Bookbound: Chapter 1
What it’s about:
Thirteen-year-old Shelley has been adopted, but it seems too good to be true. In Chapter 1 of Bookbound, we find out, was getting adopted the best thing to happen to her?
You can read the story in its entirety below, or you can download a copy.
It was hot in the classroom that day, and the teacher allowed them to open the windows. But with temperatures soaring and only the occasional breeze to cool them off, the girls were getting restless in their seats. Papers rustled, and girls shifted from side to side, too miserable to concentrate.
At the front of the room, the teacher, a slender woman with a stern face, did her best to stay awake for the lesson. They were studying the French Revolution, each girl taking turns to read aloud from an old book barely held together by its binding. The pig-tailed girl who had been reading at the front of the room finished her section. Putting a bookmark down to mark the spot, she snapped the book shut. A smug grin lifted the corner of her mouth. Since she had her back turned to the teacher, she took her chance to stick her tongue out at Shelley while passing her desk.
Shelley ducked her head and pretended not to see her. With the teacher watching her it just wasn’t worth the risk. That the girl already looks like a pig without her nose scrunched like that, Shelley thought to herself.
Shelley moved silently to the front of the room. She hadlearned early that the more she could stay invisible, the less likely someone was to torment her. Most of the girls at the school disliked her, but as long as Shelley didn’t call attention to herself, they wouldn’t bully her.
She picked up the book and opened it to its place, breathing deeply to slow her speeding pulse. It took a moment more to remind herself that it would be over soon, and she could go back to not being noticed. Five minutes, she thought to herself. Five minutes is all I need to get through without anything weird happening, and then I can hide again.
Strange things had happened to Shelley all her life. Left at the school as an orphan at a very young age, she had been too young to remember her parents as anything more than shadows walking in the background of her mind. Her teachers told her she had been brought to the school by two mysterious persons in hooded cloaks in the dead of night. The hooded figures didn’t say a word. They just brought her in, along with a pouch of money, and cried as they left. It was the strangest experience anyone at the school had ever had. Many of the teachers still talked about it, whispering when they thought the students weren’t listening. But the students heard, and Shelley had become the center of a never-ending ghost story. The girls of the school kept their distance, whispering her story to new girls as Shelley passed in the hallway.
Shelley was bothered by the whispers. Who were these people? Where they her parents? Why did they leave her? Where did they go? Where did they come from? But there were no answers to her questions, only tales that the other girls loudly whispered to each other under the covers at night. Shelley had heard them all. Some were funny, some sad, and some even scary. The girls who were not afraid of Shelley picked on her in the hallways, calling her names and shoving her around.
So Shelley quietly shuffled through each day as invisible as possible. She remained quiet in class, in hopes that as long as she did not draw attention to herself, she would be considered too dull to pick on.
At the front of the room, she took a moment to breathe in and out before beginning to read.
The first few sentences went smoothly enough. Her voice was strong and confident. She smiled on the inside, proud for not drawing attention to herself for any of the wrong reasons. But then, while looking at the text, she noticed words on the page starting to wiggle. She could feel herself getting dizzy and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. When she opened them, the words on the page where still again. But the girls in the room had noticed her pause, and they perked up to watch. Shelley fidgeted with the book before taking another breath and starting again.
Suddenly, in the middle of a sentence about a queen and some cake, the words began moving again. But this time they moved faster, swirling across the page, as the rest of the room began to spin. In the haze of the dizziness, Shelley could see her hands on the edge of the book, and with all her force, she slammed the book closed and backed away from the podium.
She glanced frantically around the room as she stumbled against chalkboard behind her. She looked to see if anyone had noticed what had just happened, but she was met with curious stares from the girls in the room; the boldest had begun to snicker under their breaths.
Shelley looked at the teacher, sitting ramrod straight in her chair, eyes squinted in a glare. There were tears starting to sting the backs of Shelley’s eyes. She blinked them away furiously before she turned and ran from the room.
She could hear her teacher shout after her as the rest of the girls burst into laughter. But she only moved faster, until all the noise faded, and she was safely tucked away in her hiding spot.
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Shelley took a deep breath and shook the bad memory from her mind. She hoped life at the school and orphanage was going to be behind her. That very morning, she had left the school to live with Mr. Linden, her new guardian. His large home sat on the edge of meadow, looking just like a home Shelley had imagined in the fairytales she’d heard the other girls tell. It was large with round turrets on each corner, and bright green ivy vines crawling up the walls. This new place left Shelley wondering if this new life would work out, or if it was all too good to be true.
Shelley had enjoyed Mr. Linden’s craggy old face and white hair since she’d first met him. She loved that his teeth were perfectly straight and white, and although his wrinkles deepened when he smiled, his toothy smile made him look years younger. He had been kind to her since their first meeting at the school. He made the effort to talk to her, find out her likes and dislikes, and she genuinely liked him for that. However, she was weary of the adoption. He must have heard all the stories about her from the teachers. Why would this kind old man want to take on such a strange girl like her? That question weighed on her mind from the moment she had arrived.
Mr. Linden had taken Shelley on a tour of the house as soon as she’d walked through the thick front door. He showed her every nook and cranny of the house, including the twists, and turns, and all the hidden spaces. But Shelley noticed that he left out a very obvious door on the main floor. They had paused there on the tour. Mr. Linden placed his hand on the handle, hesitated, then shook his head. “Another time, but not today,” he said quietly before patting the handle and walking on. Shelley stood at the door a moment longer. It was beautiful. She reached out to touched the light curls and vines carved into the heavy door. With her hand still tracing the wood, she made a promise to herself to come back to that door later that evening, when no one would be looking.
Finally, after fidgeting through dinner, she got her chance.
“You must be tired, Shelley. Why don’t you go on up to your room and rest for the evening. I can send someone up later to check in if you’d like.”
Shelley’s mind raced. “Oh no! That’s ok. I’m… tired. I think I’ll just go to bed now.” She slid from her chair and paused. She wasn’t sure what to do next. Should she hug him? What was the right move when saying goodnight to someone who’d taken her in, but was still a stranger to her? Her hands fidgeted for a moment before she stuck out a hand. Mr. Linden, who had stood up with her, smiled before putting her hand between his two hands.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Shelley. You don’t know how much this means to me,” he said before releasing her.
Shelley made an awkward curtsy as she backed out of the room.
In the hallways, Shelley moved just out of site behind the large doors and waited quietly, watching Mr. Linden through a crack between the door and the wall. Once she was confident he would stay tucked behind his newspaper for a while longer, she crept away down the hall.
Standing in front of the large mystery doors, Shelley retraced the intricate wood carvings she’d felt earlier that day. Slowly, pushed to the brass handle she’d seen Mr. Linden holding. It gave no resistance, opening the door to the vast room that lay beyond.
Shelley had seen a library before but had always avoided it. She couldn’t explain why, but seeing that small space at the school always made her sad. The small, cramped room at the orphanage with a few cast-off textbooks was no comparison to what she was standing in. The room was larger than any Shelley had been in in her life- two stories high, every wall stacked with shelves, and every inch of shelves covered with books. Even the doors had books on them, making them blend in with the walls. Shelley walked in, her mouth open and her eyes opened wide. It was as if she had been transported to a new world. Something shifted inside of her, like a piece to a puzzle that had been missing her whole life had found its home. She rushed to a bookshelf and moved her fingers along the spines of the books in front of her. Small and large, old and new, simple and intricate, the shelf contained it all. She breathed in the smell of the room. Paper mixed with dust and leather, and a slight hint of smoke from the wood fireplace on the far wall. A walkway hovered above her around the edges of the room, with a spiral staircase tucked beside the fireplace for access.
She walked a lap around the room, running her fingers along the spines of the books as she went. She moved from the perimeter to the books sitting in piles on the desk. These books all looked older. The one on top caught her eye. The gold lettering and decoration filled the cover from corner to corner. With her first glance, she noticed the vines crawling across the letters. A second look revealed tiny fairies among the vines. Shelley ran her fingers along the letters of the book. The Sleeping Beauty and Other Fairytales.
Shelley picked up the book, but before she could open it, she thought she could hear someone walking down the hall. She slipped the book beneath her sweater and rushed to the wall beside the door, pressing her back hard into the shelves. She listened as she heard footsteps get closer, pause, and walk away. She let out the breath she’d been holding before peaking out of the room.
With no sign of movement in the hallway, Shelley took her chance and rushed across the hall towards the stairs, forgetting to close the door behind her.
Back in her bedroom, sitting on her bed, Shelley looked down at the book she had pulled from her sweater. She could feel her heart flutter and her hands shaking as she opened the book to its first page.
She had only finished the first sentence when suddenly, she felt like she was being sucked into a hole. It was as if her head was attached to a plunger, sucking her into a bottomless abyss. Everything in the room began to spin around her in a blur, turning into grey streaks across her vision. Her head ached with a dizzying pain, and her stomach felt like it was doing somersaults inside her. The soft blankets that she had been sitting on were like a vice tightening around her torso, preventing her from breathing. But while everything around her moved and transformed, she managed to look down at her hands, only to see the book she had just opened sitting peacefully in her lap
After what felt like minutes, but must have only been a few seconds, things slowly began to retake shape. Only Shelley found she was sitting in an entirely new place that was most certainly not her new bedroom. The soft green paint of the walls had become hard stone, and the white door had become old and wooden with iron hinges and an intricate iron lock. The only thing that remained the same was that she was still on a bed, although this one was different-- much older, and it felt as if something twiggy might be poking her behind.
As she took in the new room, she saw an old woman pacing the floor while a couple, regal looking with crowns on their head, stood by an arched window and looked down into a baby’s crib. The old woman crossed the stone floor to the parents. “I wish there was something I could do.” She turned and paced, wringing her hands for a moment before turning back to look at them. “Just give me time. I'll think of something. After all, I’m a fairy. ”
The king looked up from the crib where a baby was whimpering. “How...?” his voice trailed off.
Shelley sat up straighter in bed. “Excuse me!” she called out. “What’s going on here?” The three adults ignored her, continuing to look down at the baby. Shelley threw back the covers and slid out of bed. The feeling of her bare feet hitting the stone floor shocked her, but she approached the crib. Still, no one acknowledged her presence. The baby looked up at Shelley and giggled, but the King, Queen, and fairy remained locked in conversation. Shelley moved around them, waved her arms in front of their faces; but not a single one of them looked her way.
Mid-wave, the door was flung open to reveal a beautiful witch in a flowing dress covered with shimmering gold swirls. Her midnight black hair was pulled back tightly from her pale scowling face and held in a high, crown-like band. Her thin, pursed lips were a dark crimson while her eyes were a cruel and icy blue. She walked into the room as though her bones were made of steel, and her joints of concrete, holding her together rigidly and proud. The king moved forward to protect the baby from the sinister witch, but with a flick of her wrist, he was magically thrown aside.
“Who do you think you are?” the witch bellowed. She paused, took a deep breath, and then, at almost a whisper, she continued. “Who do you think you are? Thinking you can have a celebration without me? You think you can shame me that easily? You think you can turn your back on a fairy and expect no punishment?” Cruel laughter burst from her lips. “But I can still celebrate." She stopped and pointed a cold bony finger towards the infant. "On her sixteenth birthday, I will celebrate. And you,” her finger swerved towards the huddled family, “You're helpless now, aren’t you?”
The queen grabbed the child and held her close to her chest. “How dare you! She is innocent! Reverse your evil curse at once!” she ordered.
A high-pitched, cruel laugh escaped the evil witch’s throat. “Innocent. Innocent? NO child is innocent. They are all raised like their parents! And then who is innocent? I AM INNOCENT!”
The king stepped in front of his family. His voice was cold and unwavering. “Leave. Now. You're not wanted here.”
The witch’s shriek was ear-piercing. She threw her hands above her head as lightning bolts struck the father in the chest, throwing him across the room while the mother let out a terrified scream and turned to protect her baby. The old fairy rushed forward to face the witch. She raised her hands, blue sparks flying, hitting the witch in the chest. The evil witch stepped backward, but it wasn’t enough to stop her.
Shelley, who had been frozen in fear at the sight of the witch, dove back to the bed, pulling the covers over her head as a shield. But upon a moment's reflection, she suddenly felt very silly. The sheets did nothing to protect her, and from under them, Shelley could not see anything that was going on. She lowered the covers to just below her eyes to watch the action.
“Enough!” the old fairy yelled, “Leave this instant!”
“Not without the child.” The witch came nose to nose with the fairy.
“Leave,” whispered the old fairy ominously. They stared at each other, neither blinking or breathing.
At last, the evil witch turned to leave. As she got to the door, she stopped and looked back at the mother and baby. “Just remember this. On her sixteenth birthday, she will prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and die!” She turned, and with a flick of her hand she was gone.
The good fairy let out a deep breath. She approached the mother and child with a sad look in her eye. “My dears, I’m so sorry. So sorry….” Her voice trailed off. “I cannot save her from the spinning wheel. But there's something I can do." She laid a hand on the baby's head. "Instead of death, I can grant you sleep. Sleep for a hundred years.”
The king groaned from his spot on the floor. Shelley rushed to try to help him, but he was on his feet before she reached him. “Are you okay?” Shelley asked, trying to get his attention. But again, she went unnoticed.
The good fairy walked the mother to a rocking chair in the corner of the room, gently helping her sit down and wiping the tears streaming down her face. The father walked to the window; his face shadowed with anger.
Shelley looked on; she had given up on trying to get their attention. The angry king turned swiftly on his heel and left the room.
Shelley returned to the bed, where her book was left open. Picking it up, she turned the page. In front of her, the people moved in fast forward. She watched, and with every page she turned, she saw the little girl growing up. Then Shelley saw a great fire as every spinning wheel in the country was burned. She saw the evil witch sneak back into the room, bringing with her a spinning wheel, which she placed in the corner. Then, as the pages turned, Shelley watched the ominous woman with sharp features and flawless skin change into an old hag. Her hair grayed, her skin wrinkled and sprouted with moles. She became hunched and small, and her hands gnarled until they were so bent that they were almost useless. She threw a cape over her shoulder, sat at the wheel, and began to spin.
Shelley moved closer to the spinning wheel, but the witch never stirred or even noticed her. Shelley put her hand on the wheel. She could feel it moving beneath her palm, but it never slowed from her touch.
A creaking noise announced the opening of the door. The beautiful princess, now a young lady, walked in. She had grown up in those turning pages of the book. Her hair was now a long golden stream falling over her shoulder, and she stood a little taller than Shelley. She was wearing a deep blue dress, cut for a princess, that flowed to the floor.
“Hello, dear,” the evil old woman whispered, welcoming her into the room.
“Who are you?” the princess asked.
“I'm no one of importance,” she cooed. “Come, my sweet. Sit with me. I need some help.”
The princess walked suspiciously toward the wheel. “What's this?” She put her hand on the wheel.
“Sit, sit.” The old witch stood up and offered the princess her chair. “I’ll show you how it works.”
Shelley watched as the princess sat at the wheel, feeling the thread and watching it as it flowed onto the spool. She reached a curious hand towards the spindle sticking up from the stand.
Shelley started toward the princess, yelling, “No! Don’t touch--” But she was too late. The princess had pricked her finger.
The princess fell to the floor. The old hag laughed gleefully as she turned back into the beautiful witch. “Now it's done!” she exclaimed. “Revenge is mine!” She rushed out of the room and disappeared down the hall. Shelley moved to the princess’s side and bent to check her pulse. It was faint, and her breathing was shallow, but she was alive.
Before Shelley could relax, everything around her started to wilt and freeze. The entire world, it seemed, was drifting off to sleep. The flowers on the windowsill closed and curled into themselves. Out the window, Shelley could see glimpses of people lying in the courtyard. The fires in the fireplaces died, and the water fountains stopped running.
Shelley felt herself growing tired. Her arms and legs grew heavy, and her eyelids drooped. Through sheer willpower, she made it to the bed. It took the last of her energy to put the book back on her lap. She thought the weight of it crush her. She lay back on the bed, finally giving in to the need to sleep. The pages of the open book became blurry through her eyelashes and disappeared behind her eyelids.
Shelley lay curled on her bed, as sound asleep as everything else in the world around her, and was unaware of the vines that started to creep out from the pages of the book. They slithered over the walls and windows, and curled around the furniture, squeezing tightly and shutting out all light and life. The vines grew more threatening as they took over the room, engulfing everything in their path. Eventually, they made their way back towards the book and started winding their way around the bed where Shelley slept. They twisted slowly around the legs of the bed and crawled upward. Inch by inch, they crept closer to Shelley's sleeping form.
They wrapped themselves around her legs and worked their way up her body. Soon, they were pulling tight around her waist and crawling up her neck, twisting tighter and tighter as they climbed.
Shelley woke with a strangled noise, realizing that she couldn’t breathe. The vines had cinched around her neck and would not loosen. She reached up and pulled, but they would not budge. It seemed like the more she pulled against the vines, the tighter they wound themselves. She attempted a scream, but no sound came out. Her lungs were empty. She tried breathing in, but it was impossible. She struggled, but nothing happened. She was losing the battle. Finally, slowly, she stopped fighting as her vision faded into blackness.