The Magic of Stories

3 - Luca

Except for the eerie eyes, I can't recall much about my first encounter with the ghost. What I remember is that I was about to scream when Conny called from the front, oblivious to my plight.

"Lynn, are you done?"

At her words, the lamp flickered and bathed the aisle in glaring light. In front of my eyes, the blue-eyed stranger faded away into thin air. With wobbly knees and a light head, I clasped the book against my chest.

"Lynn, I'd like to close shop and catch my bus. You can finish tomorrow morning."

The call shook me awake, and I slipped Don Quixote onto the shelf. "All done, I'm on my way."

Conny already wore her coat, a matching scarf, and gloves, so I picked up my jacket and backpack in a hurry and let her usher me out. I hadn't the slightest wish of remaining alone with a creepy ghost in the library. Or whatever or whoever I had encountered a minute ago.

After work, I met with two friends from uni. It was good to see familiar faces and catch up. They didn't know about my job yet, but I felt reluctant telling them much. We spent a pleasant evening, and when I went to bed, the weird encounter was as good as forgotten. A fading recollection of a fickle of my imagination, I hoped.

The next morning, a pale winter sun sent a tentative ray through the library windows. I had stowed the memory of my strange encounter in the farthest corner of my mind. Marjorie's cheerful greeting helped, and when we started the day with a cup of tea, Conny seemed more accessible too.

During my round of the shelves I had no shocking encounters, and even the offensive lamp in the classic section did its job as if yesterday had only played out in my imagination. When I told Marjorie about its antics, she sighed.

"This one troubles us all the time. I'll call Paco, perhaps he'll find the fault this time."

Paco? Where had I heard the name before? Before I found time to ask, the ladies of the Tuesday knitting circle arrived and installed themselves in the children's area with their colourful handiwork. Marjorie joined them with a book and motioned me over. I exchanged a glance with Conny who pulled a face and retreated to the front desk.

The librarian made me sit down next to her. "May I present Lynn to you, my substitute for the next few weeks? I'm sure she'll read to you while I'm away—won't you, my dear?"

She didn't leave me with much choice since all the ladies smiled at me and declared how wonderful it was to see a fresh face. I looked around for help, but Conny stared at her screen and ignored my silent pleas. Defeated, I put on a smile and leaned back. If I had to take over Marjorie's job, I'd better learn about it as much as I could in the short time I had.

To my surprise, the book she read to her knitting audience was Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Okay, I could do that. It was definitely less challenging than a wild romance full of embarrassing moments and salacious details.

The room was silent except for the clicking of knitting needles as Marjorie worked her magic. With her superb reading talent, she almost painted the story's characters into our presence. For a moment, I thought I could see Dobby, the house-elf, peek around a turquoise sitting cube. My gaze wandered over the knitters, wondering if they had seen him too, when I looked into a pair of bright blue eyes.

I suppressed a gasp. A young man with a piercing gaze leaned against a bookshelf and listened to the story. It didn't shock me I hadn't seen him arrive. No, it was the fact I could see the books on the shelf behind him through his translucent body. He winked, and a corner of his mouth twitched into a lopsided grin. Could he mean me? Well, Marjorie was busy reading, the ladies had their eyes on their knitting, and Conny had left. I ran a hand over my face, but the ghost didn't disappear.