Mr. Linden's Library

He had warned her about the book. Now it was too late. From it had emerged darkness like no other, and her ignorance had betrayed her, and cut through her heart like sharply bladed knife.

In the beginning, elusive as the shadows were, I saw them. I knew how Domenica was bumbling along, grasping onto me to lift her from the peril of her life. She and I were fiercely dedicated journalists, and she had worked herself to a point where she was starting to feel depressed. I had finally given up hope of relieving her form hte state of depression she had sunken into, when a phone call came. It was my old friend Janmes, now Mr. James B. Linden. I had told James about my troubles, and he was calling to recommend my sister and I go to a resort open to people wanting to recuperate and relax. It was out in California, in a very serence area. I trusted James with things like this; he was a very respected man of high status. Tall and strong, he had wholesome brown eyes, handsome features, and a smile that started at his mouth and spread across his entire face. So, sick with worry and laden with her burdens, I decided to take James' advice -- we both needed a break. As Domenica's sister, I loved her, but could not afford to take care of her constantly -- I had my own life to take care of.

James and I began making arrangements as to when my sister and I could go. When talking to him one day, I thought about the library James had owned. It had consisted of some ten thousand books, and for some reason, James had closed down almost thirteen years ago. Some say he couldn't keep it up alone. Others think he was haunted by his own thoughts, stuck in the library all day. Now he worked at a small corner antiques shop. He had used the money he'd gotten from selling the books to build a house, and now lived a healthy life selling forgotten treasures to interested passersby.

Where the library had once been was now an empty lot. Dirt and weeds had sprung up, which made the plot of earth look quite like and unkept garden. The mysterious thing was that a delicate vine of some sort of plant covered the entire area. Each year it seemed to thicken and thrive more and more. The city council had talked of cleaning out the vine and building a strip-mall, but every time a worker tried to cut the plant, it grew three more leaves to reconect the cut section. Bewildered, the city woker had tried again and again, but all his efforts proved fruitless. After a few years, the plant lay forgotten. Little did James Linden know that when the thirteenth year of his library's closing arrived, a catastrophic doom would befall him.

Domenica and I were now staying at the wonderful resort he had recommended for three weeks to relax and relieve ourselves of the pressures our work pressed on us. She was exhausted, and had slept through most of the past two days. When she awoke, I was on the phone talking to James.

"Thank you so much...no, everything's fine...yes, she's much better...of course, I'll call in a couple days...ok...bye."

I noticed Domenica looked quite rosy and was smiling for the first time in months.

"Wanna take a walk?" she asked enthusiastically. "I feel as though I have just been born again!"

Indeed, she did look as though she had just come into the world, with no knowledge or awareness of her previous grief. A walk sounded nice, so we started to set off. I was just wondering how she could possibly be so joyous when I saw something fall of the the night table. It was a book. As I bent to retrieve it, Domenica let out a cry.

"No!" she yelled. "Don't touch that!"

"What?" I screeched back. "Why? It's just a book!"

She was suddenly very complacent. "Oh, its nothing really...just a book, you're right, of course...I bought it fomr the antique shop James works at...he tried to warn me not to buy it, can you imagine? Really, it's nothing, just, please, GIVE IT TO ME!"

My sister no longer looked rosy. In fact, she looked a bit insane. Her chocolate eyes were wide and livid, and her normally loose, curly hair was stringy and stuck in clumps on her sweaty forehead. I realized the book held great importance for her, although why it did was unclear. I knew within myslef that I must not let her have it. As I backed away from her grueling stare, I saw the book's cover for the fist time. The book itself was wider than it was long, and covered in a deep red leather. The title read,

"Vous Desirez...?"

Intrigued, I starte at the title for a minute. By now, Domenica was ranting and raving. Coming closer and breathing heavily, she looked as though she was about to explode into a though pieces. Thinking quickly, I remembered "vous desirez" translated from French into "you desire." The three dots after the title implied whatever one desired. It was a question -- "Vous desirez...?" The question now was why would my sister want this book so badly?

"Please calm down," I started.

"NO!" she cried.

"Why must you have this book?" I implored.

"It gives me back my life! My joy! My happiness! My desires! Without it I have nothing!"

I suddenly felt a surge of warmth flow through my fingertips and on impluse, I flipped open the book. As soon as I had done so, Domenica let out a blood-curdling scream and fell on the bed, her left arm outstretched. In my shock from hearing her scream I had dropped the book, which, in a million chances to one, had fallen onto her arm. The moment the book touched her skin, it started turning its own pages, as though a rushing wind had swept through the room. The book paused halfway through, and a vine of green, leafy plants identical to the ones in the empty lot where James' library had once stood exactly thirteen years ago was beginning to creep from the spine.

Horrified, I fled the room and took the downstairs steps four at a time. When I reached the lobby, I saw none other than Mr. James Linden. He looked very upset and frazzled.

"Is it too late?" he panted nervously.

"For what?" I asked, frantic.

"I've only just arrived. My house -- someone set fire to my house...I was sleeping and I smelled smoke...when I woke up, I saw my entire bedroom covered in...you're never going to believe this...vines! I ran outside and came here as quickly as I could! Is she alright? I tried to warn her about that book, but she wouldn't listen...is she ok?"

"Domenica is in our room, if that's who you're talking about, but I don't think she's ok. Something's happened. The book you're taking about, does it say 'Vous desirez...' on it?"

"Yes! Please don't tell me its been opened..."

"It has, oh, it has!" I cried.

"Then the worst is yet to come."

"Where did it come from? How did my sister get it??"

"It was the one book of thousands that i kept. I didn't want anyone else to go through what I did. You see, the book is cursed. It will fall into the hands of anyone going through trouble in life, anyone who is depressed or angry. When I found it, I was feeling furious and frustrated because I had just proposed to my girlfriend, only to find out she was done with me. I dad found the book that night when I went to the library to blow off some steam. It was inside a Greek dictionary I had purchased from a friend of mine. I guess he didn't want it either -- some friend he was! Anyway strange things began to happen. At first things got better and better for me: my girlfriend and I got back together, the library was doing wonderfully, and I even won ten thousand dollars from the stock market. Then, just as I was enjoying the luck I was having, some stranger totaled my car while it was parked outside my apartment. Then I lost my wallet with all my credit cards and ID in it. The stocks I was investing in went bankrupt. And then Louisa, my old girlfriend...well, she was killed a car accident. I was indescribably happy, and then heartbroken and miserable. The book brings joy and pleasure, and then terrible fate. One cannot escape. It differs with each person. Some may have weeks of happiness, like me, or other may only have an hour. If someone has read one half of any letter in its pages, they are destined for a cruel and merciless punishment. Death, even. When Domenica came to the antiques store, she said she had just felt like she'd needed to come, although she couldn't explain why. I knew the book had called to her. It was lying on a back shelf and her eyes had found it immediately. I tried to coax her not to buy it...I tried to warn her...but now, it's too late. She refused to listen and purchased the book from another cashier who knew nothing about it."

"That explains why she wanted it so badly," I said. "She screamed when I opened the book, and fell on the bed. I'm afraid...oh no, it can't be!"

We rushed up to the room and slowly opened the door. I saw her lying just as I had left her, the book still open on her arm. The only difference was that her lips were a deathly blue and her skin was ghostly pale. She unusually still, but I cuold see the rise and fall of her breath.

"Domenica?" I croaked.

"It's a coma, a dream-like state...she'll never come out of it...she's gone...I'm so sorry..." James' voice fell flat.

"She's dead? No, it can't be! No!"
Then I fell into his arms, sobbing.

The next few weeks flew by like a blur. James and I burned the book in the fireplace before taking my sister to the hospital. When the doctors told me she could stay on a respirator for a month and then die or be let go immediately without the respirator, my family and I chose to say our good-byes and let her go the next day.

The funeral was beautiful. Blood-red roses, Domenica's favorite, were everywhere. I was absolutely miserable. Tears spilled like a water bucket from my tired eyes. The luncheon afterward seemed to take a decade. At last I went home. I dropped my purse on the table by the door, and then limped over to the couch to lay down. Glancing at the coffee table to pick up the remote, what I saw made my heart nearly jump out of my chest.

It was the book.