The Hidden Storybook // Short Story

The Hidden Storybook

Deep within these many stories never told, these many story books upon the shelves in that old library, these many words that have yet to be spoken, there is this one. This one story was always sworn to kept secret and the book was hidden from my brother and I whenever we visited my grandmother’s home. Whenever it be brought up in conversation, the subject would switch as if this story were never important, but I have always had the strongest feeling it was and will be in our future. My grandmother’s house was found away from town and at the end of a very peaceful and secluded nature path. She loved the quiet and the serenity within it. This room, the library. It’s walls plastered with old faded wallpaper, bookshelves that lined the walls and stocked with so many books of all genres. Old books that have been read, piled up on the floor near her favorite couch where she would always read us fantasy stories to help us sleep. This one book stood at the very top of the bookshelf. It had a rustic-like look to it, yet it still glistened in the sunlight whenever the sun smiled down upon the world and peeked through our window. I felt gravitated towards it, like I had to read it. Yet everytime I had tried, something was stopping me from doing so. 

    Deep within these conversations never had, I felt I needed to find for myself just what was being hidden from us all. What was there to hide after all, it was just a book right? So, when everyone was settling to sleep I decided to venture into the library and use the sliding ladder to climb up to the book. As I climbed up the ladder, each step I felt more and more anxious to be able to finally open that book and see what it entailed. As my feet reached each step individually, I was getting closer and closer to figuring out a mystery for the past 16 years of my life. I got to the final step before I could reach up and grab the book for myself, and that was when guilt settled in. What if what was inside of this book would leave a mark on my internal self? What if it was meant to be kept secret because it was a danger? I shook these thoughts off and grabbed the book. I hopped off the ladder, ran to my grandmother’s couch, and took a seat. I smiled and felt an overwhelming sense of gratification that I had the chance to do what I was just about to do. I flipped open the pages and found an indented space where something could be hidden. In that space, a mirror. This mirror was a small handheld mirror, its rim a very chipped and faded white. Descriptive in which its rims were very detailed and mideival-looking. Although it looked quite dated and used, the mirror glass itself had no sprains or damage done to it. So many thoughts ran through my mind. What was a mirror doing inside of this book? Why was it stowed away here of all places? Why was this simple mirror what my grandmother had been keeping hidden for so long? My mind was racing, but I still stood relentless and decided to pick it up. 

    Deep within that mirror, I watched as my reflection looked back at me. I could see something different about myself and it was driving me crazy trying to find what it was. I stared deeper into this mirror to find that my reflection had been slowly fading! I couldn’t take my eyes off of this mirror. As I continued to stare at my fading reflection, I had felt like everything around my was fading as well. Yet even with this confusion and what seemed like a loss of reality, I could not take my eyes off of this mirror. My body began to shake and I lost sense of feeling. It was at this moment where I saw my reflection totally fade into the mirror. My eyes moved away from it, and I saw I was no longer sitting on that couch in my grandmother’s library. I had been transported to a forest, a place I never seen before. This forest looked so fantasy-like. Like the ones my grandmother would always describe in the stories she read to us. I look around as the trees glisten and they multiply as my head turns. I was sitting on a mossy tree log. The sun was setting and was shining through the spaces between the tree branches making everything it touched a warm golden tint. The grass looked so fresh and crisp beneath my feet. There was no one else around me. I hear the soft sound of birds chirping and singing a melody in the distance. I was scared. Was I ever going to be able to make it out of here? Was I in danger? How do I go home? It all crowded the space in my mind and I couldn’t get my mind off of these thoughts. How was I to escape this different reality? I decided to get up and look around. Each step I took, my thoughts got louder and louder. This path began to look just like my grandmothers as I began to continue onward. I saw the same path we would walk together on to listen to the water as it trickled down the stream. I saw the same tree we would hang our suncatchers on. The same ground that we would play on when we were kids. I became so confused if where I was was real. Am I dreaming? 

    Before I knew it I had attained the worst headache. All these thoughts and this situation was so overwhelming to me. I began to doubt reality or if I was ever really in it at all to begin with. I miss everyone. I became very upset and dropped to the ground. The ground felt so warm, just like the warmth of my grandmothers hugs. I felt tears begin to stream down my face. I wanted to go back, anything to go back and see their smiling faces and to hug my grandmother and brother. I had only lived with them to begin with anyways. At this point I would do anything to go home and be with them again. Why did I pick up the book? Why did I go against what my grandmother told me? I lay there as the moon began to rise and shine its light through the trees. How the stars began to appear and radiate their energy and light down upon me as I lay there on the ground that grew cold. I roll over and start digging through the dirt. Where had the warmth gone? I felt like they were still with me with that warmth, and now I lay in the cold dirt. I stop digging, mentally and physically exhausted. What have I done? I felt so attatched to the ground because it gave me what I loved, the reminder my grandmother may have been with me in some way. I felt that fading feeling again. That strange feeling of leaving. Was I finally going back? 

    This fading feeling grew stronger and stronger as the seconds passed. I clung to the ground under the moonlight. The tears kept streaming down my face. I ungrasp the ground and watch as the dirt spills out of my hands. I felt hopeless. Although this place seemed so familiar to me, I didn’t feel physically at home anymore. I felt so exhausted so I decided to try to calm down and try to sleep. I get up and wander deeper into the forest with the guiding light of the moon. I wander through and end up at what I thought was a dead end. I looked to my right and there was nothing but trees and brush. I looked to my left and I saw a small narrow path. An owl was heard in the distance. I start walking down towards this path and with each step I took I felt lighter and lighter. I felt so light I had been lifted off the ground and began levitating against the surface. I felt the same numbness I had before in my grandmothers couch all throughout my body. I was still being pulled towards this path and when I finally got towards it I had walked straight through what seemed like a wall. That wall was what I thought was the path, the direction in which I was headed! What was going on?! On the other side of that wall was the library. My grandmother’s library. I’d finally made it back home! Does this mean I am safe and home and everything is normal? I decided to go to my room and sleep. 

    That morning after all of this occurred took a very strong toll on my body and my sense of reality. However, I never got back the feeling of being lost, grief, and numbness. I make my bed and go out to the kitchen to see if my grandmother and brother have started breakfast yet. When I got there, I saw them in tears. The book I had opened was left open on the kitchen table and there was my grandmother holding the mirror, the broken mirror. It had been shattered and it’s pieces leaving a trail to the library. I was left with no words, but only the tears that began to pour down my face as I finally realized where I was. I began to scream for my grandmother and brother from the kitchen door, yet none of them heard me. They were left heartbroken. I was left feeling so guilty and in so much pain for the life I had lost. If only I paid attention and followed instructions. I let myself get to me, deep within that storybook.