“Reading room?” Serene asked. “The house is only two stories. This is like, three. How is that possible?”
The man smiled, “Well, they say that libraries are the tallest buildings in the world.”
“Yeah, because it has so many stories. I’ve heard that one.” She looked around again, still in awe at the sheer size of the room.
“Your book is here.” The man stepped aside to reveal a small pedestal with a book on it. Engraved on the cover was Serene’s Story: Not as boring as she thought.
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Serene walked up to the book and chuckled. “This is some kind of joke isn’t it?” She turned to the man and gasped. There was no one there. The room was suddenly smaller. Much smaller. What was several stories just a moment ago was now barely twelve feet high. The vast room had become no larger than an average bedroom. The meager shelves that remained were bare and covered in dust and cobwebs. The chairs were barely recognizable as chairs.
She looked at the pedestal with her book on it, covered in dust, and found it open. She blew away what dust she could, wiping some of the more persistent dirt away with her hand. She began reading and stepped back.
It was her childhood, written from someone else’s perspective. How she had spent most of her time reading and shying away from everyone. She hid herself in her books. She read in her closet when the fighting started. Her childhood and teenage years were spent trying to escape the reality of her life.
She stepped forward and continued to read, turning page after page of details of her past. Even her thoughts and feelings were written on the paper. With each word, memories came flooding back. Memories she never wanted to face ever again.
She slammed the book closed.
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“You’re sick!” She yelled at the ceiling. “This isn’t funny.” She turned to storm out the door she came from, but there was no door. Only a wall. She turned around and noticed that there were only walls. No shelves. No furniture. No pedestal and no book.
“You’d think I’d be used to it by now.” She spoke softly as she moved across the room. “Things popping up and vanishing like that.” She chuckled, “I’m in a mad house or I’m going mad. I’m getting mad, that’s for sure. How the hell do I get out of here?”
She crossed the room and found a door on the other side. The door resisted at first, but she wasn’t going to get trapped in a room that was or wasn’t or… She used her shoulder to help force the door open.
Serene took a few steps and noticed a banister. She leaned over it, being careful not to put any weight on it in case it wasn’t really there. She could see the hallway below her, the one that led to the kitchen. She could see the front door, her way out. As she stepped over and stood at the top of the stairs she noticed something that made her stop.
When she arrived at the house, the staircase was covered in dust. Untouched for an unknown amount of time. Perhaps years. Now, there were footsteps leading down. On a hunch, she carefully compared her shoe size to the shoe print in the dust. An exact match.
Even the treads, she checked, were the same. She took a step back and tried to figure out how that was possible. Shaking off the possible and impossible, she decided there had to be a different way.
Then she heard footsteps. Someone running. She could hear the heavy breathing. She pushed herself up against the wall to hide herself from whoever was coming down the hall. She held her breath for a moment.
Then she heard footsteps starting to move away. She peered over the banister just in time to see someone returning to the hallway. There was something familiar about the figure that she saw.
Someone else was in the house and she had to find out who. She started down the stairs, afraid to call out in case the other person wasn’t so friendly. Serene would watch them first, then decide.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs she turned and noticed something. There were no new shoe prints in the dust. Even though she didn’t pay any attention to where she stepped. There should have been two sets but there was only one. She stared at them, confused. Another nonsensical feature of a house that made no sense.
Micheal D. Woodruff, Author of “Dismantling the Stigmas: 10 Truths about ADHD”.
As a late-diagnosed neurodivergent, Micheal has had to come face to face with the realities, difficulties, and advantages that are related to Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. He is certified in Unlocking Your Potential with ADHD. He also hosts the podcast “The Eclectic Writer” available on Spotify, Audible, Amazon Music, YouTube music, and many more places.
