Lost for Someone's Imagination

For booklovers who hope to escape to the land of fantasies~heartwarming story just for you

Do you love books? I'm Willow, the kind of "bookworm", who hopes to escape real world. If you ever wonder what I look like: ginger hair, skinny, kind of tall, wearing academia outfits. Daydream is the correct word for me. Especially when it is related to "Harry Potter". Yes, I'm a great fan.
Have you ever had traumas in your life? Because I do. It all happened this year. My dear Grandpa passed out exactly on the day of my birthday. Tears that were supposed to be from laughing, carried the deepest sadness. Another was Callan's disappearance. He's my best friend at school, considering that the both of us are into imaginations than reality.
Anyway, those things are not to be told right now. I'm already feeling depression, though I didn't tell anyone. I want to escape to books. I can't breath under-pressure...I'm done with this reality mess.
One day I was walking alone around my house, trying to find a place to read. That's when the adventure begins. I spotted an old house, made of wooden bricks. I stared hard. Hard enough that my eyes were hurting.
The front door was decorated with a wooden plaque saying "Page-Turning Bookstore". I entered the store, with a quiet knock. I smelled vintage book pages, and the most gorgeous library appears in front. Here's a brief description. In case you need to picture it in your head:
There were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves of hard-cover books with the most elegant looks. A wooden "bridge" connects both sides of the library, with wooden carvings of flowers. Stained glass windows decorate the vault roof, coloring the sun light illuminating the dim room. The smell, the smell was what attracted me the most. It smelled like pine-tree forest covered in snow in December; Like the muddy grassland after the rain in April; Like roasted chestnuts on a cloudy October day.
"Good morning young lady. Can I help you?" A middle-aged man's deep voice suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Sorry, I'm not trying to be rude, but I am able to know who the person is by listening to their voice. I turned, and indeed, a tall, middle-aged man with a black suit and gray curly hair stands by the staircase.
I said I came here by accident. I was wearing a navy-blue academia style top and skirt. Since I love this clothing type, though it was a chill Saturday afternoon. I tried to catch any surprising expression from his face while looking at me. But he was suddenly lost in a thought, with a suspicious smile that I felt questionable for this kind-looking gentleman. Before I could continue my "book-hunting" activity, he "whispered" to me loudly ('cause, you know, I have good ears), "Have you ever wanted to...live in a fictional life?"
I know this may sound weird, or even offensive, for most people. But not exactly me at the moment. I wanted, so badly, to. To escape all the conflicts and troubles I have in this real life. I wanted to tell this man all the trauma and sadness that's filling up my life, the loss of two of my dearest companions. But I simply managed a "Yes".
He made this whole speech about a machine he invented that could allow people to travel to books, offering me a free chance. He emphasized the safety of the machine for a million times (as if I would care if it was safe at that moment, after all that had happened), that my ears were starting to ache. I accepted the challenge (adventure, I mean...), without considering too much. But I asked for a request: I wanted him to deliver a note to my mom, saying that I would be back for dinner, don't worry. And then, I sat on a chair, while he has to hypnotize me (it will be alright, because something tells me I could trust him).
When I first opened my eyes, I thought I was watching a movie. Except that the movie was 3D and surrounding me. The characters from the "live movie" were starting to notice me, I don't know how. My vision was blurred, and I can only hear them whispering to each other, as if I'm an alien. One of them was brave enough to come and ask me the weirdest question I've ever heard, "Which book do you come from?". I ignored the girl, who's wearing a red hood.
Wait...She was wearing a crimson-red little hood, beige colored summer dress, and holding a branch-made basket, covered by a plaid pattern. Her expression is somehow...creepy, because that girl does not remind me of the typical "Little-Red-Hood". She does not seem innocent for a child, but indeed, like a school popular girl who's vain and gossips around.
         I was very confused. Because even without looking at her, I knew that that girl cannot be anyone else. I touched around, hoping to find a huge screen. But no, all I found was air, and accidentally, someone's face. I felt amazed , there I was, in the middle of the world of stories. But I'm still very cautious, because I don't feel it was as safe as the man had told me...
I took a few more steps forward, then stopped, confused. What exactly just happened? Then I understood, somehow, I appeared in this fantasy world. It’s not only Little-Red-Riding-Hood that I’m seeing now, but a whole group of the best characters in all the books I’ve read: Luna, Belle, Anne Shirley, all those bookworms obsessed with “turning-pages.” They were holding on to books, but shockingly, all three books were tightly clutched upside down, as if it was some kind of ritual. I suspected if they were only pretending to be engaged in reading for a second, then ignored it.
Ms. Red Hood apparently seemed to be the leader of the group. She guided me to a huge lunchroom, which resembled me of the Great Hall in “Harry Potter.” There, she placed a sorting hat on my head. “It’s to see which house would keep you for now. Every character in this world is divided according to the Hogwarts system.” Whoa, all right, I feel like this world is actually designed for me.
I didn’t even had time to feel the hat moving. It jumped off my head the moment it touched a strand of my hair. It screamed “Ahhhhhhhhh, another one!” I wondered what he meant, but they just put me in Ravenclaw. They hurried a blue uniform for me, which didn’t really fit my ginger hair.
Every night I couldn’t sleep, because of two reasons. First, I question if I’ll ever have the chance to go back. As much as I hate reality, I missed my family. The other thing disturbing me is an everlasting cry from a room outside the cabins every night starting right at eleven p.m. I asked some other new friends, but they simply said I was perhaps just hallucinating.
One time, the maximum limit of my patience was tested because the sobbing was avoiding me resting. I crept out of bed, pass the other beds. Part of me hoped I could find Callan. I mean, this is what typical fairy stories would be – she finds the person she’s been searching for months, and happily ever after.
The problem is, though I was inside a realm where stories happened, I’m not part of any fairy tale. Carefully opening the door, twisting the doorknob one millimeter at a time. I was extremely scared that the true adventure had just started…The cry suddenly stopped, and an invisible hand in the murk pulled me inside. I wanted to shriek, but the hand pressed on me so painfully that I almost blacked out.
It was…as far as I recognized, Moaning Myrtle.
“What are you doing here!?,” she seemed to be irritated at me for no reason.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb you. I was just…curious,” I tried to make my voice sound brave and determined.
“You don’t know how dangerous is the situation you are here. You have to flee, but find your friend first.”
“Wait…What? What do you mean? You just tell me to flee out of nowhere. Tell me why and how?”
“I have to leave after…five minutes. Same for you. So, I can only help you this–take this map with you, it will guide you.”
“But we still have five minutes, I’m very confused. I don’t get it. I…” My brain was buzzing from my brainstorm, and I still couldn't figure out what she was up to.
“Alright, I will explain. Have you noticed something unnatural about the characters you met?”
Obviously, I did. I confessed to her about all the observations I’ve been making these days. The characters did not act the way they were supposed to. Hermione watching YouTube shorts on her phone hidden behind a book. Anne Shirly spending her day gossiping around? Percy Jackson posting selfies of himself pretending to be like a hero, but never going on a true quest? They only looked like the character, but nothing like their personality. I finally had someone to explain my discoveries.
“Exactly, they are an illusion of yours. I’m taking a risk talking to you, because someone could be spying on us at any moment. I only ask you to do one thing: follow the map to find your friend, then quit this meaningless game, and never come back,” her eyes were oceans when saying this.
This is the first time I felt warmth after the traumas, though she was still just a stranger for me. I can tell she was trying to rescue me from some hidden dark secrets, probably endangering herself. Why would she be doing this to me? It’s not something Myrtle would do…Then I realized, these were all people stuck in a character’s body. They were trapped to this world, changing their looks, abilities, but still the same personality. It’s very confusing, and you can only fully comprehend it when you actually experience it yourself.
I took the map, examined it, and gasped. It was the Marauder’s map (from Harry Potter), and I could clearly see where each character was. Most of them were in their cabins, but I found one blurred name, who was alone in the storage room. I suspected him for Callan, realizing that maybe, this is another chance to see him. I took a deep breath, calming myself down. I usually don’t cry, especially when I am not in front of others. I always keep those tears to myself, pretending to be the bravest girl in the whole world. The only two people who’ve seen me cry was my Grandfather and mom, not even Callan. I’m determined that if I could find him this time, I would not care what others would think, and let all my feelings just flow out naturally. I haven’t had time to think about all this before.
I returned to my room, changing to my school uniform, in case…that Callan does not recognize me. Then, I tip-toed downstairs, following the map. Not daring to look up, I kept staring at the map, until I found myself in front of the spookiest door ever.
Spider webs hang from the ceiling, with real spiders dangling and swinging. I’m not someone scared of bugs, but the chilliness made my blood run cold, a fear rising deep in my heart. It was dark, but not completely, just dim. Inside, a big wooden box caught my eye. I gasped…How? The map says Callan is right here, he cannot possibly be…….no…….dead in this……coffin-like-box?
Okay…maybe he is right there, but not dead, perhaps. I closed my fingers around the lid, persuading myself to not be horrified for what would happen next…I thought of the worst possibilities…a dead body, smashed to pieces, or even worse, a resurrecting body. Breath in, breath out. The lid was heavy indeed, but the thought of saving Callan made me forget all the discomfort and sweat I had. Three, two, one…Forçaaaaaaaaaaaa.
Ahhhhhhhhh, was my reaction. Callan lay silently inside a ripped piece of cloth, face paled. I placed my fingers to see if he still had a breath, fortunately, he was just temporarily paralyzed. I had no idea what to do, so I slammed hard on his face, hard enough that made him curse, even though he never did that before (at least in front of my face).
“Are you all right Callan? Can you hear me? It’s Willow here. Don’t worry, I’ll get both of us out of here. How did you get here? What happened? Did someone hurt you? (…)”I had so many questions to ask him. I was worried.
“Wil-low?” he asked weakly, “I’m fine, just a little dizzy. But I should be the one asking why are you here?”
We exchanged some questions, but time was little, so we had to examine the map together. The next part wasn’t extremely exciting, so I’ll summarize: we found the exit guarded by the three-headed-dog (Fluffy), and we simply hummed in chorus the Harry Potter theme (apparently, the code for the door), and he went back to sleep with a snooze.
Dear readers, it’s hard to explain what happened after. We both woke up in the attic room of the Page-Turning bookstore, lying on the floor covered in dust. The room wasn’t locked, but a box placed on the desk made us stay there for a little longer. The words “Don’t open” were written bold in a bright red tone, like the color of blood. Creepy, but not as creepy as the coffin room. Just like all protagonists in books would do, I opened the “Pandora Box” out of curiosity, though I know I’m not usually a risk-taker. The whole journey into another world somehow shaped me differently – I’m willing to take any risk to figure out what actually happened or the reasons why it happened in the other realm. Instead of a bunch of evil creatures and spirits, a nicely folded letter popped up in the bottom of the wooden box. It reads:
“From: Mr. Philip Gordon”
“To: Mr. Theodore Charnock”
Willow swallowed hard. Theodore Charnock…That was her Grandfather, did…is it possible that this old man, some Philip Gordon’s letter, caused Grandpa’s heart attack? A sudden infuriation rose in me, could this middle-aged-man have tried to harm both me and my dear gran? But why…….?
Callan also noticed the surname Charnock, while he pressed his lips together, hard. “May I, Miss Young Charnock, open this letter?” he asked in a half playful half serious tone. I nodded, though hesitant in knowing more about grandpa – his death was already quite enough to shatter me.
He studied the letter, reading important parts to me. He knows me, I do not dare read the letter by myself.
“ ‘And I’ve been thinking of a plan that will benefit the both of us, dear friend. I’m only telling you this because we’ve known each other for so long, that I trust you with all my life: I’ve been researching and analyzing the art of hypnotizing for decades, and this time I finally made a discovery – if I make someone’s mind travel into the world of fantasies and stories, a map will appear in that imaginary world. It is just like the Marauder’s map, where you can spy on whoever you wish to, and the map will indicate their location and movements. But the journey might be dangerous, and we will have to trap someone in to get it, if necessary,’ ” Callan recited one paragraph. But this only paragraph made everything clear…now we know that this Mr. Gordon had tricked both of us into this fictional realm, where he demanded us to grab the map and bring it to him. I told Callan my thoughts, and now the only thing we had to do was to keep the map safe.
“Are you ready to sneak out without the old man noticing us?” Callan whispered.
“I guess so,” I answered pretending carelessly. But I couldn’t worry more…
“There you go, you two little brats!” a familiar voice shot from behind, accompanied by a hot towel wrapped around me face, same for Callan. I almost blacked out again when I remembered the trick my grandpa once taught me: stepping on the “kidnapper” and lift his leg, making him fall over.
And it actually……did not work. Mr. Something Gordon was too heavy (hmm, fat), so I desisted on the idea.
But I remembered my fatal skill……
I tickled him, right under his armpit.
I guess that move was not expected by anyone in that room.
But anyway, this old man was pretty ticklish, so he cracked up so hard that I could see a tear running out his squeezed old eyes full of wrinkles. Callan stood mouth-opened by my side, but I got his attention back with a few simple blinks, then he understood my morse-coded message: T-I-E.
I pulled the man’s feet high up in the air, so he would lose his balance, while Callan found some dirty hemp ropes and a chair. I used up all my strength dealing with this tall man in front of us, giving him some random kicks to make sure he does not get to his feet again and attack us instead. To be honest, I kind of feel bad for this dude, but it’s called–protecting yourself, so whatsoever.
Both of us were tired, so we just went out of the store, called the police, and left. Surprisingly, I discovered that we were only away for less than an hour, a perfect time to go back home and have lunch without my mom questioning all the stuff. Of course I’ll tell her about this, but not at this moment, later. After I talked to the officer about whatever had happened, he clearly did not really believe in my words. But anyways, Mr. Gordon got arrested for kidnapping us, and for “trying to use some dark magic nonsense mental illness,” according to the report. Neither of us really wanted to explain the whole experience over and over again, but we were pretty satisfied to know that he no longer has the chance to trick other people.
On the very next day, at school, I asked Callan to come to the quiet zone inside the library. I wanted to see if the map still works. But to my bewilderment, it turned into a blank piece of parchment paper. Unfolding it, an elegant handwriting spread across the page: “Imagination should be used, not to escape reality, but to create it.”
Callan looked at me puzzled, while my heart sank, a warm feeling covering my whole body – someone gets me, and helped me through this hard time silently, even though she was just a made-up character in a made-up book. Books are not written to get away with problems, but to encourage, inspire, and support us when we are alone. I should face the challenges, and confront them, because I believe in myself, and I know that someone is always caring about me. To be honest, I want to thank Mr. Gordon, and especially Moaning Myrtle, who taught me the lesson that no one else could.


“Imagination should be used, not to escape reality, but to create it.”
-Colin Wilson, English novelist and writer


P.S.: Finished on November 19th, 2024, 7th grade English class