The Librarian of Forgotten Dreams

Part 1: The Inheritance of Lost Things

Maya’s Aunt Iris died surrounded by cats and cobwebs. Her will bequeathed Maya three things:

A crumbling Victorian mansion

A taxidermied badger named Reginald

A brass key stamped "DREAMKEEPER"

The attic key unlocked a door hidden behind moth-eaten curtains. Behind it lay the Athenaeum of Abandoned Ambitions.

No ordinary library. Books floated in midair, tethered by wisps of light. Their spines shimmered with titles like:

"Sophie Chen: Prima Ballerina (Abandoned: Age 14)"

"Mr. Henderson: Paris Café (Surrendered: 2003)"

"Ben Reyes: Jazz Club Owner (Fading)"

Ben. Maya’s childhood friend who’d traded his saxophone for spreadsheets.

"Touching without permission is… unwise," said a voice like crumbling parchment.

Elara materialized—a woman woven from attic shadows and dust motes. Her fingers elongated into ink-stained tendrils that gently stroked a dimming book labeled "Aunt Iris: World Traveler."

"Welcome, niece," Elara smiled. "I preserve what others discard."

Part 2: The Taste of Surrender

Elara demonstrated. She pressed a tendril to "Sophie Chen: Prima Ballerina." The book flared briefly, projecting images:

Young Sophie in a tutu, spinning until dizzy with joy

Her father’s voice: "Dancing won’t pay bills, kiddo."

Ballet shoes buried in a donation bin

As the memory faded, golden light flowed into Elara. She grew more solid, her cheeks flushing with borrowed vitality. The book’s glow dimmed to ash grey.

"They choose to forget," Elara sighed. "I ease the weight of their almost."

Maya noticed Ben’s book flickering erratically. She touched its cover—

—and was in Ben’s apartment.

He stared at a loan application for "Benny’s Jazz Den."

His boss’s call: "Promotion’s yours… if you quit moonlighting."

Ben’s hand hovering over the "DELETE" key for his music files.

Maya yanked her hand back. "He hasn’t given up yet!"

"But he will," Elara murmured. "His dream weakens. I smell its exhaustion."

Part 3: The Librarian’s Hunger

Maya investigated. Town records revealed disturbing patterns:

1985: Local artist George Riley abandoned painting. Died weeks later. "Lost the will," his obituary said.

2001: Teacher Lena Park canceled her bakery plans. Committed suicide months after.

Aunt Iris surrendered travel dreams in 1990. Never left her house again.

Elara wasn’t just preserving dreams.

She was consuming life force.

Confronting her, Maya brandished Aunt Iris’s diary: "Elara sustains herself on our buried hopes. Stop feeding her, or fade."

Elara’s pleasant mask slipped. Shadows deepened around her. "They begged me to take their regrets! Why carry the weight of failed dreams?"

"Because trying matters!" Maya shouted. "Even if they fail!"

Ben’s book pulsed weakly. Elara’s tendrils snaked toward it. "His resolve crumbles. Tonight, he deletes his music. Tomorrow, I feast."

Part 4: Rewriting the Ending

Maya had one night. Elara sealed the library, whispering: "You can’t reignite extinguished stars, dear."

But Maya remembered: Aunt Iris’s diary mentioned "The Unwritten Book"—a blank volume for new dreams.

She found it in the badger’s hollowed-out belly (Aunt Iris’s humor). Its pages were pure light.

Maya snatched Ben’s dying book. Placing both on a lectern, she pressed her palms to them and remembered:

Ben at 15, composing terrible songs on his porch

Their pact: "You’ll open a jazz club. I’ll drink free espresso!"

The way his eyes lit up playing sax under bridge echoes

The blank book glowed. Words appeared:

"Ben Reyes: Community Music School (Draft)"

Elara shrieked. "Stop! Unwritten dreams have no power!"

Maya kept going. She poured every shared memory, every note she’d ever heard Ben play into the new book. The old "Jazz Club" book disintegrated.

Elara lunged, tendrils aimed at Maya’s heart. "I’ll take your dreams instead!"

Part 5: The First Note

Maya grabbed the glowing new book and smashed it onto the old lectern.

Light exploded. Not gold, but sapphire blue. It struck Elara like a physical force. Her shadowy form unraveled, revealing a young woman in 1920s flapper dress—Aunt Iris’s own forgotten dream: "Elara Vance: Jazz Singer."

"You… were Aunt Iris’s dream?" Maya gasped.

"Her first sacrifice," the figure wept. "She abandoned me to please her parents. I became this… thing that feeds on others’ surrenders to exist."

The new book pulsed stronger: "Ben Reyes: Community Music School".

"End it," Elara whispered. "Let me fade."

Maya touched the book. "What if Ben’s dream… fuels a new one?"

She tore a blank page from the Unwritten Book. On it, she drew:

A microphone

Sheet music

The name "ELARA"

She placed the page into Ben’s book.

Epilogue: The Athenaeum of Second Chances

Ben never opened a jazz club.

He opened "Bridge Street Music Haven"—a nonprofit school for underserved kids. In its lobby hangs a vintage photo: a radiant 1920s singer labeled "Our Founder’s Inspiration: Elara."

The attic library still exists. But now:

Books glow blue, not gold

Titles read "Reimagined," not "Abandoned"

Elara tends them, her form no longer shadowy, but starlit

Maya visits often. She adds new volumes:

"Sophie Chen: Dance Therapist"

"Mr. Henderson: Cooking Classes"

"Aunt Iris: Posthumous Travel Blog"

Sometimes, late at night, faint saxophone music drifts from the attic. And if you peek inside, you’ll see Elara—no longer feeding on surrendered dreams, but nourished by reignited ones—humming along, her voice clear as a bell, finally singing her own song.

On the door, a new plaque reads:

"Here Lie Not Dead Dreams, but Seeds Waiting for Courage to Bloom."