Walking to the library with the little boy she babysat was always something Claire dreaded. He would always take hours to pick out one book, and by the time they returned, his parents would be picking him up and she would have to start dinner, eliminating any free-time. On any ordinary day, Claire would look through one row of books, give up, and go to help Liam. But today something actually caught her eye.
Pushing a strand of her fiery orange hair behind her ear, the girl reached out and pulled the book off the shelf. It looked quite odd. She saw no title anywhere, and the cover was decorated only by the pattern of green vines and leaves. She rubbed her right hand against the design, cocking her head in confusion. How hadn't she noticed this before? She looked down the same shelves every Tuesday when they came.
"I reckon you put that back," said an old voice from behind her. Claire spun around, and was met with Mr. Linden's wrinkles face. She kept a firm grip, waiting for the man to explain. But instead, he just turned and walked the other way. Her hold on the book loosened slightly as she watched him walk off.
"Talk about crazy," the teenager mumbled, walking off to find Liam, the mysterious patterned book still in her hand.
To Claire's surprise, Liam had picked a book a lot faster than normal. She took up his picture book, as well as the designed book she had found to the check-out desk. The lady sitting behind the aforementioned desk didn't say a word about the book, which drove Claire to her initial reside to Mr. Linden's warning; crazy.
The clock tucked slower than ever as Claire waited for Liam's parents to come and release her from this endless afternoon of Barney and picture books. It was as if her own book was calling for her, because until Liam left at 6 o'clock, she couldn't think of anything else, but getting her hands on it and reading. Not even once did Mr. Linden's warning cross her mind.
———
It was stupid. All the hype Claire had built up inside of her to read this book was wasted on words she couldn't even understand. Russian, German, Hieroglyphics . . . she didn't know. She just knew that his book certainly was not written in English.
At least three hours of her night had been dedicated to trying to decipher this writing. Flipping through pages, even attempting to recite some of them out loud. Maybe Mr. Linden's warning wasn't crazy after all. Maybe he just knew how pointless this book was.
———
The girl had opened the book. Mr. Linden knew it when he felt the odd sensation spread over him. He'd felt it many times before. Too many times. He knew there wasn't much time now. If the girl was able to see the book, it wouldn't be too long before she was able to read its pages. He felt the sensation inside him grow, and that's when he knew he had to hurry.
Finding her was the easiest part. As the sensation built, so did his link to the book. It called him forward, as it was meant to do. But unlike the redhead whom he was saving, Mr. Linden knew how to block the magic of the book out. How to not fall for its glamor.
He could see the glow from a block away. As he got closer, the glow brightened, and he could tell what had been done.
The girl had casted a spell.
———
Vines had grown out of the book. They covered the teenagers walls, her furniture, her floor . . . and there in the middle of the mess, was Claire Greer tangled up in the vines. As if the book sensed Mr. Linden at the doorway, the vines stopped growing and it's glowing was now very minimum.
It had gone too far. He knew that something like this would happen, just not so fast. If he was faster, Mr. Linden could've saved the girl.
He had warned her not to take the book. Now it was too late.
