07 – Trystyn

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“Something tells me your sleeping problems will be over tonight,” the Caretaker said.

Helen hung her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh, I do. First, anybody putting in this much hard work is going to have a tough time staying awake. Second, it’s Halloween. This is the night all lost souls and wayward spirits follow the ignis fatuus to the gates of the hereafter.”

“What does that mean?”

“Tonight is death for the dead. Bwahahahaha.”

“That’s not scary,” Chuck said.

The Caretaker raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Do you have a scary story for us?”

“No. They’re all making theirs up. It’s crap.”

Trystyn, a boy from Chuck’s class, raised a hand.

“Actually, I have a story about Chuck.”

Chuck scowled.

“Oh, good,” the Caretaker said. “Tell us about him while we mop the floor.”

Trystyn’s Story

It was one of those afternoons. The rain wasn’t hard enough to make staying outdoors a problem, but it made everything wet enough that parents took their kids home.

Mine told me I could go to the library if I wanted. They run a small café across the street and the children’s books are on the side of the building they face, so a glance through the windows would tell them if I was causing trouble or not.

There was something about the books that day, something dull and lifeless. Each title looked blander than the last and before I knew it, I’d completed a circle of the book stacks without picking a single one.

Grown ups were always reading those huge tomes and they seemed so invested in the stories. I figured hey, they must be good enough to keep adults interested, so I gave them a go.

The first book I saw had no title, just a leather binding and a golden eye on its spine. I plucked it from the shelf and read to the first page.

Trystyn plucked the book from the shelf and read the first page. He blinked in surprise at seeing the very actions he’d performed already described in the book and slammed it shut.

I blinked in surprise at seeing the very actions I’d performed already described in the book and slammed it shut. That was creepy. I opened it again to see what else it would say.

That was creepy, he thought, then opened the book again to see what else it would say.

Wow,” He gasped, and turned the page.

“Wow,” I gasped, and turned the page.

Behind him, the school bully, Chuck, was prowling the stacks in search of a victim.

I glanced behind me. Sure enough, there he was. He caught my movement and grinned. I turned back to the book as he walked around the stacks to get me.

Trystyn was trapped in the stacks. The shelf he’d pulled the book from was a dead end.

“Well, how do I get out?”

“Well, how do I get out?” he wondered aloud. Then the idea came to him. He snuck to the end of the stack and stuck out his foot, just as Chuck rounded the corner.

I snuck to the end of the stack and stuck my foot out just as Chuck rounded the corner.

He fell hard and a shelf worth of book fell on him. I didn’t wait to see if he was alright. I ran.

Chuck was angry now. He didn’t just want to pick on Trystyn for fun any more. Now he wanted to hurt Trystyn bad.

The only safe place Trystyn knew was his parents’ café. He didn’t have time to check out the book, not with Chuck already up and scanning the library for him, so he tucked the book into his schoolbag and left the library through the back doors none of the staff bothered watching.

I did everything that book described and emerged safe in the alley behind the library. I took the book from my bag and found my page.

But Chuck had seen him sneaking out and knew the alleyway was blocked on one side.

To get out, Trystyn would have to leave via its only opening to the street. Chuck ran to the main entrance of the library, around the building and…

He appeared at the end of the alleyway, panting hard with a look of pure hatred on his face.

A metal bar lay at Trystyn’s feet, an iron pipe with a jagged end. Trystyn seized the weapon and held it out in front of him with one hand, the book balanced open on the other.

Chuck laughed. “And what do you think you’ll do with that? You haven’t got the guts”

I read what I had to do and copied the Book’s instructions. I smashed the nearest bottle for effect and made a huge dent in a nearby electric box for emphasis before jabbing the closing Chuck in the ribs with the jagged end.

Chuck cried in pain and backed away. Trystyn isn’t fooling around, he realized. He could really hurt me. So engrossed in the pain, he didn’t notice Trystyn skimming through a book in his other hand and recoiling from what he was learning.

Trystyn would have to kill Chuck. To end Chuck’s bullying, he would have to end his life. As Chuck stood there, unable to think properly before the one person who had stood up to him, Trystyn raised the metal pipe and brought it down on Chuck’s head. His body crumpled to the floor and he lay there, legs twitching as the blood left his body. Trystyn’s face paled. What had he done?

Chuck was so engrossed in the pain he didn’t notice me skimming through the book and recoiling from what I was learning. I’d have to kill Chuck, it said. To end his bullying, I’d have to end his life. As Chuck stood there, unable to think properly before the one person who had stood up to him, I raised the metal pipe. What was I doing?

I brought the pipe down hard on his shin instead. Chuck’s body crumpled to the floor and he lay there, curled up and holding his leg, but still alive and intact. He’d have one hell of a bruise in an hour. I dropped the pipe and knelt beside him.

“Next time I take out your teeth,” I said.

I didn’t actually have any intention of doing that. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for ruining someone’s life for some bad choices they made as a kid, but neither did I want him coming after me for revenge.

I took the book back into the library and flipped open the pages. The pages were blank.

An old librarian plucked it from my fingers.

“This is from the grown-ups section,” she said, “it’s too old for you.”

She skimmed a couple of pages as she left to return it. I heard her mumble a few lines of text.

“Trystyn couldn’t bring himself to do it,” she read, “so the book stopped talking to him. It would only speak again when someone with a darker heart picked it up. The librarian would do for now.”

I didn’t wait to hear if I was mentioned again.