Of Balloons and Unicorns: The Chosen

         In the library, her place of work and her one true love, she was surrounded by books. Some new, true, but her favorite place to be was in the old books. Ancient ones. She was busy repairing the binding on one such book, when out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement. Looking up, there was nothing there. Then another movement, just in front of her. When she turned her head, she saw a shadow pass behind the bookshelf.
         "Hello?" she asked with quavering voice, "The library is closed."
         She next heard what sounded like the chittering of many small voices, coming from all around her. Turning her head towards the sounds, she saw another shadow, and then another, and yet another from just in front of her. The chittering sounded like paper rending, of books being torn now, and when she turned her head, she saw a shadow standing in the walkway.
         It was not really a shadow- shadows adhere themselves to walls and slide flatly around them, avoiding the light. This shadow stood in the center of the path, with substance and form. It was not so much a shadow as it was nearly opaque darkness. And this darkness was staring at her with eyes as black as coal.
         The chittering continued, as more of these shadows appeared. Deep within the sounds came words that terrified the woman, words like 'tear' and 'kill' and 'take' and 'rape'. She stumbled over a small stack of books, but caught herself before she fell. And then the shadows cried out and attacked.
         They bound over the distance between they and she, their movement seeming to tear the air behind them, leaving smoky, wispy trails of darkness. Screaming, she turned and ran, but found that her shoes were slowing her down. The books on the shelves began to tremble, then quake, then fall into the aisle as she struggled to kick her shoes off before the massing horde behind her. They were behind her, but now also to either side as she tried desperitely to get ahead of them.
         She rounded a corner and found herself in a part of the library she wasn't familiar with. Where was the exit? Rounding another corner, she came face to face with one of her pursuers. It lunged at her with arms outstretched, grabbing her by the shirt and tearing at it. She struck it with her arm causing it to fall from her, but her shirt tore away leaving her bra exposed.
         Where it touched, the blackness stuck to her, leaving utter darkness where her skin once was. It was so bitter cold and so intensely dark that she nearly got lost in that first glance. It was like a lover's touch, making the hair stand on her arm- but it was also a vile, wretched touch, making her flesh like a corpse's.
         Holding her arm now, she turned and headed a different direction. As she changed her direction, she saw one of the shelves collapsing off to her left, toppling the next one over in a domino effect, then another and another. Bounding over the toppled shelves came what looked like a thousand shadows, screaming and calling out those vile mantras.
         There! Behind the mass of darkness, a light was shining. That must be the exit! She ran towards the mob of darkness, then veered off when the shelf before her collapsed. Crying openly now, she scurried over the broken shelf, feeling yet another shadow grab her, this time in the leg. She kicked at it, but it held fast, grabbing her other leg in the process. Stumbling, she felt her button and zipper give way, and she quickly slipped out of her jeans. Twice again, she was touched by that utter darkness, and twice again she felt the bitter, icy embrace chill her to the bone. Rolling over, she stood and began to sprint for the light once again.
         For her efforts, she dodged nimbly past the hordes of shadow that seemed to leap into her path, and it wasn't until she was nearly at the door that they overtook her. Like a tidal wave it came, washing her feet out from under her. Just a few feet more and she'd be safe! But it was a struggle for naught, for the darkness began to engulf her legs. Indeed, she could not feel anything below her knees! Rolling, she was grabbed, her arms becoming engulfed in this vile darkness, and she sobbed loudly as the darkness swelled before her, ready to strike.
         "WAKE!" came a voice from beyond the light beyond the door, "WAKE UP!"
         But it was too late. The darkness struck her in the chest, and she felt the cold embrace touch her utter soul. The blackness oozed around her breasts and between her thighs, and she knew that she was lost. Only her head remained out of the oozing darkness, to let her see what was to happen to her. Her body trembled and wracked with sobs as she felt the darkness begin to fill her depths, ravaging her, violating her.
         "WAKE UP ANASTASIA!" the voice cried out again, more insistant. And suddenly she did.

         She was awakened by the sounds of her own sobbing; her face was flushed, and her hands were clammy and shaking. It was The Dream again. Her heart raced, and she clutched at the covers that had wrapped around her like a snake. Loosening herself, she ran to the window and opened it, interrupting the darkness of the room with blinding light. She basked in the heat and light, letting it wash her dream away; it cleansed her, made her forget.
         She was loathe to step away from the window, until she remembered her vulnerable position- she was nude, and a number of college students were busily walking past her window. She shied away from the light, from her exposure, saying to herself, "No man would ever take you." She still clutched at her chest, then sighed slowly and released her arms. Limply, she walked into the bathroom to take a shower. Within twenty minutes, she was dressed and fed, and headed out into the world, her world of books and students. The last she did was wrap her hair tightly into a bun before stepping out the door, a large pile of books in arms.
         She lived just off the campus of the university she called work and home, so the journey was a short one. The antics and goings-on she ignored, or seemed to, as she briskly walked to the library.
         Anastasia was not an ugly woman, by any means. Fair of skin and dark of hair, well-bodied but not athletic; she was apt to wear loose fitting clothes to hide her rather underdeveloped features, although she would argue that comfort was the only reason. She had wire-rimmed glasses that lightly touched her dainty nose, and fairly straight teeth. In all, she reminded one of a spinster- a woman more apt to reading a book than speaking to a friend.
         She bounded up the steps by twos, her face buried in her pile of books. She knew were to step from memory, and moved fearlessly. So when she tripped on a backpack tossed haphazardly on the steps, she was caught quite by surprise. Her fall was less-than-graceful, her books flying everywhere. When the college-aged man offered to help her, she shied away, saying she could do it herself. Never once did she look at the man, even though he was trying hard to be noticed. She had other things on her mind. She didn't want to be late.
         She wouldn't be late, of course. She never was. In fact, the headmaster librarian set the clocks to her arrival. She was 10 minutes early, to the second, every day. Today was no exception.
         "You're late." he joked as she walked through the front door.
         "I tripped coming up the stairs." was her reply, making the headmaster frown inwardly. Had she no sense of humor?
         "Ana, come with me, please." he harumphed, walking to his small office. Her response was blind obedience. The office was very small indeed. A closet, practically. If one were to actually look, it was actually very large, but with the stacks of books and multiple filing boxes, it gave a claustrophobic feel. His desk was also small, covered with torn magazines and repairing supplies. As soon as she was in, he closed the door behind her.
         "Anastasia, I have noticed a rather disturbing pattern in your behavior." He pointed to her timecard. "You have been working 6 nights a week lately. Long hours. Why?"
         Her reply was from the heart, "Because we aren't open on Sunday."
         He shook his head, "No, no! Why do you spend so much time here?"
         She looked at him with baby doe eyes for a second, considering his question. "I like it here. It's quiet. It smells nice. I like to read."
         "But what about your friends? Your family? Don't you ever spend time with them?"
         "I have friends here, sir. Molly, an- and Tim. They are my friends."
         "Co-workers. Don't you have friends outside of work? Family?"
         "I have no family, sir."
         He sat on his desk, frowning. "Anastasia- Ana, people need interaction. Now, you are a good employee, and I know you love your work. But Ana, this can't be a substitute for a life. I've known people who went crazy from staying back in the archives, like you usually do. I don't want to see you hurt."
         "What are you saying, sir?"
         "Your five-year anniversary here is coming up. And you have accumulated more than two month's paid vacation. Ana, I'm ordering you to take that vacation. For your own health."
         Anastasia was shocked. "But- but..."
         "But nothing. Ana, the university cares about you. *I* care about you. I don't want to see you burn out."
         "But I have so much to do! I can't go now!"
         The headmaster nodded. "The end of this week. You have time to finish the projects you are working on. And then you can take a break. You deserve it. You can do what you want."
         "But I want to work!"
         He smiled. "Work on a tan. Go out and enjoy life. But don't worry about it right now. Your work calls, right now."

         Anastasia left the office smiling. Only a person who got right up next to her would notice she was crying. And no one got that close. She scurried past Molly, who ran periodicals, and when the girl said hello, she merely waved. Books in hand, Ana pressed for the back of the library.
         These old shelves housed old books, and here is where Anastasia felt most comfortable in life. She walked to her table, neatly stacked with old tomes, some printed on a hand-set machine, some whose binding was older than the city she lived in. Some, in fact, were much older than the country itself. These were the books she loved most, for they came from a land and a time set apart from hers.
         She sat down and opened one such book, feeling it's ancient pages creak under her hands. Pushing up her glasses, she blew gently on the page, and read semi-aloud.
         It read:

Hast thou e'er been touched by a shadow?
Felt it's icy embrace on thy back?
That bright light off yonder
Will make the shadows behind
         More black.

Is there no escape from a shadow?
Does it follow ye e'en when you sleep?
The more candles ye light
The more outnumbered ye be-
         They creep!

There is but one vex for a shadow-
Just a single solution for thee.
Douce all flame and be still;
For a shadow thyself ye
         Must be!

         Terror coursed through her veins as she read the passage, her fingers gripping the book like a vice. She dared not blink, or return to the images she had pushed aside that morning. Her heart beat in her throat, her eyes watching the characters on the page seem to dance in front of her. They coelesced into an image, at first fuzzy, then crystal clear- a shadow stared at her from the page.
         "Ana?" a voice called, causing her to cry out and look up. Her flight or fight mechanism was working, and she stood, ready to run.
         It was Tim, taken quite aback at her outburst. So taken aback, in fact, that he dropped what he had been carrying. A single flower fell to the floor, with a card in a blue envelope, while a balloon, a beautiful, rosy balloon, wafted toward the ceiling.
         "Ana, are you alright? I came back here to say congra-" he began, then looked at Anastasia. She was watching the balloon carefully. He stopped and admired it with her.
         It was perfectly round, save the tiny stem at the bottom that held the ribbon. It sailed up slowly, gracefully, in an arc that took it right over her head. The center was nearly clear, fading to rose at the edges. When it moved in front of the skylight above, the light shone through it, painting the room in it's warmth. For a second, Anastasia could almost feel it pulling her, her own body rising gracefully to meet it. But only a second.
         "Well, so much for that," Tim said, breaking the moment. "here." He handed her the rose and card. "Congratulations on five years here! Molly and I, we... we thought you might like this."
         She was still watching the balloon, seeing it seem to pause for a while in front of the skylight, then drift higher up and into the rafters above. Only then did she look down, her head snapping to look at what was in her hands. She smiled. "Thank you, Tim. It's beautiful."
         "Read the card."
         She carefully opened the envelope, careful not to tear any of the paper, and looked inside. There was no card, but instead a single airline ticket. It read 'Puerto Rico' and 'First Class', and other such things.
         "We thought that, since you were taking a break for a while, you should take one in style. Molly's uncle works for the airlines, so we got a good deal." When he got no answer from her for a good long while, "Hey, are you alright?"
         She didn't know how to react. "I... thank you. Both of you. I don't know what to say. I've never been in a plane. Never been off the ground, really."
         He laughed. "Then this will be a great learning experience for you. Sorry about the date, we didn't have much time to work with."
         She looked. 'Saturday', it said. "It's all right. Perfect timing, really." She sighed, looking around the dusty old shelves. "I guess it's for the best."
         There was another awkward silence, before Tim said "Well, you're welcome. We hope you enjoy it. Uhmm... I'll see you around, ok?"
         He turned and walked away, leaving her to her book once again. She looked down and saw just another page, detailing the personification of a pagan deity in 12th century France. She shook her head, forgetting all about the poem she had read earlier and the dream from before that. She closed the book, and began to repair the binding.
         Several hours and several books later, the lights came on as the sun waned. Startled by the sudden artificial light, Anastasia stood and yawned.
         Then it hit her. She was just told that she'd be taking a vacation, less than a half-hour before Tim gave her that ticket! And the ticket was dated for the same day she was ordered to begin her vacation! It was a setup! Scowling now, she stood, gathering her newly repaired books. She stomped down the aisle, rounded a corner, and stopped at the base of a ladder poised carefully against a shelf.
         With professional style, she clambered up the ladder, books in both hands. To one who had never seen it before, she looked almost otherworldly in balance and poise. She stopped when she reached the top shelf, and placed one stack on the top of the bookshelf. Using one hand, she placed books from her other arm one-at-a-time back to their destinations. As she reached the end of her reach, she would grab the shelf and slide the ladder down. Only then did she look up.
         That rosy balloon floated at eye-level, just opposite her side of the bookshelf. "Well, hello you." she smiled, looking at her reflection in it's glossy surface. She reached out for it, but it seemed to shy away, "I won't hurt you," she spoke to it, as if it were alive. It drifted lower and out of her sight, "Come back!"
         She began to step down the ladder when she heard a familiar, terrible noise. Paper rending. Whispering. The sound from in her dream, only louder and more insistant. The sound frightened her so much that she nearly fell from the ladder, but managed to hold onto one side as she fell. Too frightened to cry out, she let go and dropped to the ground several feet below.
         As she hit the floor, she saw that rosy balloon drift between the row of shelves, as if it had found an air current. She turned away from it and took a step, when she again heard the sound of paper rending. She bumped into the ladder, and the sound swelled behind her. More than a little scared, she chased the balloon.
         When she rounded the corner, she saw the very tail-end of the string rounding another. Hurriedly, she followed, trying to block out the sounds coming from behind her. The orb floated gently, pressing against and bouncing off of the shelves as it went, and came to rest finally against a book that seemed to stick out more than the others. She approached it, almost touching it, when it seemed to break free and float upwards again. She leaned after it, but only knocked the book from the shelf.
         She knelt down and picked it up, dusting off the spine and top. It wasn't very thick, but very old. The cover seemed made of wood, wrapped in a fine leather that seemed to shine despite it's age. The cover proclaimed, 'Ars Magicka: the Unicorn and Other Tales'.
         She heard the horrible sounds as if right behind her, and turned suddenly. There was nothing there. Hesitantly, she turned back.
         The balloon was just inches from her face, floating steady just above her eye level. She cried out, and her breath blew the balloon away from her. And then she saw her reflection clearly. More importantly, she saw what was behind her reflection.
         Beasts, monsters, demons, whatever you might call them, these bits of darkness were swarming behind her. As her mind registered the sight, her ears could hear them screaming behind her. Above the din, one word became clear- 'DEATH'.
         She screamed openly now, grabbing the balloon by it's ribbon and running, her new book tightly in her other hand. She turned a corner, crying out as she ran, and raced for the front of the library. The sounds were getting closer, and she could almost feel the breath of what chased her. She rounded another corner.
         What happened next happened all at once. She ran into another person, roughly her size, who was running in turn at her, sending them both sprawling. The sounds behind her evaporated into nothingness with a loud POP! and Anastasia, in shock, felt the balloon that cushioned the two women from harm give way under them. In less time than it takes to blink, the large round ball was gone, nothing more than a small rubber carcass that fell to the floor.
         The sequins on Molly's sweater were to blame, but this didn't change the fact that the balloon was gone. Ana fell to her knees, crying openly now. Molly, on her rear, scrambled to get up.
         "Anastasia, what happened? I heard you screaming..."
         Sobbing, she picked up the pieces of the balloon. She was too emotional to speak, so Molly spoke instead.
         "This is just what I was talking about. Ana, it's closing time. You're working too hard, girl! Here, let me help you up." she offered her a hand, which she took. After they were both standing, Molly took Anastasia by the arm and guided her through the library to the front steps. Ana didn't speak, but even if she had something to say, she couldn't. Her mind was numb.
         As Molly pushed open the front door to the library, Anastasia noticed the small bulge in the small of Molly's tummy. Shaking the cobwebs and numbness from her mind, she said, "Oh Molly, I've never been so scared!"
         Molly turned, putting a hand on her tummy, "You spend too much time back there with the old books. You need to come up to the front of the library more. Nobody wants to go back there. Look at you! You're shaking like a dead tree in winter!"
         Ana pressed towards her. "It was so vivid! Molly, I was scared... did I... did I hurt you?" she asked, pointing to her tummy.
         The other smiled gently. "No, we're fine."
         "We?" Anastasia asked, not understanding.
         "Didn't you know? Oh, of course not. You're back there all day, you didn't hear. Tim and I are expecting!"
         "A... a baby?"
         "What kind of question is that?! Of course, a baby! Jeez Ana, sometimes I really do worry about you."
         Without another word, the two left the library. Once Molly was safely in her car, Anastasia turned to walk across campus to her own home. When Molly asked if she could offer a lift, Ana shook her head, saying that she liked the walk. And so Anastasia walked home alone.

         Her dream that night began as the other, with her mending books in the library. She turned a page on the book she was checking for tears when she saw two dark eyes staring back up at her. The shadows! She screamed and threw the book, sending it flying through the air, pages falling out the whole way.
         Where the pages fell, a new, horrible thing came. Arms and legs, appendages of all sorts, began to escape from the torn pages. It was as if this darkness was using the paper as a portal, for they seemed to be crawling out of holes in the ground. Meanwhile, the book itself hit a shelf, falling open to the floor. In a gust of wind, it's pages began to shuffle about, then tear out, and more shadows emerged from within the horrible sound and vision. Anastasia, still behind her desk, had nowhere to run as they swarmed around her. She was too afraid even to scream, backing into the wall-shelf behind her. When the books behind her began to tear open and new arms grabbed at her, she did cry out, a long low wail of despair. This time, they had her for certain!
         Suddenly, a beautiful rosy light shown down upon her, and the darkness cowered back in fear. Looking up, she saw that most beautiful balloon, whole again and much larger than before, floating down in the light. As it lowered, it moved out of the skylight, and it's rosy color faded from her. In a fury, the shadows leaped for her.
         "GRAB HOLD!" came a voice she recognized, but could not recall. She reached out for the ribbon around the balloon, and it wrapped itself around her arm. In a sudden gust she was lifted up, even as the shadows beneath her collided with where she was. Crying out in anger, they piled on top of one another, each one leaping up to grab for her. By now, she was already out the skylight and looking to the sky.
         The night sky above the university was beautiful, the lights twinkling under her. It was only after several minutes of admiring the view that she noticed a card attached to the ribbon. Using her other hand, she opened the card, very careful not to tear the envelope. Inside was a note, small and hand-scrawled. It read, simply, 'Swallow me and I will come.'
         And it was at this moment that the balloon, her savior from above, brushed against one of the stars in the heavens, and burst with so little a fanfare as a small POP! Screaming, Anastasia plummeted to the ground.

         She awoke just an instant before her body would have collided with the earth; the shock of it had her standing immediately. The feeling it left her, falling so fast and then to be suddenly standing on her bed, was that she had never touched the ground at all. Instead of fear, her mind was filled with wonder. And in her hand were small pieces of balloon.
         At first her mind was confused, unsure what was real and what was imagined. In an almost surreal daydream, she reached down and picked a small piece from her hand, and in one quick movement, ate it. When she felt it slide down her throat, she suddenly realized what she had done. Choking, she dropped the remaining balloon bits and put her hands to her throat. She couldn't breathe!
         As suddenly as the panic came to her, soothing calm swept over her. She fell back onto her bed, her body relaxing like a deflated balloon. She exhaled slowly, and felt her body stiffening up again. After a moment, she had regained her senses.
         "What's happening to me?" she tried to say, but with the first 'wh-', she felt something invade her mouth. From her lips came a small bubble, clear and multicolored at the same time. It swelled to the size of a baseball, then began to retract back into her mouth. Her eyes wide, she cried out. In response, the bubble grew again, matching its former size, then quickly doubling it. She reached up to touch the bubble, when it's colors began to swirl near where her hands were about to touch. As she touched it, she felt the colors sliding under her fingertips, warm and exotic to the touch. The bubble was soft and flexible across it's surface, but firm beneath. She tried to close her lips, sealing off the bubble, but found that it held her mouth open. Huffing into it now, it responded by swelling just a bit more, then a lot more. She felt it swell in her fingers, and her hands were pressed further away from each other.
         Each exhale she took made the bubble grow in leaps and bounds, and the initial inhibitions faded away as she continued to stare into the swirling psychodelic sea of it all. Soon, she was pressing her arms into it's soft shape, then her chest, as it continued to grow to gargantuan size and beyond. It was growing much faster than what she was putting into it, and seemed to come alive more with each breath. She now held it with arms outstretched, her chest and tummy pressing tightly against it. She could feel the colors sliding around across it, touching her in ways only she had ever touched, herself. Even still, the balloon seemed to know what it was doing, whereas she had never known such things. The bubble, now standing tall above her, touched her hips with an electricity she could not resist. Her legs lifted up suddenly, caressing the bubble in her thighs. And in that moment, she felt enraptured.
         For at that moment, two things happened. First, her mouth became free as the last of the bubble pushed it's way out from between her lips. She let out a long moan, her head falling back onto her pillow. Her body tingled at the touch of this giant sphere.
         At the same time, on the other side of the bubble, it stretched out, pressing against her other lips. They offered little resistance, and in a moment of rapture, the bubble entered her sex. Deep within her came a long moan, and a shudder, for this was the first time she had been touched in such a way. Her body, unsure what to do, bucked against the bubble and convulsed beneath it. It pressed deeper into her, then deeper still, until she felt as though every part of her being was filled to the brim and beyond. The swirling colors started to coelesce around her lower body, spinning as if draining away.
         And here, she felt something deep within herself give, and was filled even more. Moaning loudly, she pressed against that which held her, and looked through it to where it invaded her. The colors were indeed swirling around that spot, bleeding into her body, filling her deeper. She felt a pressure in her tummy she could not describe.
         She continued to press her hips against the bubble, again and again as it seemed to fill her, and she saw within the bubble her own tummy begin to rise. The bubble began to shrink as her tummy grew, swelling and pressing even tighter against her. As the bubble began to fall away from her head and chest, moving more towards her tummy, her tummy pressed outwards and back at it. Soon she looked like a woman in full maternity, the bubble wrapped around her belly as if a part of it, making the swell seem that much larger. She could feel the movements of the colors swirling around inside of her now, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out again, moaning long and low. Now her chest, once small and below average, began to press outwards as well. Like two water balloons her breasts expanded, heavy and darkening. She could feel them pressing against her chest, her own body and yet not. She wanted to reach up and feel them, but was afraid of what she might find. Was this real?
         And all at once, she felt something else give inside of her, and the bubble outside began to bleed through with a new color. Dark, red, almost opaque. She felt this color rushing out of her, just as her breath chose to rush out of her at the same time. The color seemed to creep along the surface of the balloon, which pulled away from her and swelled rapidly, returning to a near-spherical shape. In a rush of extacy and orgasm, she felt her tummy contracting as the bubble swelled, now a blood-red balloon. She could not stop the rushing from her hips, nay, she even encouraged the sensation, and pushed with all her might. And finally, panting, fullfilled, and spent, she felt the giant sphere pull away from her.
         It rolled off of her bed onto the floor, and then seemed to hold perfectly still for the longest time. It was mostly opaque, with only the shadows of something moving within it. For the briefest of instants, she feared what was inside. It was at that moment that a spike, a single, brilliant lance of light, pierced the balloon from within. Slowly this balloon retired back, leaving a beautiful white unicorn, strong and proud, standing in it's wake. When the balloon fell to the ground, there was nothing left of it. The unicorn, it's mane a shiny silver, it's coat a pearly white, looked at her with sea-green eyes. The silver and gold horn above it's brow seemed to shimmer with it's own light. As she sat up to get a closer look, it bowed low, a trained bow that left her without a word to say.
         "Your majesty," the beautiful creature said, "We have little time to waste."