By midnight, we were all giddy and drunk, letting the drinks fill our heads and our inebriated smiles make the atmosphere. Margery and Miles were on the lively and delighted side, holding loud and open conversations with humorous tracks leading them. I was quiet, so drunk, however, that I found my wonder leading me to see how beautiful the reflection of others and the champagne itself was in the thick glass with ice, small and nimble swirling around slowly and yet swiftly as if time managed to reach down and play with my mind only. Oh sure, it plays the minds of everyone and mines all the time when I feel time should be going faster when I am in class and we have done our lessons, only to find, behind the teacher's desk and spotting the grandfather clock, seeing that we have 30 more minutes of class, or when I am asleep and thinking time is unsurely building from day to night when I am met with a cooing bird outside my window warning me that it is day, time to rise.
My thoughts are interrupted by the booming laughs Margery and Miles share with other students from Springsteen and other universities in the area crowding around. Admittedly, this was a bar for college students, and I am not sure why I am now realizing or understanding why there were so many here.
And then I focus back on the glass once more. I was grateful they appreciated my love of solitude and left me to my own devices, but sometimes solitude has a way of descending into loneliness, and loneliness in a crowd never lets one alone to peace. Such is the life of mines as a college student. I went farther than any of my family, farther than I ever thought I would go, but is it where I need to be? Will the world I am looking for, dreaming of, be the end-all and the sum of my life?
"More drinks!" Margery shouts in her uninhibited state, and she could afford to do that because of the ease of her elegant and righteously down-to-earth looks she has. It broke me out of my reverie again, but this time, another set of people and conversation entered the prism of my head.
"Yeah, I go to Springsteen. It's a rich kid school where everyone has connections, etc. That's not the point, the point is I know about a book that can lead into the backdoor of an alternative world from ours, an alternative world where beings that are well hidden in this world are out in the open and thriving. Or at least some of them." My ears perk up and I turn to look at the girl telling the story. She had a pleasant and handsome face, and it was filled with ease and something greater than just interest. She had paused to take a drink and I was caught up on the hook of her words, so much so that it was tempting to ask her to continue.
"It's called 'The Otherworldly Fault' and somewhere deep in the crevices of the school library. No one truly knows where it is. Not even by the other user who put it there some many years ago. Apparently, her name is Eunice Westbrook, and she had to get back to this world with the help of witches."
"Is it true?" blurted one of the girls from the table.
"That is what she states, and I believe it. The world she described, however gorgeous and appears a dream, there are brutal regimes and reigns everywhere, particularly by elves."
The group around her laughs, but I find myself more and more taken by this world. A place that I could escape full of beings great and powerful. Perhaps I could become powerful. She gives a frown at them, but it flashes so quickly, looking unfocused you would've missed it. But on she went with the story.
"Eunice Westbrooke tried telling anyone who would listen what was in there. What happened to her and the brutalities she'd witness. Dark gods who desire violence and sacrifices of both the innocent and the damned. Of Soldiers who rape and mauled. Demons who were bare masses of flesh, yet powerful in their own right. No one believed her and thought her insane and was then outcast from her rich benefactress life into the side of the living and working poor."
A shiver arose through me, something that almost sobered me up. Yet, this did nothing to deter me from wanting to go where I must.
"Hey." Her voice rang out and I focused back on her, seeing her look back at me with interest yet with familiarity.
"You're the librarian at Springsteen. I can't believe I just noticed you. I have seen you around. Have you've never heard of this legend?" Her group turns to face me.
"Never heard of the legend but working in the library there have been whisperings indeed."
"Well… do you believe? Are you convinced?" she paused, in thought. "Have you've ever run into Eunice?"
I almost choked, but quickly regained usage of my mouth. Just before I could answer, I was interrupted by the voice of her friends.
"Wynona, you're scaring the poor girl! Not one person believes in your stories."
"Folklore and fables. Besides no one has ever seen Eunice Westbrook. She probably doesn't exist." Another one of her friends piped in.
Then Wynona began to argue with them, so I turned back and sat facing my friends, who were looking at me, yet my mind was somewhere else. I was sober in hope and drunk with my dreams.
"So, you finally join us," Miles notes with an amused drawl.
"It's not like you both were bothered with my company anyways. Besides, I quite liked the conversation they were having at the next table."
"What did they talk about?" Margery curiously jumped in.
"A world alternate to ours only found in the book 'The Otherworldly Fault.' "Then I clamped my mouth on talking further about the subject and began to drink my champagne again and look out at the night sky.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see Margery exchanging a frown with Miles and Miles exchanging a worried glint in his smirk.
"You're not thinking of finding that book, are you Vanity?" Miles uttered quietly.
"What's it to you?" I retorted back cautiously. "It's not even real."
"I know you Vanity. We overheard, or at least I overheard the story spoke. Let me tell you something, the story I told you…if you don't remember anything else from this, know this, the supernatural is not to be played. Once you play with it, in this world or maybe even in the next, things change and not for the good." Miles stared with force and his voice was commanding.
"Why do you think you know me so well if you don't understand I wouldn't even touch this book, if only just to study it." As I am saying the words, I am trembling.
"Just don't trust the book, Vanity," Miles replied. I pursed my lips and look away.
"I am going home now," I mumble and rose clumsily on my feet.
"At least let us ride with you home Vanity. Anything could happen in those carriages. You'd be safer if we came along." reasoned Margery.
Sighing, I put my guard down and allow them to walk with me outside the bar into the cold and bustling winds and almost winter-like rain.
We spoke barely, as people filed past us into the bar. It was a particularly busy night.
Finally, a black carriage pulled up and we three climbed in.
"To Paramount hill please," I muttered and looked aside at the rain pouring down, wondering if in this world, among us humans, invisible and lurking beings we are ignorant of? Should I leave this to the wayside, this journey I sought out? Will it all be for naught?
As if hearing my thoughts, Margery places a hand on mine and smiles tenderly at me. I try to smile back, but it only appears as a straight line and noncommittal. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see that we are pulling into the entryway of our house. A small smile rose to my face.
"Good to see you smiling," Miles spoke up.
"Yes, I am so glad to see you lighting back up as you usually are and trying to remain positive."
"Of course, Margery. Miles. I realize that I must work dutifully for the improvement of my life in this world. I understand now."
I nod at them cheerfully and say my goodbyes. Then, as I walked towards my door, my grin grew fuller and chilled.
I open the door, with new uplift and firmness in my soul. The hooves of the horse-drawn carriage drive me and it is as if I am not able to sleep for the energy within has been renewed. But, alas, I went up to my stairs and stripped my clothes, and closed my eyes to rest, knowing that tomorrow will be the day I swipe the book from the library, no matter how long it'd take, no matter what may be the cost. I must escape!