Heartstrings.

Arianne Cooland is not entirely sure what possessed her to stop in the middle of nowhere rural Alberta, of all places, but here she is… alone, depressed and full of regret, stationed in front of an old run-down barn. However, if she’s going to be honest with herself from now on, there are several reasons for why she ended up in this position…

First and foremost, feeling like a failure in every aspect of her life. From her long-term relationship, which is forced sometimes, to the parenting of her two toddlers, who grate every nerve, making the women lose it more often than not. There’s also her career, which is nonexistent since she’s changed her mind dozens of times about it. Let's not forget her constant giving up on goals and proceeding to blame the world, rather than taking responsibility for her own choices and actions… such as the ones that lead the redhead to a rickety old barn.

The faded structure stands by it’s lonesome in an overgrown field filled with grass and weeds taller than the average kid. Nothing about it is special. 'It’s basic,’ as youth say. Wooden and rectangular with a few loose boards and old windows, slightly run down and likely half a century old. The classic sliding barn-style door is undoubtedly the most beautiful part of the building, with intricate and detailed designs carved into its hardwood. It depicts a woman being pulled in three different directions by strings connected to her heart.

The longest cord leads North, where a figure stands holding the hand of two small children. Another ends eastward at a door, its frame peaking open to an array of colors, perfectly placed as to welcome guests inside a world of color. Lastly, the third ties around a lone flower in the west. A marigold possibly?

Unable to help herself, the thirty-year-old trails closer, touching the smooth and glossy laminate, her fingertips tracing the wood edges of the markings. Someone put a lot of work into this. Weeks or months, maybe even years, she realized. To master such a craft would take passion and time… yet the women’s first impression was that this place is nothing special. Hard proof of how much pessimism and negativity cloud her judgement in everyday life… add that to the list of failures too, she jokes bitterly to herself.

No. Not anymore. Right here and now is where I’ll make a change. This place. This barn. There’s something about it that almost feels familiar. Since her arrival, a warm and welcoming sensation has settled upon the red headed women. It’s the most serene she’s felt in a long time...as if she’s right where she’s meant to be. Sure, the idea that destiny played apart is completely ridiculous and cliché to her, but what else could explain the tranquil certainty of belonging deep within.

Will going inside make that feeling stronger? Or will it go away completely?

What’s in there anyway, barnyard things or something unusual?

If I try to go inside without permission, wouldn’t it be breaking and entering? Even if the door is unlocked?

Is the mystery of this all meant to lure me in, where some psychopath is waiting to cut me up from head to toe and limb to limb?

Screw it, she decides. Either keep questioning the endless possibilities of who, what, where, why, when and how. Or bite the bullet and see if it’s open. If not, I’ll consider that a sign from the universe to move on.

On that note, her feet take the last remaining steps towards the entrance, her narrow fingers slipping into the handle and pulling the door rightwards. Surprisingly, it glides over easily and knocks Aria off balance, multiple curses escaping her mouth as she barely catches herself from failing down. Afterwards, the women straightened up with a sigh of relief before looking at what’s inside.

Huh… just an empty old barn? Bare other than dust, spider webs, and a door that probably leads outback. That’s it? Everything I felt outside just now was in my imagination? Am I really that desperate to find meaning in anything nowadays? Scoffing at her dark musings, Ari crosses the threshold, creaking old floorboards eerily while slowly closing the distance to the next door. Again, she grasped the knob, ready to find an empty field, but hesitating at the last moment.

Even if I’ve never been a big fan of scary movies, this whole scene is starting to feel a lot like I’m partaking in one… the summary of which, would likely go something like this: thirty-year-old mother of two leaves behind day-to-day life in search of anything to make her feel whole and complete. What she didn’t account for was the horrors she’d be facing on the journey… TO HER END. Coming to theaters October 30th, 2021, witness a fear like no other, The Old Barn. Cue a few overdone shots of me screaming and running towards the Barn, rather than away, and voila, horror film of the century.

Knowing if she continues with this train of thought, she’d likely psych herself out and run away, Arianne finally twists the knob, shoving the barrier open. What meets her vibrant brown eyes seconds later is something entirely unexpected. Instead of grassland or meadows, a stunning library lies within a magnificent chamber. Thousands upon thousands of books line the mahogany shelving on the walls, lit by the light of an elegant crystal chandelier hanging at the center. Mix matched couches, chairs, stools and benches are spread throughout the large space, along with tables and desks stacked with more shattered books.

What the hell?

Suddenly, slight movement in the back corner catches Ari's attention, the women quickly spotting a hooded figure lounging on a rather comfortable looking, burgundy velvet chair. Their legs are stretched out, resting on a matching ottoman as they flip through pages of a big book.

Is that the owner?

“I suppose you could call me that, but I prefer caretaker. No one really owns this place permanently, as it passes on to another every century or so.” The cloaked dweller says out of the blue, their tone rugged yet smooth. Narrowing her eyes at the covered body, Arianne journeys closer, passing around a few tables, halting to leave enough room to give herself a chance of escape.

Is he reading my mind?

“Perhaps I am. There’s no reason to be afraid Arianne Cooland. I’m harmless.”

Holy shit, the thirty-year-old thinks, shuffling closer and pausing behind a royal purple and gold oval shaped couch, directly across from the Mindreader.

Their voice sounds familiar.

The enigma repositions, tossing their current reading material amongst others on the small table and crossing their ankles casually. “I’ll explain that in a minute. You’re welcomed to talk by the way. Just because I know what you’ll say doesn’t mean you need to be silent.”

Oh.

“Sorry. I’m just a little lost.” Aria admits out loud.

The hooded individual chuckles. “A little?”

The redheads left eye twitched. Rude. “Fine. I’m a lot lost.”

“In more ways than one, right?” They hummed knowingly.

“Are you psychic or something?”

“Something.” They say, waving her to sit down.

Vague. Arianne obliged, moving to settle into the plush sofa and motioning at the green weathered cloak. “Are you going to continue wearing that or?”

“Are you certain you’d like me to remove it? I could be an alien or other worldly creature of sort.”

Ungracefully, the mom of two snorts. “That just makes me want you to take it off even more.”

“I knew you'd say that.” The hidden being remarked.

“So why ask?”

Another annoying chuckle. “For entertainment. Very few people stumble across this place.”

Aria leans forward. “I know you… not personally, but from a movie or something. I’m almost certain of it.”

“I’m not who I appear to be, it’s merely a form. To everyone I manifest differently.”

“Are you God?” What a thing that would be considering I never believed in such stuff.

“Not exactly… some have referred to me as God or Goddess, but I’m more so an entity of higher power. A simple being that possesses a source of magic within one of the many universes.”

Their words earn a glower from the women. “I wouldn’t consider that simple.”

“Compared to those who hold much more.”

“You’re a complex bundle of never-ending rhetorical answers and mysteries, huh?” Arianne drawls, earning a genuine laugh from the stranger, who finally tugs their hood backwards. As it falls, she gasps. “I knew it! I don’t know how I didn’t make the connection immediately. I’ve seen the movies multiple times.”

“97 times each to be precise. One would say you were slightly obsessed with Lord of The Rings for a number of years.” Peter Jackson’s Aragorn, played by Viggo Mortensen enlightens her.

“Can you blame me? It’s a great trilogy. The books are classics, and the films did them justice.” At least in my opinion anyway. “Tolkien had an incredible knack for detailed descriptions of everything he wrote. It takes a lot of talent to bring that to life.”

“Tolkien had quite the imagination... as do you Miss Cooland.”

“Is this place in my imagination? Or am I dreaming? I’m probably passed out in my car somewhere, right?”

“This is very much real.”

Burying the urge to scoff, Aria raises her brow in question. “Right. So, what is this place?”

“It’s a home away from home, for most.” The Aragorn look-a-like says amidst producing a single yellow marigold from thin air and twirling it between his fingers.

“To read?”

“To live. These books hold worlds to explore with endless adventures under every cover.”

Tilting her head, she ventures a guess at what he means. “Are you saying that I can go inside any one of these?”

“You catch on quick.”

That settles it. I’m dreaming.

“There’s only one way to find out.” Not-Aragorn nods to the shelves.

“Is-” “Yes. You’ll find it in the section over there. Manga too.” The Entity directs using the Marigold.

Manga! Excitement vibrates throughout Arianne, who scoots from the couch to the area pointed out. Rows of famous novels fill the shelf; her brown irises search for a specific one, finding it a moment later and pulling it free. The Hobbit... I wonder if living the story enables me to change it?

“It does. Though once you willingly leave, or die, it returns to the original storyline.”

With her nonverbal question answered, Aria pattered to the Manga, looking for the one she’d most like to experience and promptly pulling free Volume 1 of Naruto. Soon, the women returns to the couch, resuming her previous position and glancing over the two works of art in her lap. “So, what’s the catch?”

“I was wondering when you’d ask that... do you recall the artwork carved into the door outside?”

“The women with the strings?”

“Remember how you felt looking at it?”

Like I was meant to be here…

“Exactly. Think hard on it.”

What…?

It only takes a minute for redhead to clue in. Oh. “She’s me.”

The Mindreader nods. “Precisely. Your heartstrings have always pulled you in two separate directions: family and fantasy.”

“What does that have to do with the magic in these books?”

“Magic comes with consequence.”

Of course. Equivalent exchange and all that.

“Time spent in there, will cost you time lost out here.”

My family…

“You say they drive you crazy... are you willing to give that up?”

A chance to live a thousand lives... is that worth time lost with them?

“What about the third string, with the flower?”

“It represents an opportunity.”

“For?”

“A quest.”

“What kind?”

“The dangerous yet rewarding kind.”

“Tell me.”

The Aragorn look-a-like grins at the redhead’s eager tone. "Patience. Why don't you take a gander inside those stories? Free of charged time. Upon your return, I'll explain."

Uncertain, Arianne thumbs the novels’ cover in contemplation. “I think… I’ll- “

To be continued.