The Selection (Not as it seems)

Not Alone

I turned around just as the pit of my stomach sank and an eeriness surrounded me like fog in the early morning. The familiar sharp pang shot through my head, and the last thing I saw was Kota rushing up to me when the dark was closing in.

And then it went black.

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Lights flash behind my closed eyelids. Silence muffles my ears as I fight to crack my eyes open.

As my eyes readjust to the newfound vibrance of the royal library, I realize I'm still on the floor. Stifling a groan of pain and rubbing my sore head, I try to stand up.

I'm not as panicked as I was last time, having seen this weird dreamlike place before. This time, though, it isn't bright and vivid. The vibrance upon waking had worn off, leaving the place dull, bleak, and still utterly eerie.

Everything about this place makes me feel off, uncomfortable. At least this time I know what to do -- or at least I think I do.

I need to find the book.

The last time I was here I had picked up the book, opened it... and then I was back. The question is... was it the book that brought me back? Some sort of defense mechanism it used to keep people stuck here from reading it? Or was I on some sort of timer, granting me a moment to understand the book by myself, void of distraction?

I stretch my legs out, stiff from falling on the hardwood of the library floor, and make my way to the shelves. The stool is already there, already waiting for me when I get to the aisle where the book had fallen last time.

I scan the shelves from the height of the stool, trying to find that familiar book's leather bridge. It's not here though. As I scan and rescan and rescan the feeling of dread makes a home in my stomach.

It's

not

here.

I hop down from the stool, ankle miraculously healed from whatever phenomenon that exists in this place, and start walking up and down the other aisles. My eyes sweep over every book a few times, making sure I don't accidentally look past it.

I'm so focused on finding it that I almost missed the shadow passing in the corner of my eye. Almost.

That was my imagination... right? Yeah, it had to be.

Clank.

A book fell off of a nearby shelf, but this time hope does not spark in my veins. Instead, the dread in my stomach turns leaden. The panic that had been absent before now rushes in my veins as I hear more books make contact with the floor. More and more, now sounding aggravated, aggressive.

I was not alone. Not this time.

The clatter of the books gets closer until the sound comes from the aisle next to me when I decided I'd rather not be here when the 'figment of my imagination' turns their wrath on my aisle. Bunching up the white fabric of my dress -- always a white dress when I'm here, despite being in a dusty blue one outside of this scape -- I sprint towards the grand library doors.

It bursts open loudly, and as I run down the hall I can't help but note that the sound of falling books ceased. I make an effort to run faster.

Where do I go? I can't run forever.

Suddenly, my thoughts shift.

Why do I even need to run? If this really is all a dream, all a coma-induced fantasy brought on by whatever's wrong with me, then why do I need to run from it? 'Don't be a coward, America' the voice in my head whispered.

So I stopped short of the Great Hall, putting my hands on my knees to catch my breath.

I straighten my back as soon as I stop panting, turning around to face the shadow tracking me.

But no one was there.

I was only allowed a moment of confusion before a shadowy hand grasped my throat from behind.

I awoke with a start.

Panting and sweating on one of Dr. Ashlar's cots, the ghost of those bony fingers still lingers around my throat. I lift my own hand to it as if reassuring myself that the hand is gone. After a moment, I slump against my cot.

The moonlight shone through the windows, telling me I'd been out for at least a few hours. The thought worries me. I really need to get my body under control, lest I pass out again. Sweeping my eyes across the room to scan for more lethal shadows, I spot Georgia sitting in a nearby chair.

She breathes lightly, in the throes of sleep. Looking to my nearby bedtable, I find rolled up gauze and throw it at her. She awakes startled, jumping to her feet, body on full defense mode. Her eyes catch mine, relief flitting in and out at my conscious form.

"God, America," she places a dramatic hand over her heart, "you scared the crap out of me."

I shrugged. "You were asleep." I try to keep my voice casual, both of us ignoring the real meaning behind the loaded phrase. "Where's Maxon?" I ask, if only to fill the silence. I pick at a loose thread on my blanket.

"He's in a meeting." I try not to show my disappointment. She noticed anyways, "He would be here -- you know he would -- but the king had demanded his presence in this particular meeting. He wanted a report on how the castle is holding up." I sigh.

Finally, I will the question I don't want the answer to out of my mouth. "How long was I out this time?" Georgia looks at me tiredly before heaving a sigh of her own.

"Four days." I can't fight back the cringe taking form on my face. Four days. Days spent wasting away on this cot as I run from shadows and falling books in my mind. I twist my hands together to stop my fingers from fidgeting. I hate the crack in my voice when I ask "Where's Doctor Ashlar?"

"Right here." A male voice says to my right. I nearly jump out of my skin. How did he move so silently? I shook my head, clearing my thoughts, as he continued, "Did you need something, Lady America?"

"I was, uh, just wondering..." I trailed off, second-guessing my words. It probably sounded stupid, but... "Is there something wrong with me?"

An embarrassed blush immediately spread across my face at the bluntness of my question. I could see Georgia tense in the corner of my vision, eager to hear what must have been a long-awaited answer to a question she never wanted to ask. In the moonlight, her tanned face takes on a pale hue.

Doctor Ashlar gives an awkward half cough, moving to adjust his clipboard. "Well, Miss, we ran tests on you -- non-invasive I assure you -- while you were unconscious. The results came in less than an hour ago, and I still have further testing to do..."

I feel the nerves dance around in my stomach. I had never really considered something could be wrong with me until I was back in the dreamscape. I glance at Georgia anxiously, and she returns it with a weak smile.

Doctor Ashlar flips through his pages, "Yes, I still have testing to do, however, I suspect that you might have--" His words are cut off but unending darkness save for the dim moonlight shining through the windows.

Oh god.

A power outage.

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I'm back! Honestly never thought I would be... but here we are! First off, I'm aware that this story is basically crack taken seriously. I'm 100% on board with that. Secondly, I know it's been a while, so I'm sorry if it doesn't flow well with the last chapter -- my writing style has changed a bit since 2019 (lol). Third, and lastly, thank you all for 2.4k!! That's crazy!

I hope everything is good with you guys, enjoy your day/night.

< 3 Mari