Page 2 of Wallflower Witch

I hang my head. “Sorry to disappoint,” I mumble.

“Regardless, I can report I have found thou and may finally have peace.” He pulls out an old gold pocket watch, checks the time, then snaps it closed. “Took long enough,” I think I hear him murmur before he fades away.

“Well, that was weird.”

I dig my toes into the sand to ground myself. Where did he come from, and what did he mean about being my uncle? I have been on my own since my parents died in a car accident when I was barely old enough to remember them.

I shake my head and look back toward the ocean, searching for the happy feeling I had before. I stare at the water, watching it slowly lap away at the sand.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

I jerk sharply, then swat at my alarm clock to stop the incessant noise.

Rubbing my eyes, I stretch before throwing the covers off.

What a weird dream. I shuffle into the shower and hope the hot water will help me to wake up.

* * *

Walking into the library, I make my way to the bottom floor. I spend my days in the archives scanning historical text and doing my best to keep all items in their best shape possible. Down here is my little slice of heaven. I get to spend my days learning about the history of our area and helping the random scholar who comes down. But mostly, it is just me and the books. No one to judge me or ask questions I don’t want to answer.

I move to the vault and pull out the journal I’ve been working on. It’s a record of when the town was built, written by one of the town founders. I’ve already scanned the pages, but now I’m working on manually transcribing each page. Sitting at the computer, I open the journal up to the last page I transcribed.

Finding my spot, I begin to type.

I’ the first month, there were arguments about which issues would compose the choices, but they were squashed with haste. A new town doesn’t mean we forget our roots and history. Should thee come from nought, thou does not suddenly get to help compose the decisions for everyone. We will hark what those around us have to say.

Movement in the corner of the room catches my attention. I look up to see a woman standing there. It normally wouldn’t be odd, since we are open to the public, but the bell on the door never chimed.

I drape a ribbon in the journal and close it, leaving it by the computer. Walking toward the woman, I smile and do my best to ignore the odd way she is dressed. Her dress has a high ruffled neckline, long sleeves, and comes down to the tops of her feet, where black boots peek out. She looks out of place in the climate-controlled area filled with glass cases, computers, and all the comforts of the twenty-first century.

“Hi, I’m so sorry I didn’t hear you come in,” I begin. “Is this your first time in the archives?” I pause a few feet away from her. She cocks her head to the side and doesn’t respond. “Can I help you find something?”

Her gaze slides up and down before she nods slightly. Her mouth opens and moves like she’s speaking, but no sounds come out.

“Oh, one second!” I turn and grab a notepad and pen from the desk. “Here, do you want to write it down?” I hold the notepad out, letting go as her hand closes on the other end. It clatters to the floor.

“Oops.” I bend and pick it up. When I straighten up, the woman is gone.

“Hello?” I call out, spinning. Where could she have gone? “Ma’am?” I can’t see her anywhere. I shake my head. “That’s weird. How did she leave that fast? Maybe I’ve been spending too much time alone down here.”

I walk back over to the computer and pick up the journal, placing it back in the vault and locking the door. I leave the archives and head into the library upstairs.

“Hey, Morrigan! How are you today? I didn’t see you come in,” George, the gray-haired, stooped man who covers the library desk during the day, calls out. He is one of my few friends and fills the spot of being my honorary grandfather.

“I came in early,” I admit. “I didn’t sleep well last night.” Shrugging, I lean across the counter from him. “I came up to see if you were able to help that lady who came in earlier.” His eyes crinkle as he thinks. “She was in a long dress and had her hair in a fancy-looking updo. I tried to find out what she needed, but she left when I looked away for a second.”

George scratches his chin. “I don’t think any of the moms who came in this morning were wearing long dresses, but I wasn’t paying too much attention. We’ve only had our group for the Mommy and Me read-aloud come through so far.”

“I don’t think that she was part of the group,” I hedge, then shake my head. “Well, I hope she found whatever she was looking for. Guess I should get back to work. See you for lunch in a few hours?”

“You know it’s the highlight of my day,” he answers cheerfully.

I wave and head back down the stairs. I normally love my time in the archives. It’s quiet and peaceful. I typically only have the random university student coming in to do research, and I like that I can choose to help George in the main library or stay downstairs and read my books.

For the rest of the day, I can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching me, but every time I look around, no one is there.

With a clack of metal on wood, my keys land in a jumble on the side table just inside my front door. As much as I love spending my day in the archives, today frayed my nerves. First with the strange appearance—and disappearance—of the lady in the long dress, then the constant feeling of being watched as I transcribed the journal. The air conditioning unit decided to add to the already shitty day by fritzing out, sending occasional bursts of freezing air to coat the books and me.

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