“Your papers seem to be in order, Mr. Christoph,” the receptionist said with a sunny smile typical of most receptionists. Paul Christoph watched as she shuffled through his application papers, background papers, legal documents, papers, papers, papers. Still, he thought, it was a relief to find out he was hired.
Paul was a graduate student at UNO, working towards a business degree. And he was in desperate need of income. Up to this point, he had had no steady job, and his money was starting to spread thinly.
So that’s why, when he saw the ‘Help Wanted’ sign in front of the local library, he jumped at the opportunity. He was now an official librarian, at least part time. Not that Paul was a big reader. Frankly, checking books out all day was not appealing to him.
“You’ll start your shift tomorrow,” said the receptionist with another smile. Paul smiled back and left. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.
*******
Paul arrived in the library the next day, already anticipating his first paycheck. That, unfortunately, came with a lot of reading up to do. Literally. Shelving, answering phone calls, referring visitors to good books (What did you call people who came to the library anyway? They certainly weren’t customers), and much more book-handling. Paul didn’t think he ever wanted to read again.
When it was finally closing time, Paul was the first employee out the door. All that paper was stifling him. He did not own a car, so a good buddy of his was coming to pick him up. He had just taken his first breath of fresh air when his cell phone rang. He sighed and raised it to his ear.
“Hey, Paul, I’m sorry. I can’t pick you up today. My kid’s sick—throwing up and all. The wife is at work and she’ll kill me if I leave him alone. Sorry again, bud.” His friend hung up.
Paul looked up at the dark gray sky and sighed miserably. No one else he knew was free. Looked like he was stuck here for a while. Just as he was thinking at least nothing could get worse, it started to rain. Cold and hard. Paul watched the drops pool on his admission key. His admission card key…
At least he could get in out of the rain. He swiped his key and the door clicked open, moaning eerily as it swung. When he entered the building, he saw how dark it was when all the fluorescent lights were turned off. Dark shelves loomed like rows of beasts, the metal bars on the ceiling seemed like huge spider webs, and every now and then, unseen disturbances made muffled sounds.
Paul sat down on a chair. He was so exhausted; he thought he might fall asleep. Or maybe just close his eyes for a while. He blinked. And saw a most extraordinary sight.
*******
It was Harry Potter. Paul could not believe his eyes. Personally, he had never read the books, but had seen enough movies. No doubt about it: the lightning bolt scar, the dark hair, and the round, owlish spectacles. For goodness sakes, he even had a Hogwarts robe on!
“Hello there, what’re you staring at?” Harry said with a distinctive British accent.
“Um, hi—Daniel Radcliffe, isn’t it? I was, um, just wondering what you’re doing in a library in the dark. Is it for some new movie scene or what?”
“What are you talking about?” said Harry incredulously, “Who’s Daniel Ratclip? My name’s Harry. Harry Potter.”
“Well, um, Harry. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave. The library’s not open to the public after hours.” Obviously a lunatic, thought Paul. Some crazed fan that somehow got in.
Harry rolled his eyes, “You don’t believe me? Look, I’ll show you.” Then, muttering under his breath, “Muggles.” He raised a stick, mumbled a few words, and waved it around. A book flew across the room into Paul’s head.
“Sorry, sometimes my aim’s not quite right,” Harry said, not seeming very sorry at all.
Paul felt very dizzy. And not just because of the book.
“So, um, see you around, Harry.” Paul wandered away, stumbling slightly. Harry Potter? Was it really…?
With an umph, Paul bumped into a man half his size.
“Excuse me, sir.” Paul mumbled. Sir? He thought to himself.
“Not at all! Frodo Baggins, at your service!” It said.
Frodo Baggins? That Frodo Baggins—Frodo of the Shire, Frodo the hobbit, Frodo of the Ring? It seemed to be him. He was very, very short, had furry bare feet, and curled hair.
“Um, pleased to meet you Mr. Baggins.” Paul said. It felt proper to exchange pleasantries with a person (person?) like this.
“If you don’t mind me saying,” said Frodo, “You seem rather flustered. Perhaps the Fantasy section is too much for you. Why don’t you try the History section?” As he spoke, a long golden chain dangled from his neck. Attached to it was a perfect, golden ring. It seemed to attract Paul, like a whirlpool sucking in a ship. He could not stop staring at it.
Frodo saw Paul’s expression and quickly tucked the ring out of sight. For a second, Paul considered tackling the hobbit and snatching the ring away, but he blinked and came back to his senses.
“Yes,” Frodo repeated nervously, “Maybe you should visit the History section instead.”
*******
Paul did not know how, but somehow he wandered into the History/Non-Fiction section of the library. When he got near the cluster of bookcases, he jumped.
Someone was sitting on top of a bookcase, balancing as if on a horse. The figure was dressed in full armor, a visor shading his face, and genuine sword hanging at his side. He leapt to the ground lightly and leaned impressively towards Paul. He was a head taller.
“Nice sword, sir,” Paul whistled.
“Sir? My name,” the knight said, “Is Joan of Arc.”
The knight removed the visor, revealing cropped hair, but clearly the face of a woman.
Jeanne d’Arc? The heroine of France? Everyone knew about her.
“Nice to meet you, uh, Madam Arc. I’ll just be leaving now.” Paul backed away slowly. This woman was rather intimidating.
“Wait, good sir! Do not leave! Join in our crusade to save old France from the English barbarians!”
Her shouts faded as Paul ran, darting between aisles. He was starting to become slightly terrified. Was this the library? Did characters from books come alive on a regular basis here? One thing was sure. This had not been included in his job description.
BAM! He tripped over a spiky thing on the ground. A porcupine. In fact, woodland animals were darting all over the library. Deer galloped over desks, bears knocked over bookcases, while mice chewed electric cords. A few beavers were gnawing on books. Animals from nature books or hunting magazines.
“Hey!” Paul shouted, “Get away from that!” Those books couldn’t be chewed to pieces. What would happen to the characters?
“Get away from the library!” Paul swung his arm around, scattering squirrels and birds.
He saw it too late. A rattlesnake lunged at his face. Paul passed out. The last things he saw were the snake’s forked tongue and open mouth.
*******
Beep. Beep. It was so faint, Paul barely heard it. Beep. Was he in heaven? No, this was annoying. Heaven didn’t have any annoying sounds.
He opened his eyes. Twin lights shone into his eyes, blinding him. When his eyesight adjusted, he saw it was a car, headlights shining through the library’s glass doors. And the driver was beeping his horn over and over.
Paul recognized that driver. It was the buddy with a sick kid. Slowly, carefully, Paul got up and walked out the door.
“It’s dark,” Paul mused to his friend in the car.
“Of course it’s dark—it’s ten at night! Man, where have you been?” His friend chuckled, “Oh yeah, in the library, reading the night away!”
Paul wasn’t listening as his friend chattered on about how he eluded the wife and came to look for him. Paul was thinking.
What was that all about anyway? Had Paul been dreaming? It felt so real, but one could not possibly meet Joan of Arc, even less Harry Potter in real life. Could they?
It must have been a dream. When Paul woke up, he had been on the same chair he had started out on. He had almost convinced himself he had been asleep…nothing had happened…it was all unreal, when he felt the bruise on his forehead. That’s right. Harry Potter had hit him on the head with a flying book.
*******
Paul didn’t speak of this incident. He continued to work at the library throughout graduate school, but never stayed past closing time. No one found out about what happened that night at the library. But Paul never thought of a book the same way again.
|
