Unhappily Never After (Neverland Archives II) (ON HOLD)

Chapter 1 | The Book of Unhappy Endings

*Video is Natalia Kills' "Wonderland", an absolutely AMAZING song*

"I'm not Snow White

But I'm lost inside this forest.

I'm not Red Rid--"

The sound of Natalia Kills' "Wonderland" suddenly blares through the almost silent area, and I jump a foot in the air before fumbling for my phone.

"Hello?!" I'm breathless, shaking a bit from the shock, and my voice is far too high for my liking--but at least I didn't drop my cell. The few people nearby shoot me dirty looks, but I just shrug as I lean back in the uncomfortable wooden chair, trying to look casual.

"Where are you?" Stacy demands, her voice screeching into my ear. I wince. "At the Library..."

"Again? You know you can just do research online, Gwen, you're so stupid sometimes."

I frown, tapping my goth-black fingernails against the table in irritation. "I like doing it this way. It gets me extra credit, too." I only add the last part to make her stop complaining; I don't actually care about the grade.

She sighs, the sound crackling through tinny speakers and making me pull the phone away from my ear for a moment. "Whatever. Are you coming?"

... coming? Coming where..? I frown, trying to remember if there was something important that I'm forgetting. I'd planned to spend the night here, studying--with a glance at the clock, I see that it's already nearly 7:00 PM. What else could I--

"You forgot, didn't you?"

"No." I say, automatically. "I just haven't remembered it yet."

Stacy lets out a small scream of frustration. "Dinner? Tonight at seven? Our once-a-month thing?"

I frown. "That's not till Friday."

"Today is Friday, Gwen!"

"What? No it isn't--" But after a second's thought, I realize that it is. Oops.

"I really need to study..." I say, trying to get out of it. I hate our once-a-month bonding thing. It's always about Stacy and her problems and her life and how I'm worthless and can't do anything right--and let's not forget that I really need to move back in with her so she doesn't have to pay the rent by herself.

"You are so not getting out of this, Gwendolyn. Get your fat butt over here right now. And I mean RIGHT. NOW. Before I come and get you!" With that, she hangs up, and I'm left sitting in a nook in the Library of Congress, eighteen books spread out around my laptop and a half-written paper--which is due tomorrow--pulled up on the screen.

I sigh. Guess I'll be up late tonight... if I sleep at all. This is what I get for procrastinating.

I stand and stretch, lifting my arms above my head with an unnecessarily long yawn. Then, resigned, I snip my laptop closed and slide it into its black, over the shoulder case. Now, to put away all these books since I don't have any way of getting them home... my shoulders slump as I remember how long it took me just to find them all.

But, there's nothing I can do about it, and at least this gives me an excuse to keep Stacy waiting.

As quickly as I can, I gather the books into my arms, until I'm holding a large, precarious stack that I can barely see past. With careful steps, I head into the winding stacks that reach all the way to the ceiling, my movements guided by the soft yellow lighting.

It takes me nearly an hour to get rid of most of the books--I turn my phone off after Stacy's fourth call, even though I feel really guilty--and by this point, my entire body aches just from holding up the books, let alone walking huge area. The Library of Congress is enormous, even though I'm only in one 'small' wing.

The last three books are all by the same author, thankfully, so it only takes me the ten minutes--of walking, between huge stacks that are all starting to look the same--to get them put away. I slide the last book into its place with a satisfying thump and breathe a deep sigh of relief. I love this place--I mean, obviously, it's a library, what's not to love?--but actually using it for research is exhausting.

Maybe I will just finish my paper by using the internet. Even though that sort of feels like cheating.

I turn away from the shelf, toward the direction from which I came, and frown. There was not a stack there before.

But maybe I got turned around and--what? I turn in a slow circle, surprised to find myself suddenly surrounded by shelves. I was surrounded before, but I was in a hallway of sorts, a stretch between shelves. Now I'm in a round, tower-like place... how did this happen? Am I truly this unobservant? I sigh, pushing strands of my dark, curly hair away from my face.

This is so frustrating.

I'm tired.

And hungry. All I want is to go home, so what--is that dust?

In all my years of living in this city, within walking distance of this library, I have never seen dust here. The janitors are top notch--they do get paid by the government after all--and I'm stunned for a moment.

There is so much dust on this shelf. It's like a giant dust mote. Where am I?

I step toward the shelf, run a finger across it just to make sure I'm not imagining things--and that's when it gets strange.

Well, stranger.

The moment I touch the shelf, everything changes. It's like I blink, and I'm back where I started, in the long hallway between two S stacks. But there's a book in my hands that wasn't there before.

It's huge, the size of one of those law books you see on judge platforms in movies, and very, very worn. Its leather cover is cracked and buckled in some places, and the pages are yellow and thick with age. Embossed atop its surface in ornate silver lettering is its title: "The Book of Unhappy Endings".

I can only gape, staring down at this strange, ancient tome in my hands. What's with the title? How cliche is that, I mean, what does it even mean?

I move to set it back on the shelf, but... something stops me. It's like a little voice at the back of my head, like when you're watching a horror film and the main character is going to open the closet, and you're screaming at them not to open the closet but they do it anyway... it's like that.

All over my body.

A feeling of anticipation, my heart beating faster, my palms getting sweaty against the worn leather cover. There's something weird about this book.

Something different, maybe even something magical.

Without thinking, almost as if I'm not the one doing it, as if someone else has taken over my body, I slide the book into the pocket of my laptop case. It seems like it should be way too big to fit, but I don't have any issues--it settles inside like it was made to be carried there, and I don't even feel its weight.

I take two steps toward the end of the bookcase, and find myself standing at the front desk. I blink mouth hanging agape, as I stare at the receptionist who just watches me with a bored expression.

Okay. I'm dreaming. This is a dream. But when I pinch myself, it hurts.

A lot.

I wince and rub the sore spot as I leave the Library of Congress, skipping quickly down the front steps. I don't have the slightest idea what's going on. Maybe it's sleep deprivation. Maybe I need more coffee. Maybe I'm just the most unobservant person on the planet.

Whatever it is... I rest a hand against my laptop case, feeling a sense of comfort as I stroke the edge of the book through the canvas material.

Whatever it is, I can't wait to find out.