The Bookseller

The streets of New York City were dripping with water, making it almost impossible to drive. With no taxis and Ubers on the road, Margot Steenhold was trapped outside with no way home. She relied on these forms of transportation, and hoped one would magically appear in front of her. But like everything, things weren't as easy as clicking your heels. Her phone had died halfway through the night while she partied with strangers, wasting away her twenty-thousand dollar lottery win as much as she could, oblivious to the raging rainstorm. All she could do now was use her coat as an umbrella as she carelessly strode down the street, fortunate that there were no cars in sight, besides the stray cat she saw scatter toward an alley, as it eyed her with its' narrowed glowing eyes. "What are you looking at, you stupid cat?" Margot spat at it, her words slurred together, but enough for the cat to turn away and flee.

The night had been a disaster never the less, ending with a broken heart and a very drunken state of mind. She stumbled on her new heels, tripping in the crevises the streets had to offer. Margot had a hard time walking in her heels, so she slipped them off and continued to walk barefoot down the sidewalk. She knew walking home wasn't an option, especially at this hour when being alone was not the best idea.

She kept glancing side to side, front and backward, afraid someone may be lurking in the shadows. New York City hadn't ever looked this scary to her, this bare and silent. On a night that seemed to be completely empty, it gave off this mysteriously dangerous impression.

Even worse, all the buildings around her seemed to have lost their light. There were street lamps to act as a guide, of course, but it seemed as if the power had gone out for a lot of skyscrapers. Margot had never felt so small, yet so visible in the city before. As she continued to search for a subway, she felt naked under the eerily lit street lamps.

"Dammit, Margot. You could've just stayed in," she muttered to herself, feeling dizzy with annoyance. She disliked every bit of the situation she was in and made a mental note to never stay in the city alone after dark again.

After a few minutes of trying to find a subway, a sign even, she gave up. She sat on the edge of the sidewalk, her five-hundred-dollar dress dripping in water and now filthy from a New York City sidewalk. Nothing seemed to have a price tag in Margot's life anymore, or matter in the slightest. She didn't know what to do with her jackpot, her life. It's almost as if the twenty-thousand dollars she'd been so fortunate to win wasn't really so lucky after all. Where had it gotten her anyway? On a dirty sidewalk with a broken heart after she had been dumped? Margot didn't want the money; she wanted a life.

By the time she was practically a human puddle —partially from her own tears— she had spied a building only a few blocks away with a sign glowing yellow. She decided she had nowhere else to go but this mysterious building to ask for directions, which was one of the only a-glow buildings within miles. She walked over to what she found out was some run-down-looking bookstore. It seemed open by how light mirrored off the windows from the inside, though very faint, and the sign on the door reading 24-hour book store.

Before walking in, she wondered if this even was a bookstore. Its old structure made it look like a haunted house more than anything. But Margot didn't question it much since there was a sign and light. Besides, she was scared enough outside, so this couldn't possibly be any worse.

She opened the door with a creak, peeking inside for signs of life. But all she saw were bookshelves lined up in symmetrical lines, though the dust-filled air made it hard to see anything at all. Maybe it's abandoned, Margot thought as she walked inside, shivering from the cold outside. The lights flickered weakly above her, and she wondered if they would suddenly shut off and something terrible would happen to her. That's what horror novels would predict, anyway.

She found a mirror on the wall beside the door, temporarily glancing at her reflection, only now seeing how wet she was. Her dress was almost see-through now, and her mascara dripped down her face from the rain. But she was too tired to care and occupied by other issues. There was a front desk at the end of the building, a small bell perched on top of it. The floor tiles creaked and squeaked as she made her way over to the back.

Only as she was walking did she notice the fine woodwork that shaped and constructed the shelves. She ran her fingers along the smooth surfaces, managing to wipe off some of the dust that covered them.

When she found her way to the back desk, she tried ringing the bell a couple of times for signs of life, a guide, of anything. But no one came. She didn't even hear any other noises besides her own breathing and, of course, the occasional mouse scatter.

She felt like crying now, with absolutely no way home. But in that instant, she heard weary breathing beside her. She jumped back, letting a squeak of fear leave her lips. An aged man, with a gray beard and mustache, was suddenly standing next to the desk. His eyes lingered on Margot, looking her up and down suspiciously. But as far as Margot was concerned, he was the one who looked suspicious.

For a moment, they just stared at each other until the man broke the silence. "How may I help you?" he said rustily. His voice sounded like a nail against a blackboard, a knife against a bottle.

"I-" she began to say but didn't quite know what else to add. She was speechless. But soon enough, her brain flicked to a start again, and she spoke more frantically. "I got stuck in the rain and need directions to a subway so I can get home. Would you mind helping me?"

He looked at her momentary before asking, "what's your name?"

Margot, don't give him your name. You don't know him, Margot's conscience told her. But the words slipped out of her mouth before she could think better of it. "Margot. Margot Steenhold."

She held her breath, regretting her words, but the man only nodded and walked toward a bookshelf to her left. After a moment, he appeared beside her holding a black book. It was small but very wide, like one of the diaries Margot had back when she was ten years old. It flooded her with old memories, and she smiled momentarily about who she used to be: Pure, kind, happy, and free. Free of the worries of the world, the struggles of heartbreak, of life itself.

"You wanted directions? Here. This is yours." He handed her the black book, and it felt smooth and glossy against her wet hands.

"There are... directions in here?" Margot asked the man, unsure what it held. She wanted to ask what he meant when he said it was hers, but the words didn't come.

The man didn't respond to her at first, thinking. But after a short second, he nodded. "You have already decided the direction you went in the past. Your future, on the other hand, is full of directions yet to be decided. However, you can still decide the direction you take now, in your present."

They made eye contact, and only then did Margot see his eyes up close for the first time. Grey. Almost lifeless. But so full of knowledge they were. You could tell by the deepness, by the way the grey colors overlapped in his eyes, creating this complicated tunnel that went farther than Margot could see. His eyes seemed to almost be a library of knowledge.

When she drifted out of her haze, Margot didn't know how to respond to his remark. Was it a question? Advice? So, she just stood there, eyes locked with the man as she wondered.

"What direction do you decide to take?" the man finally said.

"I decide..." she started but stopped. What did she decide? And for what? Her present? Her life? She didn't even know what he meant.

She didn't answer, instead turned her attention to the book in her hand. Just as she was about to open it, the man abruptly said, "stop."

Margot looked up again to see the man shake his head. "You can't read it," he said. "That is... unless you want to know your future."

"My what?" Margot said quizzically.

"Your future," the man said again, this time more carefully. "This— this is the story of—" he scrunched up his nose, thinking, "your life."

Margot's mouth must have dropped open because when she tried to talk again, her mouth ached. Without thinking, she opened the book to the first page. It read, Margot Steenhold: 2000-2087.

"I told you not to open it," the man sighed in defeat. Margot was too shocked to speak, too stunned and confused. How could that book have possibly had her name engraved on its page, and... her life-span: 2000-2087. She wanted to unsee those numbers, wanted to know for herself when the time was right to die. But know she would always be ready. She should've just listened to the man.

"Who are you?" Margot said, bewildered. "And what happens if I look through the book?"

"Well, you will know your past, present, and future. This book you're holding — it's your book of life. I have a book of life too. I knew you were coming here. I knew you would get your book. This was... fate."

"But who are you?" Margot asked again, this time more impatiently.

"I am a bookseller. There are millions of booksellers around the world." The man gestured to the bookshelves. "We are the keepers of the books of life. We keep them safe and wait for the day when a certain person comes to retrieve their book. All the people who have books here will all wind up here at some point in their life by fate, but the decision whether to take their book or not is completely their own."

Margot simply nodded. That was all the answer she seemed to need at the moment. Now she wondered carefully if she should open the book, and what she would find if she did? She'd always gawked over her future, always dreamed. If she found out now, what would be the fun in dreaming when the reality was already there?

There was something exciting about the unknown, something spontaneous. But what did her future hold? She nodded to herself. In that moment, she knew one thing and one thing only: she didn't want to know.