.
The first to come over me, is the surprisingly fresh air, and the equally fresh air about the room, passing for a library. From the abandon I had seen, it should have had the air of a mausoleum, at best. Now it is close to the air of a greenhouse.
It made me trip between surprise, disappointment and shock. It is a frightening feeling, when what looks as if it had been a dead, abandoned room had the feel of a living entity? Is it what you expected, it sure isn't what I had expected.
What kept me in the room, is the fear of going back, and the boredom of what I had expected to face, where I had so recently escaped from.
Instead of the still, stale and dead air the room had promised at first glance, it is a living breathing air of a slight breeze in a warm summer's day.
The doors had slipped closed behind me and I had failed to notice, in part because it gave of no sound to speak of, just as much as it was my fascination of an exploration, never mentioned. The act none had told me about, as if it had been my very own surprise party. It promised me something. Any little girl in my place would have claimed the same, even at the risk of death, or it is how I had felt.
The one scent on the air, is the fresh print of ink on newly bound pages of numerous books. It was as if someone had stored a year's production of newly printed books in the room. Each and every book as new and fresh, as if they had all been printed just the day before, for all I could say. Who am I kidding, I'm not the expert of books, or how a new book should smell.
There is a path, maybe several lines of double-sided shelves of books, four feet between each shelf. The shelves reaching all the way up to the ceiling, somewhere up there, maybe ten feet up? I can't say, it is simply too tall for me to measure accurately.
By the looks, the oak wood shelves are as sturdy as the trees they had been made out of, it may have been deceptive, to a girl like me, merely nine years of age. I couldn't tell, and I had no intent of finding out.
Looking to the right and left, the shelves would be twenty feet to each side, by my estimate, and there is one or two behind it, I couldn't say. I guess it is irrelevant. I simply walked forwards, to the end of the path.
There is a grand door before me, and I promptly opened it. There, before me, is the reading chamber. I see a reading pulpet in the centre of the room. It is a dark red oak, but I can say nothing more of it. What I could say, is that there is a massive tome, resting squarely on top of it, closed, as if just waiting for someone to read it. Me, possibly?
What was I to do. There was but the one thing, and I walk to the book. Standing before it, as if it had been someone of great import. Someone whom I cared about, who cared about me in turn. It is but a feeling, a feeling I had, but couldn't quite place a finger on. I'm stuck, trapped. I had to take that one final step up to the book. It is just an ordinary book, or it is what I tried to tell myself.
Of course I was wrong, and I knew it. It couldn't be just an ordinary book. There could be no ordinary book in this library, in this room, and most certainly not on the reading pulpet. Simple as that.
I had found the book, almost as if I had been summoned here, and I couldn't turn back. Not now. I had no choice, and no alternative. I had gotten this far, only to turn back to what I had escaped? No, not really.
When I finally set eye on the cover, looking closer, I see what could be expressed as an ancient, or arcane diagram, it is what I'd say, by how people talk, even if it may be a common misconception of silly mystification?
Under the image, I made out what could only be taken for letters, text, making out a title. I tried to read it, but failed.
I changed my mind and tried to open the book. To my surprise, it wasn't all that hard. Why should it be, it is but an old book, for all I could say.
What I found, is a picture of a girl, and a horse. That is what I saw. Under it, I see more text, so I make a foolish attempt to read it. Pronouncing the words, the way I thought they were pronounced, from the letters I see on the page, from the left to the right, in part, because it is how I had been taught, and in part, because it is how the letters had been lined up. I had no idea what the words were, or what the text said, it made no sense to me.
First after I had red the short text I actually look up, the black bangs before my eyes. Yes, my hair is still the same raven black, shiny after the shower I had earlier today. Just the same, my skin a fairly light complexion you may call pink? I'm just another regular nine years old girl in a blue hospital uniform. My eyes are green. Just as you expected, I had my nails cut short, I'm still too young to care for the stylish of manicure.
I feel something on my back, trying to turn my head far enough to see what it was, before I gave up, reaching back, for a new attempt at what ever it was. Good thing the top is as short as it is. There is enough room between top and skirt. Finally, as I slipped the skirt down about two inches, I realized what it is. I'm growing a tail.
A few minutes later, the tail is a foot long, now I could clearly see what kind of a tail it is, a horse tail. Exactly what the image had said. My tail is the same black as my hair, or mane, was it? Aside from my now considerably longer bangs, my hair grows down my neck, in a typical mane, just like the horses had.
In a fit, I slammed the book closed and walked out of the room. On my way I noticed the boots I had been wearing. They now stand just inside of the door to the library. I left them there, as if they had never been mine, never been worn by me. I had never seen them before.
I did not look down, and I did not look back as I walked back to the elevator. I was in a haste, I did not want to be remineded of what had just changed, forever. I'm no longer the girl who had been signed in here, just these few days before. That girl does no longer exist. I'm what she had become. Dare I face the looks of my parents, let alone the doctors, or the girls I had taken for my friends, looking like this.
The doors promptly opened and I stepped in. Punching the numbers to the level I was supposed to be at, and go. Hoping I was going to be back, where I should have been all along. I had failed to realize the significance of the boots inside of the library. It's my boots. Yes, I'm still taller than I had been as I entered the room. Good thing I had been wearing the skirt.