Harris Burdick Inspired Post

"Mr. Linden's Library.

He had warned her about the book.

Now it was too late."

Lynn had always envied Mr. Linden's Library collection.

Reaching towards the sky, the shelves in the old scholar's humble parlor was scattered with dust, causing her to stand on the tips of her toes as she reached with her rag. More than once she could feel her fingertips brush the spines of the books. When she did, she could feel every muscle aching to reaching up and grab the old, tattered object and hide. But alas, that was only a small fantasy inside her head.

Mr. Gibbs, the head servant, rushed her, "Hurry up, girl! Before he gets back!"Reaching up to sweep some of the shelves himself, she could hear him muttering.

Lynn didn't reply, hoping not to provoke a low growl from the older man today.

As she moved from shelf to shelf, wiping her rags over the chestnut wood, she couldn't contain herself from her endless daydreams. They flowed in and out of her head, changing, spinning around her like a myriad of dancing, sparkling silhouettes. But she did get in trouble for it from time to time.

A good example being the time she was in her own world and did not hear her Aunt Corinne's instructions how to knead the pastry bread. She could still hear her Aunt's voice sharply in her thoughts. Knead! Knead! What were you doing when I was telling you all this!?

She shuddered.

Or another time when she tripped over some cats in the street bringing back some milk. Or when she was feeding the fireplace and the flames ended up trying to eat her arm. No one sent her on errands for a while after that.

Constantly she wondered about the books on the shelf in the corner of the grand hall. Lynn was forbidden from touching anything on that shelf, so naturally, being a child, her curiosities were peaked when she first heard this. Thankfully, her interest was something she could contain. She didn't have that problem. Although, she was fascinated by many things she never really had uncontrollable urges to investigate. But it was always there - tugging at the back of her mind.

She could only think about the possibility that one day she might be able to glide her fingertips across the bindings of that shelf.

She never actually considered the chance.

Lynn fluttered to and fro, shelf to shelf, wiping each and everyone carefully. A good while after Mr. Gibbs had left, she stopped dusting. She listened for approaching footsteps, the child skipping to the doorway, peeking around the corner. Alas, she was alone.

Lynn would have done a heel click then and there if she could.

Instead, she flew to the nearest shelf and pulled out the first book she saw. She studied the text carefully, playing with the hard cover. She opened the pages only to find it was also filled in layers of dust.

She remembered coming to Mr. Linden's estate with her Aunt for the first time a few months ago. One of her first instructions had always been to never touch the books in the corner of his office. But no one had prepared her for a book that literally fell to the ground, only a few feet away from her.

Lynn hesitated, unsure if she should pick it up or leave it. In her mind she contradicted what Mr. Gibbs would say to her. "Pick that book up, girl! Why are you shirking about?" or perhaps she would actually receive a praise from the older gent for her restraint. 

In her dreams.

Marching over to the mysterious book she knelt down and picked it up gently, as though it were fragile. A stolen treasure. Perhaps it is, the back of her mind theorized. Or fantasized. One or the other. She gave the forbidden shelf a once over, studying it, looking for loose crannies, the space where it fell. She hesitated, momentarily baffled by the lack of space in between.

Lynn stole a glance at the title, Saava. 

She thought, "What on earth could that mean?"

Lynn was fluent in two languages of their world - Tiberian, and the common tongue. She even knew a little bit of Isolde and Bréeil. She did not recognize this word.

Opening the cover, she felt the cover with her fingertips, careful not to harm a page. The title page was accompanied by an author whose name provided no help, Samvel. No surname at the end. 

Just a note, a note from the great Mr. Linden himself that read, "Take this advice dear reader - if you are not of Fae, read no further."

Lynn's curiosity was at it's peak now. She never expected to be able to read the words. She never expected to get lost in the pages. She never expected to take it home. She certainly never expected for her to fall asleep while carefully studying the faded text, captive to the story of Saava. No one would have expected what happened that night. Especially Lynn Beckett. 

Mr. Linden had warned the girl about the book. Now it was too late.