Azure Alley, Alexander Street—Whitehorse
The sun stood in the azure sky, shining radiantly as it dispelled its rays into the surrounding filling it with warmth and brightness. Birds flew here and there, perching in a paradigmatic manner on the rooftops of the terrace buildings which lined both sides of Azure Alley. Angry dogs could be heard barking from their cages at the meowing cats which teased them, their eyes bloodshot with rage. All these were the attributes of the smallest alley in Alexander Street, Whitehorse.
Cassio shuffled along the concrete pavement, both hands in his pocket. His movement was so slow that it seemed as if the black leather backpack slung across his back was a heavy log of wet wood. As he walked, his eyes met the cold gazes of people who viewed him with contempt.
"Hush, here comes the demonic kid," a mother who was leaving the house with her 3-year old daughter immediately went back into the house, slamming it shut.
"What a pity the Humphreys adopted him."
"Does he communicate with demons?"
"Which demon is he possessed by? Legion? Beelzebub?"
"Does he usually have the intent of killing us humans? You know, demons can be pretty obsessed with that."
Cassio could hear the faint murmurs from the people walking past him. Sometimes, they said the words very loud for a deaf person to hear. Their words were so much filled with disdain that Cassio couldn't help but feel very dismal as he tottered towards his house which was on the 10th Block. In Azure Alley, houses were numbered like this.
"Sigh," Cassio sighed as he closed his eyes for some moments, trying to shut out what the people were saying about him from his mind. He tried making himself not to think too much about the words they spat out but he couldn't achieve such an effect.
Staring ahead of him, he even became gloomier as he remembered he was going home. He was now at the 5th Block, five blocks away from from the block his house was located. He didn't want to get home on time as he knew what awaited him the moment he stepped into the house. He didn't want to bump into his drunk and jobless stepfather who always sat at the sitting room, watching CNN. He knew that if he were to come into the house, it would be another nerve breaking fiasco as Mr. Humphrey delighted in maltreating him. He still had memories of the scars on his body—the scars which were still fresh, concealed beneath his clothes.
"Maybe it's because it's called the sitting room," Cassio said to himself with a scoff. "Drunk and jobless stepfather."
He took a turn to his right, stopping in front of a building which was identical to others. On top of the door of the building was a board bearing the inscriptions: THOMPSON LIBRARY.
This library belonged to a genial middle-aged librarian. This man was the only person in the whole world who was friendly to Cassio and listened to his tales of woeful experience with people. This man was the only person who pitied his condition and lent him an ear as well as giving him valuable advices about how to survive in this wretched world where nobody loved him. This man went by the name Old Thompson, rebuffing whoever called him Mr. Thompson, Grandpa or Sir with a mild smile. He too was queer and never gave reasons why he shouldn't be called Mr. Thompson, Grandpa or Sir.
He reached his left hand to the doorknob, turning it open as he walked into the library. He was wafted by the acrid smell of books which covered the bookshelves standing in the small library. Behind desks in the library sat several people, engrossed in their readings. At the end of the library sat a middle-aged man with grey hair and grey eyes, attending to the customers filed up in a queue. Of course, they wanted to borrow books. As small as the library was, it didn't lack customers as it was always crowded.
This grey-haired and grey-eyed middle-aged man was none other than the genial librarian, Old Thompson.
"Well, people have to read," Cassio muttered to himself, staring in the direction of Old Thompson. Old Thompson looked in his direction and smiled, nodding at Cassio who nodded.
Seeing Old Thompson smile, the customers on the queue couldn't help but turn the heads to look in Cassio's direction.
Cassio gulped as he was met with eyes of several people. Then the murmuring began and the customers began trooping out. Those who were engrossed in their readings noticed the commotion and turned to look at Cassio. Seeing him, they all dropped their books and left in a hurry.
"The vessel of Satan is here again," many of them sighed, walking past Cassio in a hurry. They kept their distance lest the demon in Cassio also possessed them. In a short time, the library which had been full was deserted.
Cassio looked down at his feet in sadness. He wasn't sad that the people shunned him. No, it was the norm. He was sad that Old Thompson had actually lost his profit for that day.
"Don't be a codfish and come over here," Old Thompson smiled warmly, beckoning onto him.
Cassio sighed and walked up to him, taking a chair and sitting beside Old Thompson who was still smiling.
"This world is a wretched world, son," Old Thompson said. "Don't expect any love from people."
"I wasn't expecting anything from these barbarians," Cassio said flatly. "I'm just concerned about your business."
"Don't mind 'em people, they always come to read everyday," the middle-aged man said. "When you leave, they're going to troop back in immediately."
Cassio nodded with a solemn expression. Then he said, "Do you have any books for me to read?"
Old Thompson chuckled, "Books, you say? There are tons of them. You could sleep in piles all day!"
The joke was intended to make Cassio laugh but he didn't. He still wore his serious expression and wasn't moved not even for the genial Old Thompson.
"I see you're depressed as always," Old Thompson stopped laughing and gave Cassio a worried look. "You think about them bad things?"
"No, it's normal for me to be treated like this," Cassio said calmly. And of course, it was true. The feeling of being rejected and held with acrimony had become integrated to Cassio's life. He felt it was now a part of him now (if not himself).
"So why are you depressed?" Old Thompson asked with a concerned look.
Cassio had not told anyone about his constant dream of the foggy sky dotted with boundless and endless buildings, not even Old Thompson. So, he decided to tell him now and maybe the lenient and experienced Librarian would be able to draw something from it.
"I keep feeling I don't belong in this world," Cassio said as he stared into oblivion, as if staring beyond this world.
Old Thompson stared at Cassio, watching his eyes lose their focus. It was obvious he was lost to himself like always. He chuckled after hearing Cassio's words but didn't say anything.
"Funny, huh?" Cassio raised his left eyebrow. "Everyone thinks I'm delusional and need the assylum but that's not the truth. I'm perfectly fine and okay and not some psychopathic and demonic kid they think me to be."
"If you're mad, then I'm madder listening to you," Old Thompson chuckled again. "You're not possessed, Cassio. You're just you."
Cassio sighed and then said, "What if what they're saying is true? What if I'm actually possessed by some demonic spirit?"
"Don't believe what people say about you," Old Thompson said. "Believe what you say about yourself."
Cassio frowned slightly. Sometimes this middle-aged Librarian spoke in a mysterious manner which he could not comprehend and that was why he had this feeling of closeness with him. Birds of the same feathers flocked together! He then said, "Ever since I was ten, I began having this feeling that I don't belong to this world. Maybe I belong to the spiritual world and I'm actually a spirit. Just maybe, I'm a reincarnated person."
"Don't let them hear it or they would send you to the assylum again," Old Thompson said. "They won't listen to your explanations as always and probably you'd up in juvenile detention."
"It's not as if I talk to anyone except you," Cassio said. "I always keep my beliefs and views to myself."
Old Thompson smiled wryly and said, "You're the worst introvert I've ever met in this whole wide world."
Cassio's lips twitched hearing that. He quickly went straight to the point to avoid Old Thompson spouting nonsense, "I've always have this same weird dream. I dunno if it's a nightmare or some sandman is responsible for it. Dreams don't recur!"
Old Thompson could see that Cassio was very confused and guessed that whatever dream he was seeing was not simple. A simple dream wouldn't leave the indifferent Cassio in such a confusion and maybe the dream was the reason he was always lost in his thoughts.
"I always have dreams about this foggy sky, boundless and endless buildings, halls and cabinets which let out azure glows," Cassio said. "This dream seems to emphasize on infinity and boundlessness. The whole thing is so mysterious."
"Maybe you should read the Book Of Mysteries to understand the infinite mysteries," Cassio heard Old Thompson say but waved it aside, treating it with levity. He assumed Old Thompson was joking as no book on Earth would have such infinite mysteries."
"I stand in this foggy sky dotted with boundless and infinite buildings filled with surreality," Cassio said. "I always spend time pondering what they are and the more I ponder, the more they become mysterious."
"The sky is always foggy and dotted with boundless and endless buildings?" Old Thompson asked with a thoughtful expression.
Cassio didn't know what he was thinking and could only reply, "Yes."
"It seems very mysterious indeed," Old Thompson said. "These buildings must be sculptured by a mysterious being beyond boundlessness."
Cassio was surprised and couldn't help but ask, "How do you know?"
Old Thompson laughed and said, "Silly you. Who wouldn't know?"
Cassio resumed his normal stygian expression and said, "Nobody would know."
"That's because they would find it too superstitious," Old Thompson explained. "It'd be seen as pure delusion of a 15-year old Grade Ten kid."
Seeing that he had stopped talking, Cassio continued, "Then I'm always pulled into one of the halls. This hall is always endless and boundless, filled with endless and boundless cabinets which I always feel would contain endless and boundless stuffs—a mysterious instinct."
"Kid, you're really need a book," Old Thompson said. He felt that Cassio had been stressed out lately and couldn't help but say, "You need rest."
Sigh, Cassio sighed inwardly. Even he shares their views about me being delusional.
"I'm not saying it in a negative way, son," Old Thompson said. "You actually need rest so as to free your mind from being burdened by all these dreams and stuffs. Also, you need to read to take your mind off 'em problems."
"I think you're right," Cassio said. He actually needed rest. He had been depressed over the years and if care was not taken, he would actually have a 'real' mental disorder. He then said, "So, what book do you recommend for me?"
"Book Of Mysteries," Old Thompson said. This time he wasn't laughing and was very much serious.
Cassio stared at him for some moments and then asked, "What's the time?"
"Four O'clock," Old Thompson replied. "Rush on home before your dad begins the routine."
"He always does that, late or early so I'm not bothered," Cassio said. Due to the constant maltreatment, he had become immune to stuffs like that. Sighing, he stood up and walked towards the door.
"I'm late Old Thompson," Cassio said as he opened the door. "The next time I come, I'd check out Book Of Mysteries."
Bang!
He shut the door behind him as he left the library. Seeing him leave, Old Thompson sighed and said, "He didn't even ask who the author is."