The afternoon he spent at school felt almost as long as the morning, although this time was because he was eager to get to the library and finally find out who the anonymous sender was and not because of a few characters he couldn’t get out of his head.
As soon as the bell rang, he rushed out of the classroom and hurried toward the only exit to his freedom. He walked faster than he ever had as he headed to his personal paradise. When he reached said place, he was panting and his legs ached, hardly used to such intense activities. He finally entered the place he wished he could buy and live in until the end of his life.
Never ending rows of books where lined up all around the room, giving off a peaceful and serene atmosphere. Wooden shelves, seeming directly sculpted in trees, towered above him and to the ceiling like majestic and grand oaks, as if making it their duty to take care of the fragile papers they contained. The latter were solemnly lying on the shelves, colourful and inviting.
It wasn’t only the fact that he could read anything here that made Thomas love this place, but also the calm and pleasant ambiance as well as the numerous colours that made of the library the finest piece of art the boy had ever seen.
He tried not to hop around while he wandered through the maze that constituted the shelves. Most of the time, he’d let his feet lose him somewhere in this labyrinth and then he’d pick up a random book to read. He had certainly read nearly half of the library stock as it was his own ritual ever since he turned seven and learnt how to read by himself.
However, this time he was searching for a particular book. He walked some more and eventually found the ‘T’ shelf. He sought through the volumes until he noticed what he was looking for: the ‘TM128’ code written on a few spines. He was only missing the last two letters which he couldn’t remember from the dream he had had.
He let his right hand brush against the edges and picked one of them. It was a small story with lots of drawings he remembered reading after he entered middle school. He opened the first page and took out a small snow-white envelope where his name was handwritten. For some reason, he expected it. It had to be that very tale.
He put the letter in his bag, hiding it between copybooks, and made his way to the entrance hall where he borrowed the small book. He watched the clock on the old façade facing the library while exiting and concluded it was time for him to get home.
His journey was quiet and he spent most of it lost in his thoughts. When he came home, he was surprised to find out both his parents were already back and talking more than Thomas had heard them do in weeks. He smiled as he made his way to his room to put down his schoolbag and back to the tiny living room.
He greeted his father and kissed his mother’s cheek before leaving them to resume their conversation. He took advantage of this time to do his homework and to cook the family a delicious dinner. For the first time in weeks, the three of them talked while eating – though Thomas preferred listening – and the boy was quite excited about it.
That was until his father decided he controlled Thomas’ life entirely. Again.
“What about school”, the man asked with a slight smile, trying to be nice for once, “you still have good grades and good friends?”
As if anybody would want to be friends with me, Thomas thought bitterly. He faked a smile and nodded as he was used to doing such situations.
“I’m sure you’ll be even happier when you start working. I can feel it”, the older went one further.
Honestly, Thomas’ knew his father didn’t even do it on purpose. He was trying to offer Thomas a great life and prospects to get him a nice future… only it wasn’t the future the boy wanted. He never asked, only assumed his son wanted what he wanted; and Thomas never told him off. That evening was no exception given that Thomas let him ramble about his future without even listening, his mind drifting to some better place.
After he finally went to his bedroom, he let himself slump on his bed, watching at the once-white ceiling while trying to calm his inner turmoil down. Did he make the best choice? Or should he rather have said his mind and disappointed his father in the same time? He really didn’t know anymore.
His eyes wandered through the room and lingered on his worn-out bag. He suddenly remembered what the discussion had pushed out of his mind – namely the very existence of the letters – and got up faster than he thought was humanly possible. Cautiously, he retrieved the envelope from its oppressor.
With the most care in the world, Thomas opened the white little thing and took the letter it contained out. He noticed that something else was waiting along inside the packet and took out two bus tickets which he put down on his old wooden desk. He finally started to read the second letter from his mysterious sender which he hoped to be the last, though the two tickets seemed to imply the contrary.
The writing was still the same, as smooth and neat as before. The letter however was very different.
“Good evening Thomas,
I must admit I’m quite impressed. I didn’t really think you’d find this letter at all, let alone so fast. Congratulations about it by the way! Anyway, we’re not here to discuss about how life is going.
I guess my last letter left you with your share of unanswered questions: who are you? How do you know me so well? Those are the questions I can’t – for obvious reasons – answer, or at least not yet. I can answer a few others though. Maybe it’ll guide you on your further journey.
First, if you found this letter, then you obviously remembered enough to find the book. Do you remember it too? I hope so, it used to be so dear to you when you were a child!
Which brings here your next “task”. Why don’t you go back to your steps as a child? I guess you’d find it entertaining and… purposeful. Maybe you could even find a new letter of mine and – who knows – memories.
I’m sorry I can’t say much more in this letter, but I promise I’ll answer more questions of yours in my next one. You just have to find it, see, it’s not that hard.
Remember Thomas; only that will help you.
Oh, and you might want to bring that Matt friend of yours along, he might be useful. Maybe he too remembers now.
Looking forward to meet you again soon.”
If Thomas had felt overrun when he had received the first letter, the second one was a lot worse. What would the need be to make a journey to his childhood? And with Matt moreover? Thomas was lost and starting to somewhat panic.
Yet, one thing was for sure: whoever they were, the sender was someone who knew him very well, maybe even more than himself, and that had known him in the past too. That scared Thomas much more than he’d ever let anyone know.
Where did he know that person from? He only had one wish: that they weren't someone he was ‘friends’ with in middle school. He didn’t need any reminder of this part of his past. But Thomas didn’t think their meeting was this recent as the dream he had had seemed old, as if imprinted somewhere in the deepest and darkest recess of his memory.
Now that the adrenaline of finding a new letter was wearing off, the thought of his dream only aroused more questions than he could bear in his right mind: what happened at that time, when did it even take place, and why did he only remember it now? And most importantly, how did the mysterious sender know he’d remember things precisely now?
Thomas didn’t know a thing anymore. He just wished to cut the chase, so that he could focus on other things in his life and sleep again. Now, he only knew that dreams and sleep overall would not be plentiful this night. Still, he lied down on his bed in the dark, trying to rest for another day in school.
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