Chapter 1 – Meet me on the other side

There was a bright light coming from multiple sources towering over her. She felt the cold touch of leather under her skin. Her heart pumped out of her chest as she realised she dozed off somewhere else last time. The room was still spinning but took form as her eyes adjusted to the sunlight shining through the tall windows, as she figured now. Shapes and colours started to make sense, now she was able to attach names to the objects in the room. The beams of light lead her eyes to a huge desk which demonstrated power, control, and elegance, surrounded by a library worth of bookshelves. The soothing sound of fire cracking came from her right, and as she turned towards it, her eyes found something more important: a huge door, the means of escape. She tried to focus on this very important information, but her mind was soaking in millions of little details. She immediately knew how impossible this place is because of little things, like no dust particles were seen in a room full of books, although it was lit from multiple sources. Or the fact that the shelving was the perfect size for the books it contained. There was not a single empty place on the shelves, every book in the row was the same height, like the furniture was tailored to the books, and more disturbingly all of the selves were fitting perfectly together, from wall to wall, no gaps whatsoever, like the whole room was sized to the furniture, not the other way around.

A trembling breath left her. Those details were warnings, red flags all around, and she wanted to bolt towards the door as the only reasonable reaction, but she could not force her limbs to move. The fear of what could be on the other side of it, the disturbing details in this room, what sent shivers down her spine was not just exciting, but pure joy to her mind. She already thrived in the chaos this room's uncanny nature promised. She was fighting with her mind to remember what would be a "normal" reaction, but she immediately convinced herself that it is not considered normal, to be afraid of a room, or the objects in it. This gave her an excuse to stay and wait for the situation to unfold itself.

She sat up properly in the brown leather armchair, which stuck to her bare skin. She was wearing only a patient gown, what was open on the back, and bare footed. What reminded her of the last situation and place she was in. She was at the hospital, in the MRI machine, after she took the second dose of the new medicine, which should help her control the "unwanted" thoughts, be "normal" and suppress the need to cause chaos around herself. The last thing she remembered hearing from outside the machine was the doctor's voice saying "she goes into shock, get her out".

Suddenly peace fell to her nerves. Her shoulders relaxed , she cracked her neck. If she was dead, nothing can harm her, not things, not people, not thoughts, although she did not feel any difference from life. She was still hyper aware of the little details around her, her mind was still full of possible outcomes of situations.

Suddenly she heard footsteps, getting closer, and closer from behind the doors, her only escape. She jumped up from her seat in excitement. No, it must be fear! It should be, that would be more normal. Wouldn't it?

The door opened wide, and an elegant figure stepped into the room, his trench coat flowing behind him.. A man, much older than her, in neatly tailored clothes. "Green, gold, neat, fitting, comfortable, practical, elegant, layered clothes, leather shoes, coat, jacket, golden and white buttons, ice blue eyes, smiling wrinkles, a pocket watch and a hat" -run through her head immediately, scanning every little detail about the man in a blink of an eye.

"Oh hello!" – said the man, with a cheerful reassuring smile on the most unique voice she ever heard – "You are awake already. Good!"

She realised this man had an appropriately nice smile on his face, but it didn't quite match the certain joy and excitement in his eyes. It was a bit off. Strange and alarming, but it reflected on her own mood. What was like a mirror she didn't want to see. She should be scared, and unsure right now. But those cold blue smiling eyes promised excitement. Adventure, horror, thill? What? Does? It? Matter?

She shook her head, and grounded herself. She stood straight and looked the man in the eye. She was still determined to look normal.

"I'm sorry, but I would like to ask for your help please." – she said, not sure what would be the appropriate reaction from a normal person in a situation like this – "I don't know where I am, and how I got here." – Her voice was steady and determined.

"Oh, I can assure you, you are at the right place at the right time "– smiled the man, nodding his head to her a little, and turned around to put his hat and coat on a hanger next to the door.

She relaxed a bit, as he reassured her. She sat back calmly to the cold leather with her bare skin, crossed her legs and adjusted her patient gown, to cover them properly, like a lady. Like it would be a pretty silk dress instead of a rough fabric with two stings on. The man apparently noticed something about her, because he raised his eyebrow and flashed a more honest smile towards her. He was obviously entertained already.

"I think we have never met before, but I already can tell, you are a very special person" – he walked towards the desk, not breaking eye contact with her - "I am the Curator, the Custodian of stories, and this is my repository," - he gestured around in the library room - "full of amazing tales about mystery, love, hate, life and death." -he added with a flash in his eyes promising an adventure of a lifetime.

"It is very nice to meet you Sir" – she stood up again, and bowed her head a bit, trying to appear to be as calm and well behaved as one can be – "please excuse my clothes. My name is Lucy Anette Brunner, I'm scared, and I need your help."

The Curator's eyes widened, and he smiled suspiciously. This new guest of his was certainly very special, and he was curious to find out how special she was, but one thing was sure: she was lying. She was not scared, not even a bit. She was acting, showing a calm collected person, when she might be unsure, confused or even frightened. All to hide her excitement, in his opinion, and it was very unusual. His smile turned into a mischievous grin.

"There is no reason to be alarmed Lucy." – he decided to take part in her play – "I just would like you to tell a story fully, what is already part written, that is all. Would you be interested?"

Lucy thought she was imagining it, but when she looked at him she already saw a partner in crime. Or in her case a partner in madness and chaos. Could she let herself go a bit?

"I see, but can I have some questions before that?" – she asked, already analysing everything on the desk, as the Curator walked by her to get a book from the shelf. She was curious about the content of that book, but the skull on the desk was equally exciting and she completely forgot about escaping. Or simply she didn't want to leave anymore.

"You must certainly can "– the Curator chuckled, as this young lady turned out to be more and more out of the ordinary. He ran two fingers across the books, he was already excited about the story she would tell.

Lucy had a hundred questions, but most of them were irrelevant, or can be guessed. There were "normal" questions too, but she couldn't care less about those answers when she can have more interesting ones. The rest of the questions were all leading to one, and one only question what can answer all the others.

"Why is there no dust in this room?" – she asked and got the Curator completely off guard.

His guests usually had questions like "why am I here?", "how did I get here?" or "am I dead?", and any other stupid question mortals can think of, but this one was new. This question stopped him in the middle of his thought, with a book already in his hand. He almost threw a clever answer at her, but then he turned around to see as her clothes were completely open on the back. He admired the sight for the moment before politely turned his look away with a naughty smile on his face.

" What do you think? "- he asked back, as he forgot what comeback was in his mind before he admired her round butt a moment ago.

She realised he is behind her, so she turned quickly, to hide her back from the Curator, who seemed to focus on the book in his hand, hiding the childish smile he was still wearing.

"Would you mind turning around while I fix my clothes?" – she asked and tried to blush, but if she could be honest to herself, (which was not possible because she was always told she has to be normal,) she would be laughing.

"Of course!" – he replied, roaming back to his desk, not turning towards her at all, partly out of modesty, but mostly because he wanted to hide the smirk on his face. He was entertained above all expectations, and not by a half naked young lady in his office, but by her awkward way to appear normal, making her the most unusual person he ever met.

"I'm done" - she announced her victory over the disobedient fabric, after she stripped naked, turned her gown around, and improvised a dress crossing the strings XD in front of her, but she had to hold it, or the dress would show everything on the front, what was shown on the back before – "almost done I mean. Can I borrow your knife?" – she gestured towards the letter knife on his desk. If she could concentrate for a minute, she could recognise it as a weapon.

The Curator turned around just to see this young lady holding the fabric on herself and could not help to show a warm smile. She was creative, brave, cheeky at the same time. She was perfect. And refreshingly chaotic. He walked slowly towards her, tilting his head slightly, never breaking eye contact. He approached her with an unfathomable smile, playing with a golden detailed knife in his hand. He didn't really want to scare her, he was curious what unnatural way she would respond to the threatening situation. She was standing his stare like it would be the most natural thing in life, standing almost naked not knowing where she is, or with whom, when the person in question holds a knife. She could not be further from normal. He was amused. Little he knew that Lucy was convinced she succeeded to look normal. She was aware of the strange man walking towards her with a knife, but a normal person would not freak out, because she asked for it. Isn't it right? Plus Lucy could not freak out, because she had a hundred ideas of this place, and this man, and a hundred more plans to figure out every mystery of him ran through her brain at the moment.

The Curator handed her the elegant paper knife, with a curious look on his face. What would she do with it?

"Thank you" – she nodded, wearing the most innocent expression she could, and started to make holes to her gown, to pull the strings through, but in the meantime not to let go of the fabric to reveal herself to this strange man.

The Curator let her struggle a bit with the knife partly because he didn't want to invade her personal space, and partly because he found her actions more than entertaining. He expected her to do anything but tailoring with a knife. When she almost let go of both strings at the same time, he started to laugh. His voice was soothing, and his laughter was contagious, especially since Lucy was holding back her chuckles the whole time. A normal person would not make fun of this situation, but she found it hilarious. She gave in to chuckles, looking to the Curator to share the pure comedic joy of this whole situation. She felt more welcomed by him than by anyone, anywhere, ever.

"Do you mind if I help you with that? "– he asked with a warm smile, and she just nodded, still smiling, as the Curator took the knife from her hand. With a slight of the hand he made a small hole into the fabric. His hands were warm and gentle, as he slid one hand between the fabrics, and finally pulled the string through with his knife holding hand. She wrapped the other part of the fabric around, took the other string from the Curator's soft hand and secured it properly behind her back. While he leaned in to help, she could not place his fragrance, but it was a complicated, complementing collection of scents. It was pleasant.

Lucy felt safe and calm around the Curator, which was crazy, considering the situation. "But it's okay," - she thought to herself - "since I am clinically diagnosed as crazy."

The Curator stepped back putting his hands behind his back to admire his work. She looked like the perfect disaster, with her messy light brown bun, young smiling face, and a certain look in her eye, which was somehow still out of the ordinary. He could not yet put his finger on what was so strange about this young woman. How old could she be? Most certainly less than twenty. "She had so much time ahead of her"- he thought - "what a shame!"

"Now I'm really done!" – she smiled at him, and felt more cheerful, and free than ever. She turned around to show off her hand made dress. – "What do you think?" – she asked if he would be her trustworthy adviser.

"Oh young lady, you most certainly are not done, you haven't even started" – he replied. She acted like they knew each other for a long time now. He never saw anyone develop Stockholm Syndrome that fast, it added another point to the list of strange things about her, but he accepted her trust as a compliment.

"You look astonishing in your new dress." – He bowed his head to her, which should have made Lucy blush, but she was already thinking about the book on the Curator's desk, made several theories about the man in front of him, and created even more excuses not to try to act "normal" anymore. There was a certain look in this man's eyes that made her feel safe. Not in a sense, that nothing dangerous would happen, while he is around. No, quite the opposite, his presence promised more than danger. But she felt safe in another way. She felt safe to be crazy.

"And what is your answer to my other question?" – she asked, forming an impudent smile – "Where is the dust, Sir?"