Chapter Two
Now it is easy to understand why I actually look forward to having my strange dreams. Not only did they seemed and felt so real but also because they were exciting and always ended in suspense. What would happen next? What exciting adventure could my subconscious mind dream up next?
So, the Dark Lady was evil.
I had known it all along, yet I felt it hard to accept it now that I had concrete proof. I felt like a part of me was the Dark Lady. I know that sounds weird but the Dark Lady was the protagonist of my dreams and it was my mind that had created her after all.
I had created an abomination in the world of Shakespeare and I didn't know why. The Dark Lady was plotting to take over my beloved world, forging an alliance with the monsters that were known as the Critics. She already had a gang of followers with Caliban, Tybalt, Iago, and Don John already on her side. Lord Claudius seemed eager to sign up for the rebellion and along with his signature would come mostly, if not all of his own personal army, whenever he murdered his brother and was crowned King of Denmark. And now, the Dark Lady would have one army by joining with the Critics and with two enormous armies, there was a strong possibility that the revolt might have a chance against the two remaining kingdoms and the free lands of Shakespeare.
But that was only if the Critics sided with the Dark Lady after she addressed their Council of Nocturne and only if Claudius managed to kill King Hamlet. This was my own version of the Shakespearean plays, so maybe Claudius would not become king in my dream world. But for some reason, I believed that the Critics would join the rebellion. I could feel the Dark Lady persuading them to do so and then her utter relief and joy once her task was completely successfully, even while visions of the dream replayed over and over again inside of my head.
I sat there in my bed for a while, thinking and reflecting on the latest dream. I couldn't believe that I was analyzing my dream so much but like I said before, it had seemed so real. I sometimes woke up like this, confusing the real world with the fantasy world. And I sometimes thought that the events in my dreams had really happened like I was truly present inside the world of Shakespeare.
I glanced over at my alarm clock. It was nearly six in the morning, so my alarm was yet to go off. I had fifteen more minutes to get some more sleep, but I was up now, so I climbed out of bed and turned the alarm clock before the blaring of it frightened me later.
Stretching, I found a bathrobe, fresh underwear, and a towel, and I shuffled to the bathroom that was immediately past the kitchen on Alice's side of the apartment. Alice was already up and about; I could hear her moving around in her room, listening to the new Coldplay CD while she got ready for school.
I took a long shower, images of my dream flashing across my mind's eye once again. Caliban stood out the most in my mind. He was a mystery to me. The way he acted around the Dark Lady caused me to suspect that he wasn't completely on her side. I didn't think that meant that he was a good guy but that he had his own intentions separate from the Dark Lady's. Perhaps it had something to do with Prospero, the leader of the King's Men, who had enslaved him in the play, The Tempest.
After my shower, I returned to my bedroom to dress quickly in one of my best outfits—a red and brown Floral Taffeta jacket with ruffle collar and brown dress pants—since I was trying to look for a job after school. Alice was in the kitchen cooking while I dressed. She was wearing one of her best outfits as well since she had a presentation in one of her classes.
I joined her for breakfast a little bit after seven and Alice noticed my outfit the moment I jammed my fork into one of my waffles.
"You're all dressed up today," Alice commented, sipping her usual steaming hot morning cup of coffee. "You got a date with Will tonight?"
I could hear the slight dejection in her voice and I felt sympathy for her. I had a steady boyfriend, who I was happy to be with and who was the love of my life, but Alice was unfortunately not as lucky as I was when it came to love. She was an extremely busy woman, who hadn't had a true boyfriend since high school. Sure, she had dated a few guys over the past six years but she just didn't have the time to make such relationships work. She was twenty-three years old and should be searching for a potential husband, not working and going to school all of the time. That was why I really wanted to find a job for Alice's sake. It pained me to see her watching Will and I together. She needed her own Will.
I shook my head in response to her inquiry and chewed my waffles before I answered her verbally. "No, I don't have a date with Will tonight; he has to work," I informed her. "And speaking of work, I am going into the city to go job hunting."
Alice smiled. She seemed really happy by my decision. "You can come to the restaurant. I can get you a job there. We need a few new hostesses."
"I would like that but I think that I am going to try and find one myself first," I said, wanting Alice to realize that the whole job hunting thing was my way of trying to tell her that I was starting to become independent. I was sixteen, two years from adulthood and the moment when Alice would no longer be my legal guardian, and I wanted to start early learning how to make my own way in society to lessen the surprises I was sure to face if I decided to go off to college somewhere far away from Alice.
"You can check out the square," Alice suggested, trying to help me out as much as I would allow her to and I was grateful for it. "There are a few shops there that are looking for help."
It was a great idea. The square would be a good place to start because Will worked there. I could swing by and see him and he could point out the places that were hiring.
Alice left immediately after breakfast to meet with her group and finalize their presentation. I washed our breakfast dishes and went to the bus stop. Melody was already there, waiting for me.
My mind was still reflecting on the latest dream episode and I barely noticed that Melody had greeted me and was babbling on and on about something. I realized after I had journeyed back to the here and now that she was excited about her new outfit because she had made it herself. Over the past year, Melody had become somewhat of a protégé to Alice, learning the craft of making clothes. It was something I could never master—Alice had been trying to teach me to sew for years—and Melody was a fast learner.
Since Melody became my best friend last year, she had helped take Alice's clothes and my unique style to the next level. In fact, she was the secondary model and let's just say that my style wasn't quite so unique anymore. A few days after Melody first adopted my fashion sense, many other girls at school started to dress like us and the trend that I had always dreaded had caught on.
For a while I didn't like it but then I quickly realized it was selfish of me to be that way. After all, Melody had turned over a new leaf and had admitted that she was one of the admirers at school who had admired my style all along. She was my new best friend and was only trying to wear the clothes that she liked, that was all. Who would have thought that she would start a fashion revolution at school? I mean, all it took was one of the former popular girls to start wearing Alice's clothes and bam, just like that, everyone wanted to wear Alice's clothes, or something similar.
Today, Melody was wearing a green jewel front dress and she looked absolutely gorgeous. That was why she was proud of her outfit and was why I needed to be a good friend and pay attention to what she was saying to me.
"Anne, are you listening?" Melody asked after pausing briefly during her excited gibbering.
I nodded, taking my mind off of my dream. "Yeah, yeah," I lied and felt horrible about it, mind you. "Yeah, I'm listening."
Melody stared at me for a moment as if she didn't believe that I was telling the truth before she smiled and rambled on. "Like I just said, it was difficult to attach the jewels to the dress with the angular cutout. It took me hours and I was up all night last Saturday creating the bodice alone. But it turned out well. I think that Alice was just as proud as I was when I was finished. She complimented me on the halter-styled neckline that crosses the shoulder to form the V-neck detail back here."
Melody spun around to show me the back of her dress. "Nice," I commented. "But don't you think that's a little too risqué for school?"
Melody turned back around and looked slightly dejected. "That's what my mom said," she admitted. "That's why I am accessorizing my dress with this lovely gray sweater."
That was when I noticed the sweater that was draped across her right arm. Geez, what was my problem? I was not very perceptive that morning.
"I just can't believe it," Melody continued to talk about her new outfit. "I am in awe, you know. I never would have thought that my first dress would have turned out so wonderful. Alice says I have a natural talent and she thinks that I might be even better than she was as a novice designer."
"That's awesome, Mel," I said to her with sincerity. I was glad that Alice had someone who she could bond with over making clothes. Aside from not having a steady boyfriend, Alice also did not have many friends. It was good for her to hang out with someone sometimes other than me.
"So, what are you doing after school today?" Melody questioned me. "I was thinking about going to the Boutique and doing some shopping. You wanna come?"
The Boutique was a privately own clothing store where a young designer, much like Alice, sold all of her unique fashions at thrift store-like prices. For years, I had been trying to talk Alice into submitting some of her designs to the owner, but she always complained that they were not good enough. And this was coming from a person whose clothes were very popular at my school.
The clothes at the Boutique were a lot like Alice's style of clothing—cute, colorful shirts, beautifully adorned skirts that were quirky and comfortable, and fashionable dresses that were a concoction of past trends and present fads. Alice's clothes would sell well there if only she would listen to me. Recently, I had gotten Melody to jump on the bandwagon of "Talk Alice into Selling Her Clothes at the Boutique". I kind of felt bad about bringing up the topic over and over again to Alice because aside from not believing that her clothes belonged on the racks in the Boutique, Alice didn't think she could actual sell her stuff. Maybe it was some unwritten rule of being a fashion designer but Alice couldn't have people pay for her clothes. They were her masterpieces and she was an artist and I knew that she would rather display her clothes in a museum than to sell them. I could understand how she felt about her works of art but I also knew that we could use the extra money that I felt she would make if she sold some of her fashions for a living.
"After school, I am going to search for my first occupation," I informed her. "That's right, I am taking a leap into the business world."
"Well, look at you," Melody said, smiling and looking me over once. "Hence the marvelous attire. Aww, my little Anne is growing up so fast."
I giggled.
"Can I come with?" Melody inquired, rocking back and forth on the heels and balls of her feet, while flashing her long and curvy eyelashes at me. "Please? Maybe I can find a job too."
I didn't have to think about it for a long time. If Melody went with me, I wouldn't be as nervous as I was sure to be about walking into places and imploringly asking if they were hiring or not. An added bonus would be that I would have company along the way as well, someone to talk to and give me suggestions about which jobs I should try to apply for. I would have Will's help of course, but he would be stuck at work himself and wouldn't be able to tag along with me. By default, Melody was the perfect choice for my companion later that afternoon.
"Sure, it'll be fun," I said. "And if we have time, we can pick up a bit to eat or swing by the Boutique."
The bus came to pick us up a few minutes later and during the ride to school, Melody and I discussed our upcoming adventure in the city square. We parted ways when we stepped off of the school bus, but before we went to homeroom, we made plans to meet outside of the school's front entrance so that we could walk down to the nearest public bus stop and utilize the transportation that the city had to offer to get us to the square.
Since we started dating, Will and I tried to sign up for all of the same classes each semester. Last semester, we were very lucky but this semester, we weren't quite as fortunate. We only had two classes together each day, which in my opinion, didn't allow for enough Will and me time. After school wasn't any better because he had gotten his job about three months ago and he worked most evenings now. Will also worked every other weekend so we didn't get to hang out as much anymore. I kind of dreaded getting a job myself because that would mean less time that we would have for each other but Alice and I needed the additional money. Will would understand completely. I just had to get used to only seeing him for two classes at school and a couple of evenings at most during the week, and of course, I could see him every other weekend unless I worked weekends too. Man, I didn't really want to think about that. It was way more complicated than it needed to be and the thought of me not being able to see Will that much was making me feel sick in the stomach. But at least I no longer felt queasy whenever I saw him, or whenever he touched me, an upgrade. I guess a year of dating had helped me in the nausea department or reversed it since now I felt sick whenever I couldn't be with Will.
The first class I had with Will this semester was immediately before lunch. It was anatomy and in today's lesson, we studied the different components of the human skull. Anatomy was usually a bore, even to someone who was as studious as I was, but Mrs. Cohen's lecture today actually held my interest for once. She had my undivided attention, which made it difficult for me to stare at my beautiful boyfriend the entire time, a habit of mine that had I had formed as of late in that particular class.
Will was interested in today's lecture as well and I didn't even have to grab his hand once to wake him up when he occasionally dozed off. After reviewing where the cranium cavity was located and blah, blah, blah—stuff that I already knew backwards and forwards—Mrs. Cohen started talking about an appealing topic: Crystal skulls. The last time I sat on the edge of my seat was during that fateful chemistry class last year when Will came into my life.
Mrs. Cohen told us what crystal skulls were and gave her reasons why it was impossible for them to be created. I didn't care much for her theories but my mind was jogging. I had heard about crystal skulls before and not just from the latest movie in the Indiana Jones saga. Then, I remembered that yesterday my English teacher had said that we would explore the myths behind skulls, crystal ones included, since we had covered Hamlet last week. Last week was a good week for Will and I since we adored Shakespeare so much and we were looking forward to the next test when we would be allowed to write essays about the themes and concept from the play. If today's English lecture was just as exciting as today's anatomy lecture, then I might be changing my topic from the psychoanalysis of Ophelia and her death to something pertaining to the symbolism of skulls in the play—or one particular skull: Yorick's skull.
I ate lunch with Melody to the usual stares from Natalie Wentworth and her clique. She had long since replaced Melody with a girl who was tall and willowy and had sunken in cheekbones that made her resemble a skull. I couldn't get skulls out of my head now. They had replaced the dream from the previous night and Melody had laughed at me when I asked her if she thought it was possible for crystal skulls to exist.
"What are you talking about, Anne?" Melody asked me through fits of laughter. "First, your weird dreams about Shakespearean characters and now, you are prattling on about the existence of crystal skulls. Are you okay? Is something wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, Melody," I told her sincerely. After all, nothing was wrong. I wasn't going insane or anything, even though I had forgotten that I had mentioned to Melody once about the reoccurring or not so reoccurring dreams that I had quite often while asleep. It was a secret that I had never shared with anyone before, not even Alice or Will, and I wished that Melody would be a little more supportive here instead of wondering if there was something wrong with me. I listened to her talk about her new outfit, so why couldn't she humor me and discuss crystal skulls with me?
"I just . . . it's a fascinating topic," I continued. Melody had stopped laughing and was picking though her salad with her fork, while listening to me. I knew she wanted to laugh at me some more but I pressed on and hoped that she would be a good friend and not chuckle anymore while we held such a conversation. "Mrs. Cohen was talking about them in anatomy today."
Melody stopped playing with her food and looked up at me. "What are crystal skulls again?"
I sighed. "Haven't you been listening to me this entire time?" I demanded, slightly crestfallen. If Melody was going to ignore something important to me then I might decide to go job hunting alone, as much as I didn't really want to. And since when did crystal skulls become important to me?
Melody smiled but didn't snicker. "I have been listening to you, Anne. Lighten up okay? I was only joking."
I was so frustrated that I didn't want to talk about crystal skulls anymore. A change of topic was in order, so I gobbled down a forkful of my own salad, rinsed it down with a sip of tea, and then pointed my plastic fork at Melody's half-eaten tray of food.
"Why aren't you eating?" I asked her curiously. Normally, Melody was the hungry one of our duo.
Melody shrugged. "I'm nervous, I guess."
"Nervous?" I echoed. "About what?"
Then, it hit me. I had nearly forgotten that we would be looking for jobs later that day. What was up with me? Lately I was forgetting a lot of things. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that so far today I had managed to suppress all signs of anxiety that threatened to creep up on me and now, Melody had reminded me of nerves.
I dropped my fork before Melody could say the obvious. "N-n-never mind. You don't have to say it. Thanks Melody for reminding me that I am scared senseless to try and find a job. Rejection is out there and it is my biggest fear. Thanks. Now, I can't eat either."
For the first time that lunch, Melody didn't smile. "Join the club," she said acrimoniously.
"You know," I started slowly. "You don't have to do this. I am the one trying to find employment. You don't have to look for one too unless you really, truly want to. You can just tag along and enjoy the ride. You don't have to be nervous too. You can be calm and supportive and look forward to a good meal and a good shopping spree."
"Thanks, Anne, but I want to see what happens and then, go from there," Melody said.
"Okay then," I said. "We'll be nervous together."
After lunch was two classes without Will—one of them was PE—so nothing of importance to note there, unless you want to here me talk about my increasing apprehension. I'm sure that will bore you as much as Mrs. Cohen's anatomy classes typically bored me so I think I'll pass on describing to you how I nearly puked in my history class and move on to the last class of the day and the second one that I shared with Will.
I always looked forward to English class each day because not only was English my favorite subject but because I could count on seeing Will there. And what was better than spending the final hour and a half together before school was dismissed?
We walked to class hand-in-hand—Will had met me outside of my history classroom like usual. Will noticed my nervous face at once and like Melody did when I started talking about crystal skulls, he asked me, "What's wrong, sweetheart? You look sick."
I needed to learn to how to hide my fear better.
"I'm fine, Will," I lied, which made me feel worse. "It has just been a long day and I'm tired."
"You should take a nap after school," Will suggested. "I get a forty-five minute break now—well, I get a thirty plus fifteen and can take both of them together if I want to—and I could swing by your apartment and bring you dinner."
He was so kind and I loved him. He was always thoughtful, my Will.
"No, that's okay, you don't have to bring me dinner," I told him. "I think Melody and I are going to pick up something." And I stopped there. I didn't want to ruin the surprise of me visiting him at work.
"You two hanging out today?" Will asked casually.
I nodded. "We're going to try and do some shopping at the Boutique and have a girls' evening in the city." At least I had told him the truth. Mostly. Melody and I did have plans to shop and eat dinner.
We entered English class and took our usual seats, up front and in the center. I unzipped my backpack and pulled out my notebook that I used for this class. I opened up the notebook and flipped it to the first blank page. The page before had my newest sonnet on it.
I loved writing sonnets. I couldn't write any other type of poetry but I was really good at sonnets. Of course my sonnets were Shakespearean sonnets in origin, but I also added my own personal touch to them. The form of three quatrains and an ending couplet remained, as did the third quatrain being a volta and the rhyme scheme being a-b-a-b, c-d-c-d, e-f-e-f, g-g. But I speak for all high school kids, even those who love Literature and English, when I say that I hate iambic pentameter. It was easy for me to have nine or ten syllables per line but the stressed and unstressed and naturally accented words drove me insane. Therefore, I just write each line however I feel like writing them, while sticking to most of the rules of Shakespearean sonnets.
I showed Will my new sonnet by shoving the notebook underneath his nose. Will laughed. "What's this?"
"Read it," I ordered him playfully. "It's my new sonnet."
Will was impressed. "You're just churning them out lately. You're like a . . . like a sonnet printing press or something."
I laughed. "A printing press?"
"Yeah, um, I'm going to read your poem."
"Sonnet, Will," I corrected him. "Sonnets are not poems, they are art."
"Well, poems are art too," Will countered.
It was a playful argument that we liked to have often; just one of the many fun moments of our relationship. You know, all couples who are lovey-dovey with each other have little minor, funny disagreements and inside jokes, etc. Arguing over whether or not sonnets should be included in the poetry genre was one of our favorite discussion topics. Will liked sonnets but he was so talented in other types of writing that he didn't care about them as much as I did. Sonnets were the only writing I was good at. I mean, I could write a decent essay and had even written a few short stories during my time but Will could write plays and novels if he wanted to. Sonnets were to me what making clothes were to Alice.
I rolled my eyes. "Just read before Mr. Moore arrives."
I watched as Will's eyes scanned the page and I recited the sonnet inside of my head along with him as he whispered it aloud. I had memorized my newest sonnet as I did with all of my sonnets and it was always a joy to have Will read them when I was finished:
In the mirror I saw your face again
Staring back at me with familiar eyes
I return to this haven now and then
Seeing you is like watching the sun rise
For it is not my reflection I see
Which makes me wonder if this is all real
Behold, my true love staring back at me
His reflection, his face, I long to feel
Behind the glass, he is most like a ghost
Trapped in a cage, a prisoner of love
He's the only person I want the most
Our hearts are pure like two turtledoves
We long to fly free and escape the past
We will be together, I break the glass
Will returned the notebook to me and gazed into my eyes. "That was a good poem," he complimented me and I ignored that fact that he called my sonnet a poem. "Is it about me?"
I poked the tip of his nose with a finger. "Of course, it is about you, silly. Who else would it be about? I can never feel this way about anyone except for you."
"So, explain the line about escaping the past," Will said.
"A past of us not knowing each other," I clarified something that was hard to convey in my sonnet, even though I had worked on it for hours at a time. "The mirror represents us knowing all along, even in our past lives, that we needed to be together, that the other person was always out there staring back at the other. And all we had to do was shatter the mirror and we could be together without the whole seven years of back luck superstition."
"Well, we have seemed to shattered the mirror, which has been the best thing that has ever happened to me and I am definitely hoping for seven years of good luck." And then, he did it. Will smiled my favorite smile, the smile that traveled from ear to ear.
Mr. Moore walked in then. He was an interesting, odd little old man, who seemed forever stuck in the seventies. He was a wonderful teacher who really engaged literature from all angles. I had a teacher last semester who was only concerned with character analysis and it was quite repetitive. Mr. Moore was different. He made his classes fun and enjoyable and little did I know that I was in for a really good treat with today's lecture.
Mr. Moore talked about crystal skulls and I felt a twinge of déjà vu. I sat on the edge of my seat again. Beside me, Will leaned forward in his own chair and I could hear his pen scratching against notebook paper at an insane speed, copying down everything that Mr. Moore said almost word for word.
"Crystal skulls have been a fascinating phenomena for centuries," Mr. Moore lectured. "Usually comprised of quartz crystals, instead of diamonds, which is a common misconception among modern people, crystal skulls are claimed to be dated from the pre-Colombian Mesoamerican time period of world history. Those claims have been proven false, as most crystal skulls were made in the mid 19th century in Europe, but the myths of the crystal skulls continue to live on today.
"Crystal skulls are fascinating because of the extraordinary paranormal, psychic, and supernatural powers that many believe they possess. Fictional novels, video games, television shows and movies explore this concept, usually explaining the origins of crystal skulls to come from Native American folklore or the mythologies of the Aztec and Mayan civilizations. Museums around the world, such as the British Museum and the Smithsonian Institution house several crystal skulls and I have one here for the class to view."
Mr. Moore pulled a crystal skull out of his bag and placed it delicately on his desk to the "ooohs" and "ahhhs" of the students of the class.
"This is a replica, a smaller version of an actual crystal skull," Mr. Moore informed the class. "But it serves its purpose to demonstrate the composition of a true crystal skull and it is made from quartz as well. Crystal skulls, like the one seen here, are similar to the representations of skulls in Aztec and Mayan paintings and carvings, which is why many believe that they have origins in the ancient civilizations of Mexico and Peru.
"One of the myths surrounding crystal skulls is that crystal skulls are said to have psychic powers because they are encased in crystals with psychic energy. By merely being held, crystal skulls bring unusual powers to their owners. Unlimited happiness and good luck are some of the psychic benefits to having crystal skulls. Crystal skulls are also utilized in the art of divination as substitutes for crystal balls by fortunetellers.
"Speaking of fortunetellers, crystal skulls are used to predict the future in other ways. Crystal skulls are linked to the Mayan calendar and the supposed end of the world on December 21, 2012, the date when the thirteen mystical skulls will be reunited. Not only that, but crystal skulls also have supernatural abilities such as healing factors and can even stop death from occurring. Some even believe that crystal skulls can resurrect the dead as well. And one of the most famous speculated crystal skulls is Yorick's skull from the play Hamlet."
Will's hand shot up at once.
"Yes, Mr. Stratford?"
"Sir, are you trying to tell us that Yorick's skull is supposed to be a crystal skull?"
Mr. Moore shrugged and smiled; he always enjoyed it when his students interacted with his lectures. "Perhaps," he responded. "Or perhaps not. I will leave it for you to decide when I say this: 'Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him well'."
Will beat me to the punch. Mr. Moore had misquoted the line from Hamlet. Knowing our teacher, he had most likely done it on purpose to see if anyone would notice and to advance his teachings on crystal skulls.
Calmly, and remembering his role of Hamlet last year during one of the Drama Club's production of a Shakespearean play, Will recited the line from Act Five that Mr. Moore had poorly declaimed.
"Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy; he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now?" Will went well beyond the misquoted line. "I think you meant that you knew Yorick, Mr. Moore; not that you knew him well."
I elbowed Will playfully in the side. "Showoff," I muttered under my breath. Will beamed.
"Ahoy, we have an expert of Shakespeare here," Mr. Moore was proud but some of the students in the class weren't. I saw a couple of girls in the corner roll their eyes, jealous of Will's ability to recall Shakespearean lines at the snap of a finger. "Perhaps I didn't know Yorick well then, after all, which is the point of my lecture for today. I am trying to demonstrate the various believes over the important skull in the play Hamlet, and I want you to choose a side for your next test. I have introduced the notion of Yorick's skull being a fabled crystal skull and now, we shall explore the idea of skull symbolism in literature, and in particular, the skull symbolism in Hamlet. Afterwards, I shall give you your essay prompts and allow you to have fun engaging the text critically so I can look forward to reading your responses.
"But first, skull symbolism. Skulls usually symbolize death and mortality because it is an easily recognized symbol of the human body after decomposition. When Hamlet finds Yorick's skull in the play, he recognizes it as the skull of his former friend. He then comteplates whether or not to act in his famous "To be or not to be" speech, a soliloquy of bitterness and ironic humor. The online dictionary, Wikipedia, states that 'the skull was an emblem of melancholy for Shakespeare's contemporaries', but is also an emblem that 'cannot be assumed to be a mere symbol of Death'. . . ."
English class passed by like a speeding train, you know one of those French trains that can travel extremely fast all throughout Europe. School was over quickly and before I knew it, I was saying farewell to Will at the buses before I met Melody outside the front entrance to the school's main building. Melody was sitting by the fountain out in the quad area, talking on her cellphone when I found her.
I approached Melody slowly, not wanting to overhear her conversation. Melody looked up, squinting against the glare of the sun, and saw me coming. She hastily ended her phone call with an "Okay. I love you too. Yeah, I will call you later. Yes, I got enough money for the bus fare. Okay. Bye."
Melody slid her cell phone shut and pocketed it. She looked up at me and stood up.
"Mom?" I guessed as to who Melody was just talking to on the phone.
Melody nodded once. "She was just checking up on me." Melody sighed. "She is always checking up on me. How much you wanna bet that she'll call like a dozen times while we are hanging out?"
"At least you have a mother to check up on you," I pointed out and immediately wished I hadn't. I had instigated a very sensitive subject. Melody and I had only talked once about what had happened to my parents five years ago and after that intial conversation, we never really brought the subject up again except on rare occasions like this when the topic starter slipped out of one of our mouths. It was painful for me to talk about the accident. Alice and I never spoke of it and we tried to avoid the subject at all cost. Will was my only other confiance pertaining to that matter and he and I rarely spoke of it as well.
Melody fell silently at once and I could tell that she was searching for the right word to say that wouldn't make the conversation any more awkward than it already was.
"But you've got Alice," she finally said after a moment of thought. "She checks on you, I'm sure."
"She does," I acknowledged, glad that Melody had found the perfect words to say that would not reopen the wounds that caused the pain that built up whenever I thought or spoke about the accident.
The awkwardness passed and Melody and I walked off of campus and up the sidewalk about a block and a half to the nearest bus stop. We sat on the bench and watched the pedestrians pass, inventing stories about each person. It was easy to tell a person's occupation by several traits—clothing, hairstyles, the way they walked and so forth. It was like that one Poe story—sorry I am not much of a Poe enthusiast since I absolutely adore Shakespeare—about the one narrator who sits in a coffee shop and does something similar to what Melody and I were presently doing.
The bus arrived about fifteen minutes after we did, so we didn't have much time to play our amusing game.
We got off a couple of blocks away from the place where Will worked—a local courier service. It was almost four o'clock, the time that Will was supposed to be at work. Melody was starving since she didn't eat her lunch and I was more than willing to eat some more since I didn't finish my own lunch, so we decided to eat our dinner earlier than we wanted to. I wanted to give Will some time to get to work and even though I was still nervous, my hunger was starting to overwhelm me more so than anxiety.
We ate dinner in a small burger joint across the street from Will's work. The food was good there, not great, but the burgers were greasy and big enough to beat out a double cheeseburger from the dollar menu at McDonald's anytime.
With our stomachs full and our hunger satisfied, Melody and I journeyed across the street and found Will behind the counter like usual. He spotted us when we walked into the building and his eyes widened in surprise.
"Anne!" he called out and I was glad that he wasn't with a customer for he was sure to have neglected him or her at the sight of me. Will ran over to us." Melody? Hi? What are you two doing here?"
He swept me up into a tight bear-hug and kissed my forehead.
"A surprise visit," Melody answered because Will was currently crushing me in his excited embrace. She jammed a thumb in my direction after Will had released me. It took me a moment to begin to breathe regularly again. "It was her idea."
Will looked at me, smiling my smile. My knees buckled slightly. "I thought you two were hanging out."
"We were," I told him. "We've eaten dinner and now we are going to go and look for jobs. After that, then we are—"
"Wait a minute," Will interrupted me. "You two are looking for a job. Wow. I'm impressed. But why didn't you tell me, Anne? I can probably help you."
"I wanted to surprise you," I said. "Besides, that's what we are here for—to ask for your help. We were wondering if you could point us in the right direction. You know, tell us which places are hiring around here."
"Yeah, give us the rundown," Melody almost pleaded. "Not only tell us who's hiring but what are the best jobs. I don't think I can be a busboy, or whatever they are called for girls. My nails don't do dirty dishes. Sorry."
Will thought long and hard. "Well, I guess that restaurants are out of the question, so let's see . . . ."
"Restaurants are not out of the question," I spoke up. "I don't mind working at a restaurant. Alice works at a restaurant and she could show me the ropes if I was hired as a waitress or whatever."
"Okay, so restaurants are still in for you, Anne." He paused to think again. Will was garbed in his red and blue work uniform—polo shirt and khaki pants—and he looked adorable. I always believed he was out of his element working in a courier's office, but he looked so handsome pulling it off. "Let's see. The uh, seafood place is hiring and so is the burger place across the street."
"We just ate there," I revealed to him. "I liked the food but I don't think that I could work there. And seafood . . . I don't know about the seafood restaurant. I don't want to get off of work smelling like fish."
Will chortled. "Picky, aren't we?" For a third time, he was deep in thought. He really wanted to help us find a job and I could tell that just by how hard he was thinking. Will knew a little about Alice and mine's financial situation and he knew that I needed a job. He would make suggestions for me until he was blue in the face.
"The only other restaurant that might be hiring around here is the German restaurant and I think that it is required that you speak German fluently to be even considered for the job."
"Okay then, enough about restaurants," Melody said. "The food industry is overrated anyways among high school students whose first jobs are manning fry stations or flipping beef patties on a grill. What about clothing stores? Are there any around here that are looking for fashion experts such as Anne and I?"
"Clothing stores?" Will echoed. "Not much there. And before you ask, The Boutique is not hiring, unless you're a designer that is, so that leaves only that one thrift store on the corner at the end of the block. I think that's the only clothing store that is hiring."
Melody displayed her dress for Will to see. I didn't think I liked her showing off such a revealing dress to Will but I didn't need to be jealous. Melody was my best friend and she would never think of Will as more than a friend and Will was . . . well, Will was the perfect boyfriend who couldn't lie.
"You see this?" Melody asked Will. "I designed and made this dress. I am a designer and I am going to get a job at the Boutique selling my designs." She looked over at me. "Maybe if Alice can see how successful I am going to be, then she might decide to sell her clothes as well." Melody was awfully confident and I hoped she did get the job. I would hate to see her after she was rejected because it would devastate her and she would probably give up fashion design altogether. And I would never in a million years want to see her abandon her dream.
"Now, all you have to do is make a suggestion, Will, that will benefit me," I said. More suggestions for Melody was out of the question because she would not settle for anything other than the Boutique now. Again, I hoped that she would get the job.
"Hmm. For my Princess Anne," Will began. Princess Anne was one my nicknames that he had given me a few months after we started dating. I liked it and he seemed to like it even more since he used it quite often. How fitting of a nickname it was too since Will was Prince Charming in my eyes and he always made me feel like a princess no matter what. Will was so perfect for me that I could never recall an instance where we quarrelled. There were many times when we playfully argued but I don't think that we disagreed over much. In addition to being honest, Will was the most selfless guy I had ever met, like Edward from the Twilight series, only Will was human and Edward's not.
"Other than the restaurants and the thrift store, that's about it," Will said in defeat. But then, he brightened suddenly. A strange and peculiar smile crossed his face then and it was far from my smile. It was a smile that clearly said that he was up to something that I might not like. But I trusted Will and knew that he would not be devious and lead me astray. He wanted to assist me in seeking employment and whatever job he was thinking of would probably be a perfect fit for me. Then, why did I think that his smile meant that he was scheming up something?
"I know a place that you might like working at, Anne," Will said and I waited to hear what he had to say next. I listened with intensity. "The Merchant's Library," Will said proudly as if he had finally come up with the correct answer to a very complex math equation.
I stared at him and Melody made a sound of annoyance or maybe it was a sound of disbelief; I didn't know. "The Merchant's Library," Melody echoed. "Are you serious?"
Will nodded and beamed.
"You want Anne to work at that secondhand book store that is run by that creepy skopkeeper Antonio?" Melody asked Will.
Will looked deeply hurt without warning. "Antonio is not creepy," he defended one of his good friends. According to Will, he and Antonio had been acquaintances for quite some time now even before Will had moved here. In his previous home, a place that Will had never spoken of and I had never really asked him about—I usually tended not to pry into other people's business unless they told me about it first—Will's parents had been good friends with Antonio as well.
"Okay, so he's not creepy," Melody agreed with Will after realizing that she had hurt my boyfriend's feelings, "but he is not completely sane. I mean, who gets so angry at a group of kids who were trying to read those precious manuscripts of his and call the cops on them?"
"Those manuscripts are special!" Will cried. "They were written by Shakespeare himself."
Ah. I remembered then what they were talking about. The famous Shakespearean manuscripts. Apparently, the shopkeeper Antonio was an even bigger fan of Shakespeare than me, Will, and Alice combined. Antonio collected Shakespearean artifacts and his most prized possessions were manuscripts of some of Shakespeare's plays, such as Henry IV and Othello, that were supposedly written by the great playwright himself. Rumor had it that Antonio kept the manuscripts hidden in a back room of his store since he lived on the top floor of the building that was his home and office sort to speak. Will had been trying since we first started dating to get me to go into the bookstore with him and attempt to get Antonio to allow us to steal a gander at his precious documents; however, things had always come up or I had declined on several occassions. I had met Antonio one day in the square and I had to admit that he was a pretty bizarre old man.
Still, if he was hiring help for his bookstore then I would serious have to consider applying. I tried to think about all of the positive benefits. If I got a job at the Merchant's Library, I would be working very close to Will and perhaps we would be able to take lunch breaks together and take romantic strolls through the square after meals. Not only that but I will spend most of my time after school in a shop that sold books. It would be like heaven for me since I loved to read a lot. The positive aspects of such a job was really starting to outweigh the bad—working with Antonio—the more I thought about it.
"Or so Antonio says," Melody countered. "Do you have proof that they were written by Shakespeare? For all we know, they could be forgeries."
"Will you two stop bickering?" I interjected before the conversation got worse. I didn't want my best friend and boyfriend arguing. Several customers had drifted into the store and they were nosily staring at the three of us. I didn't want them to complain and get Will into trouble with his boss. "I'll check out the Merchant's Library. Working with Antonio can't be that bad right?"
Melody shot me an "Are you crazy?" look then and Will smiled my smile again. "You have to try and read one of the manuscripts," he joked. "You have to try and read one."
I kissed his cheek. "Thanks sweetheart, but I don't think that I am going to try something that might get me fired before I even got the job."
"Of course, darling," Will said, the smile fading from his face and I wished that it would return. "Trust me. I would never want you to do anything that could jeopardize your first job."
I gave him a quick kiss and Melody and I left, departing and going on our separate quests to find employment. After agreeing to meet back at Will's work when we were finished and after leaving our backpacks under the careful supervision of Will, Melody headed for the Boutique, while I made my way through the crowd towards the Merchant's Library.
On the way there, I passed by the seafood restaurant that Will had mentioned. With the doubt in my mind that I might not get the job at the bookstore, I crossed the street and headed back to the restaurant. I was about to walk inside when I received a phone call from Alice that would make me change my mind about trying to work in a restaurant.
"Hello?" I answered my cell phone.
"Hey Anne," Alice said. My cell phone was for emergencies so I was wondering why she had called. Not only that but she was phoning me from home. Wasn't she supposed to be at work. "How's the job hunt going?"
I knew that something was wrong at once. Alice had called me on my cell phone, which she rarely did. Also, she was doing that thing she did whenever she was trying to work up the courage to tell me something; she was stalling by asking casual questions and I could sense the fear in her tone of voice.
"I'm just getting started," I told her, humoring her. "Melody came with me so we ate dinner and went to visit to Will to find out all of the places that might be hiring in the square."
"I forgot that Will worked in the square," Alice said softly. "Where are you going to apply for a job?"
"I was going to Merchant's Library, but I am going to go and talk to the manager of the seafood place as soon as I get off the phone with you."
Alice fell slilent after that and I thought I heard small sobs on her end of the phone.
I didn't hesitate when I asked her, "Alice? What's wrong?"
Alice did hesitate when she responded. "Don't try to work for a restaurant," she told me, almost as if she was ordering me not to. "Go and apply at the bookstore. I'm sure that you can get a job there. Mr. Antonio has been looking for help for months now."
"Why?" I wondered. "You work at a—"
And then I figured it out right then and there without Alice having to say it. My heart dropped in my chest. How were we going to survive now?
"I, uh, I . . ." Alice stuttered.
"Don't," I silenced her. "I know and I'm sorry."
"We're going to make it, okay?" Alice told me. "I still have the job working the front desk in the university center at school, so we'll be fine. We may have to cut back on some of the expenses we don't need until I able to find another job, but we're going to be okay."
Alice had repeated "we're going to be okay" more so for herself to hear it than to reassure me. I was so devastated that my silence was evident. I held the phone tightly in my hand and just listened to the noises around me in the square for Alice had fallen silent as well.
"Okay," I finally said after a long time of silence. I could hear Alice crying on the other end. She was trying to be quiet about it but she was failing miserably.
"Well, have fun with Melody and good luck," Alice told me in between sobs. "I'll see you when you get home."
I couldn't say anything more to Alice except for, "Okay."
I hung up the phone and turned away from the seafood restaurant with a grim look on my face. I couldn't believe that Alice had lost her main job and our main source of income. I wished that I shared in her hopeless optimism but it was impossible. There was no way we could afford the rent with the money that she made from the university alone. I had to get a job as soon as possible. I just had to.
Determined, I marched up the sidewalk to the Merchant's Library. It was a quaint little place that sold new and used—mostly used and tattered—books.
The store was particualrly empty when I entered the bell chiming entrance, save for an elderly couple who looked as though they were shopping for treasures the way that they handled the tomes that they were carrying.
Antonio was behind the counter, watching and observing. I approached him cautiously.
He was a stern-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair and a goatee. He wore a strange attire, like some fashion that was not of the current times, or even the century for that matter. Antonio was a Shakespearean scholar and his clothing was something out of Elizabethean times.
Antonio watched me approach, taking his eyes off of the elderly couple. He remained silent and allowed me the courtesy of speaking first, which was not a good idea in my opinion because of one problem that I had whenever I combined nerves with speech—
"Uh . . . uh, h-hi," I stammered, forcing myself to smile. "I w-was wondering if . . . if you were hiring?"
Antonio didn't respond quite yet. Instead, he pointed at the foggy windows of his shop. Even though the sign was facing outside and the words printed on it were backwards, I could still read it clearly.
NOW HIRING
I swallowed and knew that I already had one strike against me for ever getting a job here with my dumb qustion. How could I have been so stupid?
I looked back at Antonio and grinned a very cheesy grin, even for my standards. "Well, then, I would like to apply for a job please Mr. . . . Mr. . . ." My voice trailed off and I realized then, as my heart pounded like a bass drum inside my chest, that I didn't know Antonio's last name. And I thought that referring to him as Antonio to his face was a tad bit rude. For a fleeting second, I considered calling him Mr. Merchant but I quickly thought better of it.
"Antonio will do just fine," Antonio told me. He had an unusual voice. It was calm and steady and like Will's voice, he had an accent that was difficult to place. "In Venice, my home," he continued, "we only address people by his or her given name. Surnames are unnecessary as other, more important niceties are observed there."
Venice? Does this guy think that he is the Merchant of Venice or something? Sure, he shared a name with Antonio from the play who was a rival of the villain Shylock, but did he really think he was actually from Venice? That, I found difficult to believe.
"Okay, I would like to apply for a job—" I hesitated, not sure if he was joking or not "—Antonio, sir." I added a hasty sir to the end of my statement, observing my own personal niceties.
Antonio nodded and looked me over twice. "Have you any work experience, particularly in retail?"
I shook my head. "No sir, I haven't," I told him very politely. "But I'm a fast learner, except when it comes to making clothes. Long story there but I am pretty smart and I pick up on things easily. Plus, I love reading."
Antonio was silent for a moment, his face passive just like Caliban's from my dream.
"I am a very busy man," Antonio said. "I do not have much time to train you. Therefore, I am looking only for people who are experienced and—"
I knew where he was going with his words. He was about to shoot me down and I was not going to let that happen. Too much was riding on this job and I did not want to go and apply at that seafood place after what happened to Alice today.
I cut Antonio off in mid-sentence and I didn't care if I was being rude. I wanted and needed this job.
"With all due respect, sir, I am pretty sure that I can do the job well enough that you wouldn't have to train me much. I mean, how hard is it to run a cash register, even one as old as that one." I noticed that the cash register was ancient like it was the prototype for the first ever register that was placed in stores.
"But, there's more to the job than handling cash," Antonio tried his hardest to keep from hiring me. "There's customer assistance. You have to help customers find the books that they desire and it is imperative that you have some knowledge about each book. Also, you must know the inventory—how many books we have on the shelves—"
I interrupted him again. "Give me a week and I can learn the inventory," I pleaded with him. I hated pleading but I had to make sacrifices to get this job and self-pride had to be the first thing I gave up, an opportunity cost. "And I know these books. Half of them I have read, I'm sure." As I looked around, I saw a couple of Jane Austen books on one of the shelves and The Great Gatsby, along with The Count of Monte Christo—I had read all of them at one point in my life.
"Please, just get me a chance," I concluded, my voice shrill and traveling up several octaves within a few seconds.
"But you have no work experience," Antonio repeated.
I broke down then. Tears streamed from my eyes, falling slowly at first and then, picking up tremendously. That was all if had taken. The conversation with Alice came back to me and now, I was being denied the only job that I thought I would actually enjoy. I guessed I could still try for the seafood place and if that did not work out then it would be back to the drawing board.
I had to try one more time. I had to . . . .
"I know I don't have any work experience but I want this job. My sister lost her job today and I know that you don't care about my life story, but my sister has been struggling to take care of me ever since . . . since something terrible happened with our parents. Now, that I am old enough, I want to help her. I want a job. I want this job and all I ask is for you to just give me one week. If I am not the employee that you want by then, then you can fire me or whatever. Just give me one chance, please?" And I wiped my face and tried to hide the tears but they were just overwhelming. It had been a long time since I had cried like that.
Antonio was silent for a long while. I averted my eyes. I couldn't look at him. I didn't want to see the look on his face. That was my last shot. If that didn't work, then I would be leaving in shame. I couldn't fight anymore. I was out of ammo now. There was nothing better that I could come up with than genuine tears and a heartfelt story that may or may not win over the sympathy of a man like Antonio.
"Follow me," Antonio said out of nowhere and my eyes finally found his eyes again. A surge shot through me but I didn't want to get my hopes up, at least not too much. "Welcome to the Merchant's Library. Let me give you a tour of the premises."
I couldn't believe it. Antonio was given me an opportunity to prove myself worthy of working for him. I hadn't expected this. Even when I broke down and cried, I was greaing myself up to accept defeat. I was sure that he was going to turn me down but then the unexpected happened. Maybe he felt sorry for me or maybe not; however, I was grateful for whatever changed his mind. I had a job now and I would be able to help Alice out. She would be thrilled. I wondered how Melody was doing as ecstasy coursed through me. I no longer had to worry about myself getting a job and suddenly my thoughts shifted to Melody.
"Thank you so much," I couldn't stop myself from telling Antonio, hoping my words would not spoil the moment. He didn't say anything; he just walked out from behind the counter and looked around the shop. The elderly couple were still shopping and they both had an armful of books.
Antonio gave me a brief tour, which was brief due to the fact that there wasn't a whole lot to the store. He showed me the sales area and how the items were separated into sections based on book genre, like your typical Barnes and Noble or another famous bookstore chain. Then, he took me through a doorway near the front counter that led to several smaller rooms. Antonio's office was the first room. It was a tiny office with barely enough room to fit a desk and chair. I noted that Antonio didn't have a computer, only a private selection of gigantic books that I assumed were primarily used for research. Antonio seemed to be very old-fashioned. As his new employee, he told me that I was allowed to visit his office on two occasions. The first being whenever he was present in his office, I would be allowed to enter and summon him if I needed him. And the second occasion was reserved for when I clocked in and out. I guessed that Antonio counted both time punches as one occasion together.
The bathrooms followed his office. Nothing much there, just two rooms with a toilet and a sink. But the room that came next trumped them all.
It was Antonio's private room, not his office where he kept an array of books. It was a stockroom, so I was allowed back there with one exception: I was not allowed to touch his most prized possessions.
But I didn't know what his most prized possessions were. I never found out, at least not from Antonio. Right as he was about to give me a tour of this room, the bell chimed at the front of the store as new customers entered the shop. Antonio excused himself with a gruff, "I'll be right back. You can wait here, but don't touch anything."
Antonio left in a hurry to assist the customers.
I stood there in the circular room in awe, staring around at all of the items that the room contained. There were not only books but little knick-knacks and odds and ends. It was like a miniature museum of sorts.
I stepped deeper into the room, my curiosity getting the best of me. I had to have a look around. There was nothing wrong with taking a peek at all of the neat stuff in here. Antonio had just told me not to touch anything. I wouldn't get into any trouble if I kept my hands to myself, which was very hard to do.
Antonio was a true collector of unusual items and while in this room, I felt as though I had stepped into a dimension that combined the Da Vinci Code with Tomb Raider meets the world of Shakespeare. An actual codex rested inside of glass encased shelf nearby. Sparkling jeweled encrusted rings and necklaces gleamed at me from their homes and as I leaned in to take a closer look at the jewelry. One of the rings had a tag that read "Leah's Ring". If you knew Shakespeare like I knew Shakespeare then that name would stand out in your mind at once.
There is a ring in The Merchant of Venice play that is referred to as Leah's ring. It was a ring that is given to a young Shylock by a woman named Leah, who Shakespearean experts believed to be the mother of Shylock's daughter, Jessica. In the play, Jessica trades the ring for a monkey and it becomes lost.
I studied the ring closely. It was a simple ring made of either silver, platinum, or white gold; it was hard for me to tell the difference between the three metals by only observing them with my naked eyes. There was three slots that were carved into the surface of the ring that looked as though they could hold three miniature crystals. It was odd considering that the receptacles for the gems were so tiny and I assumed that they had fallen out at some point during the ring's life. It looked a little dented and worn, a little old.
I looked around the room some more, fascinated. I could hear Antonio's voice coming from the front room. It sounded as if he was telling the newcomers about a book he had recently received. He seemed to quite the chatterbox whenever he was discussing something he enjoyed discussing like books and I thought that he could talk for hours if the customers allowed him to. That gave me ample amounts of time to explore. I wondered how long it would take for Antonio to return.
If nothing else, I knew then that I would enjoy working at the Merchant's Library because of all of the awesomely cool artifacts that Antonio owned. I could waste an entire day just by staring away at all of the goodies he had acquired.
Then, I saw them. The room was circular and had two floors. A ladder with wheels was leaning against the northern section and was perfect access to the second floor where they rested snugly on one of the shelves of a bookcase.
They were glowing, a pale golden color, inviting me to come up there and have a closer look. Again, I was reminded of Antonio telling me not to touch anything, but there was no harm in looking. I had to get a closer look of the glowing books. How was that possible? How were books glowing of their own natural light? It had to a some sort of trick of the light, but I guessed I would be finding out the source of the glow shortly.
I moved the ladder across the room, and it rolled easily and smoothly across the hardwood floor. Then, I took and deep breath and instead of climbing up the ladder right away, I strained my ears and listened.
Antonio was still running his mouth, which was good. And I could hear the cash reigster chiming as well. I planned to dart up the ladder and take a quick look at the glowing objects and climb back down before Antonio returned. I knew that he had only told me not to touch anything but I didn't think he would be too kind to me anymore after catching me up on the second floor.
Taking another deep breath, I scurried up the ladder.
Stepping onto the second floor, I followed the curving path around, moving quickly. I also followed the golden glow and with overwhelming intrigue I stepped up to the bookcase.
They were books, books that were basking in a golden glow as though they were forever underneath the gaze of the morning star. They were unmarked. Their spines were devoid of words and decoration, and so were their covers too, as far as I could see in their current positions. There were about fifteen in all, all sitting there and glowing.
I was confused because I couldn't figure out what was creating the light. The light seemed to be coming from the books themselves, but yet it was separate from the books as well. It was very difficult to explain. I hadn't had any experience with the occult before, but there was only one way to describe this phenomemon. It was magic.
I shook my head and laughed aloud at such a thought. Magic didn't exist. There had to be some kind of rational explanation for this. There just had to be. And I wouldn't rest until I figured out how this was occurring. Perhaps I could ask Antonio . . . .
I was about to walk back to the ladder when something occurred to me. I remembered the conversation that I had had with Will and Melody earlier that evening when Will was trying to talk me into to getting a job at the Merchant's Library in the first place. I knew that I wasn't supposed to touch anything in that room but I had to be sure. I couldn't just walk away now that the memory of that conversation had returned to me. I had to take a peek—just one peek—and find out if the glowing books were really what I believed them to be.
I looked back over my shoulder at the open door that led into the room. There was no sign of Antonio. I was too deep in the room to hear anything but that didn't stop me. I turned back around and reached one hand out tentatively. One look, I told myself. That was all I was going to take. Then, when I had the proof, I would return back downstairs and wait for Antonio. When he came back for me he would never suspect a thing.
I touched the nearest book, afraid of something terrible happening as my fingers stroked the spine. But nothing happened. The book continued to glow and even against my fingertips, it felt like an ordinary book. I slowly pulled the book away from the others, careful not to drop it. The book was delicate and I treated it that way.
Flipping the book over in my hands, I learned that I had been correct. The cover was blank. Upon a closer inspection, I could see that the book was bound in leather, like aged manuscripts. Nervous, for some strange reason, I opened the book.
A thin, slanting scrawl met me on the first page. I read closely, my eyes confirming what I had suspected all along. It was hard to make out the words on the page. Not only were they tiny and hard to read, but the words were also different in spelling and meaning than Modern English. This was the language of Shakespearean times. I was holding one of the manuscripts in my hand, manuscripts that were supposedly written by Shakespeare himself.
I couldn't believe it. They were real. I had always thought that Will had been joking about them, but here they were, as real as night and day. And then I remembered that Will couldn't lie, which meant that he couldn't tell jokes, which meant that he had been telling me the truth. I could see the truth now. It was staring me in the face.
But then again, that nagging voice in the back of mind told me that perhaps Shakespeare didn't write this glorious piece of fiction that I was reading, or any of them for that matter. The voice told me that there was a possibility that they could be fake— forgeries. There was no way for me to prove that Shakespeare had written these texts himself unless I could perform necromancy or something and resurrect the greatest playwright the world has ever known to interview him.
But magic didn't exist, so I couldn't bring Shakespeare back to verify that these manuscripts had been penned by him. And then, another thought popped into my head.
I noticed how prestine the pages were, how perfectly perserved they were, as if they had been written only yesterday. This was impossible, of course, so maybe the voice in my brain was right: Maybe these were fake manuscripts that were recently written by a Shakespeare copyist.
Nonetheless, the sight of such a document was breath-taking. The book was beautiful and the pages were beautiful. The handwriting was neat and I managed to read the title aloud. The title was located at the top of the page, written in fancy calligraphy and even fancier ink that was emerald green:
The
History of
Henrie The Fourth;
With the battell at Shrewsburie,
betweene the King and Lord Henry Percy,
surnamed Henrie Hotspur of the North.
With the humorous conceits of Sir John Falstalffe.
A symbol that was shaped like the sun was beneath the lengthy title. I was glad that scholars and publishers had shortened the title over years to Henry IV because saying all of that was a mouthful. There was a border around the edge of the page, comprised of miniature circluar pictures that resembled the sun symbol.
That was all that was on the first page. I flipped to the next page and found a list of characters or the dramatis personae. Beneath that was the beginning of Act One, Scene One.
My heart thudded in my chest. I knew that I should have returned the book to its proper home and went back down the ladder. That nagging voice told me to do that much, but for some reason I couldn't move. I had to read from the page. It was as if the words had me snared and wouldn't let go until I had read at least a little bit. I felt strange as well, suddenly dizzy.
I sat down roughly and crossed my legs. I rested the heavy book upon my lap and I listened for a sign that Antonio was returning. I still couldn't hear anything. He was either still helping his customers or he was on his way back here. Either way, I knew that he would be returning soon but I couldn't put down the book. Besides, I was comfortable now, in a perfect position to read.
I could still feel the vertigo but I ignored it. Taking another steady breath and knowing I was about to do something that would probably get me fired on the first day of my new job, I read from the book. Suddenly, nothing was more important than doing so.
"Act One, scene one," I said aloud as though I was reading to an audience. "Enter the king, Lord John of Lancaster, Earl of Westmoreland, with others." Another breath. "King: So shaken as we are, so wan with care/Find we a time for frighted peace to pant/And breathe short-winded accents of new broils/To be commenced in strands afar remote . . . ."
And as I continued to read, the vertigo took over me and the room faded away around me. Before my eyes closed, I thought I saw someone enter the room. Antonio, perhaps?
And then, the darkness claimed me.
