My world changed last week. Today it’s meant to come crashing down. It was a Sunday and just like every Sunday I’m laying in bed doing fuck all. But this Sunday in particular I had one of those self-change moments you get. Where you briefly consider changing your whole lifestyle for about a day, until you revert back to the monotony. So I went on a walk, it was a nice day so why not. I did my usual loop in the local forest. When I got about halfway, the noises started. At first, you could barely, crackles of distortion just out of earshot. Then it built, became more prevalent in the soundscape until it was all I could hear. I started to look around. I’d heard noises like this before but never in a natural setting. It was electricity, it was technology. It was a cacophony of disjointed noise, there could have been words in there but they were drowned by the garbled distortion before me. I clasped my ears, it became painful but it didn’t stop. It wasn’t the world making the noise, it was my head. I couldn’t think, it was bombarding my sense of self. I blacked out.
Next thing I know, I’m home. No noise, I’m in my bed. Everything is fine. It doesn’t feel fine. It didn’t feel like a dream at the time and I know it wasn’t one now. The clock hadn’t changed from when I “left” it was 16:54 when I left and I was staring at the same now. There was something new with me though. Sitting on my bedside table was a book. An old book, older than I’d ever seen. Made of materials I had never seen. It was leather-like but it was moving. The surface of the book was stretching and convulsing as if it was trying to escape it’s form. I hesitated to touch it but did once I read the front cover. Branded onto the front of the book was the title “Distortion: Written by Ellis Storm”. That’s me, my name, on the front of this ludicrous book. So I opened it, I regret that now. But you would have opened it too if your name was on it. I flipped through the book, pages made of what felt like fingernails. What I saw inside of it was incredibly off.
At first, it looked like words but it wasn’t. It was a mess of letters, spaces in meaningless spots- punctuation in places. It shouldn’t; be. I scanned and scanned, looking for anything that made the slightest bit of sense. Nothing did until the very end. On the last page of the book it merely said “Created in The Library Beyond Time”. This threw me, I thought it was a prank for a split second before I remembered the feeling on my hands of a squirming book cover. So I did what anyone would do. Looked up this Library on Google. There was one result and only one. That was the first red flag. The second was that it pointed me to The Library Beyond Time located at 42 Ember Lane. That was my address.
I’ll be honest with you. I freaked the fuck out. A million ideas flew through my head, all of them were stupid. I was panicking and I was scared. So I just went to leave. Clear my head. Maybe was one of those dreams within a dream I thought. The second I left my bedroom I entered a whole new world. The stars welcomed me, I stepped out and I was standing in space. A beautiful void shadowed in Andromeda. I looked back and there was no bedroom, I looked forward and now there was a man standing behind a desk.
“Miss Storm, I see you are in possession of one of my books,” The man said with a toothy smile. He was a large man, about 7ft tall with too long limbs. His hands almost reached the ground. I couldn’t see his eyes through his dark purple-tinted glasses and dangling wet hair. I couldn’t speak either, too startled from being uprooted from my reality. “I understand you are startled Miss but my time is expensive” he said with attitude. I focused up now, had to do something. “I think I have your book,” I said as I held the book out towards him. He was vacant for a moment before he smiled. “You do indeed” he slowly dragged his withered arm out towards me. The expectation was clear but I couldn’t just go without answers.
“Can you tell me what it means?” I said hesitantly, I was scared of the man. But he didn’t look annoyed. He looked almost gleeful as he straightened his posture as if getting ready for a speech. “I would love to Ellis. The book you are holding in your hands catalogues the week leading up to your death. Now you are not just any dead human. You are the start of the end. Your death is a domino effect to total annihilation. And your death comes at the hands of a being known as the distortion.” he said with a smile on his face the whole time. Tears trickled down mine as his smile faded. “How about we trade” he said as he ripped the book from my hands and handed me another. I looked at the new book, same title, same author. “This right here should be more your speed, a translated copy of your death.” My hands gripped it tightly. “See you in another time” the man snapped his fingers and disappeared, I was back in my room. My shaky hands holding my death.
I didn’t open it, I laid down in bed and just started crying. I was overwhelmed with emotion. There were two options in front of me and both of them led to my downfall. I was either clinically insane or I was dying in a week. By the time I had stopped crying, it was nighttime. So I got it over with, didn’t want my final week on this earth ruined by my own delusion or some mystery book. I started reading and it was awful. It was perfect.
It narrated my day perfectly. Described how I woke up, my morning routine and every action I took. Described my body in more detail than I could. Described my thoughts as well. It was all correct, the distortion, the blackout, the book. Even the book. My conversation with the man was perfectly transcribed. Every action I took seemingly already known. When it started describing how I cried and how I thought about ending my life, I stopped reading. What was there to gain. I don’t want to know how I die, I don’t want some stupid book from some stupid Library telling me who I am. So I put it down and ignored it. Until today.
It’s been a week now, and nothing. Nothing is mystical or miraculous. No distortions, no men in space. It has been an incredibly normal week in my life and that’s worse. The book is almost taunting me now daring me to read it. I might die in seconds, I might die as I’m writing this. At some point today I am going to die, I don’t know when. There’s been no buildup. Is it already inside me. Did I die last week and this is all some wacky bullshit from that man behind the desk. I don’t fucking know, I’m scared and I want to live. So do I read it, maybe I can change it you know. That’s why I’m here, making this post. Should I let everything play out like it’s meant to, or do I allow myself to know my future?