if it wasn’t, and this was her chance to realise the dreams that had been replaying on a loop in her brain?

She had never so much as left the state of Minnesota before and here she was gearing up to skip work and get on a plane to New York City. 

She knew it sounded insane. But something deep inside her didn’t want to let this pass by. Someone wanted her in New York City and while she didn’t know what for, she was determined to be there. If nothing happened, she told herself, she would come straight back home.

***

Brianna had booked the earliest flight she could to New York City, then scrawled a note to Teddy and left it on the kitchen counter - something about a long-lost cousin who needed her help out of state. She had also left a garbled message on the Nashwauk City Hall answer machine, explaining her absence for today. 

And as she sat on the plane, waiting for take off, Brianna hoped her nonsensical messages would buy her enough time to see this plan through.

When she arrived in New York, she hailed a cab, giving the driver the address from the paper.

Travelling during rush-hour traffic meant it took double the amount of time to get there than it should have, and when the car finally stopped, Brianna hauled herself out of the stuffy taxi and into the fresh air gratefully.

The street where she was now standing looked just like any other. A bodega here, a drugstore there. Brianna walked the sidewalk until she reached number 127.

It was a cramped, narrow shopfront - one that Brianna immediately recognised as the bookstore from her dream. 

She gulped, not quite believing what was happening. The adrenaline was pumping through her body, fuelled by a mixture of fear and excitement. Brianna had never been particularly superstitious but she had been drawn here for a reason and she was dying to find out why.

Brianna turned the handle and walked inside the shop, hearing the bell tinkle overhead as she did. Once again she marveled at how a space that looked so narrow from the outside could contain something so much bigger. 

Again, the shop seemed to be empty. Brianna was anxious that she was still yet to encounter the thin man from her dream, but she was curious too. She wanted to know what he had been about to hand her. To distract herself, she began browsing the shelves, finding to her pleasant surprise that the books were all printed in languages she recognised. 

When Brianna reached the spot where she had previously found Jacob’s book, she let out an involuntary gasp. She drew it from the shelf to see it was the same one from her dream, with a publication date that still said 2017.

It was at this moment that her curiosity fell away to be replaced with fear, as she realised just how eerie this all was. She had only just noticed that the store had a strange energy to it that was making her feel uneasy, like she was standing on a precipice.

There was something else that she couldn’t quite place, but it was almost like the books were talking to her? The room felt like it was filled with whispers that were just a bit too quiet for her to discern. But, somehow, Briana knew they were talking to her, the constant stream of dialogue making her feel like the books wanted her.

Then, Brianna heard a noise behind her. She spun on her heel in a flurry of panic, but instead of seeing the tall thin man, it was -

“Professor Jacob?” She gasped at the man who had just stepped through the door. He looked just as she remembered him, except his light brown hair was now flecked with grey. He looked slightly dishevelled, in a crumpled short sleeved white shirt and grey linen pants. 

At the sound of his name he looked at her sharply: “Who are you? And what do you want?” he barked. 

But Brianna was not listening. Instead, her gaze was flicking repeatedly between the book in her hand and its soon-to-be author standing before her. 

“Your name is on this book,” she managed to get out. When all he did was glare at her, she shoved the book in his face.

“New York and the occult?” He drawled in his strong southern accent. “That doesn’t sound like something I’d write. Is there another Jacob Monclair out there?”

Brianna wordlessly flicked to the page with Jacob’s photo on it and it was his turn to gasp as he stared down at his own image and the publication date that was still four years in the future.

“How can this be? Is this some kind of joke?” This time his questions were directed at Brianna, almost accusatory. 

“Don’t ask me,” she replied in a small voice. “I know just as much, or as little, as you do.”

Jacob eyed her suspiciously: “Were you the one that asked me here, little lady?”

Brianna shook her head: “I’m only here because of that dream and that stupid message in my newspaper.”

At that last bit, Jacob froze. “You… received a message in your newspaper too?” 

Brianna nodded and was about to respond when they heard the sound of someone entering the room, this time from the hallway. It was the tall thin man Brianna had seen in her dream.

He still had that kind, yet disconcerting smile on his face, and while nothing about him seemed malicious, every fibre in Brianna’s body was screaming at her to run. 

She took a deep breath and tried to stay calm as Jacob greeted the man in a stern voice. 

Again, the man said nothing, instead just held out a small white book towards them. Brianna no longer had any desire to know what it was or what it contained.

“Jacob, we should go,” she said through gritted teeth. The professor nodded, not taking his eyes off the man. She threaded her fingers through his, and turned for the door.

Except that it was now gone. 

Wide-eyed, Brianna turned back to see that the store had also changed, the wide circular walls had closed in around them, now matching the cramped narrow outlook of the shop’s facade. 

The man finally spoke in a voice that was high-pitched and lilting: “I’m sorry it had to be done like this. But time is of the essence.”

He crossed the floor to stand before them and pressed the small white book into their hands. Despite willing herself not to look, she immediately did, as did Jacob. The only thing on the cover was a symbol inscribed in yellow ink.

Brianna felt a wave of cold dread wash over her as the eerie whispers she had heard earlier from the books rose to a harsh chatter. The thin man put a hand to both their faces, a gentle caress, as he said softly; “Finally. We’ve been waiting for you. Theodore will be so happy.”