Surprise!

Physostigmine is administered in cases of Anticholinergic Syndrome... - it’s slowly starting to sink in what I’ve been studying for eight hours straight now. The library will close in two hours, and I haven’t even covered half of the material I was supposed to finish this week. Enough. I lift my heavy head and finally release my tense and stiff shoulders, feeling like rocks. As I push away from the table, a loud squeak echoes from the ancient chair. Some heads turn in my direction, but most are so focused on their laptops, deeply immersed in their academic trance that they don’t even hear a thing. Fine then. I stretch again, like a cat after an afternoon nap, hands raised high, and mouth wide open. I’ve mastered the art of silent yawning to perfection. I put my iPhone in my pocket, in my loose jeans, and leave the room. I need a break.

I walk quickly to the restroom, and as I wash my hands, I look in the mirror. Bags under my eyes, dry lips, and my tangled red curls in disarray. I look like I’ve been sleeping in this library rather than going home. I don’t want to go back to my seat yet; Pharmacology is currently the last thing that interests me. So, I take a short walk between the bookshelves. My long, ring-covered fingers slide across the book spines. I love books. I don’t even read most of the titles; I don’t have the strength for that. I run my fingers over books full of forgotten painters’ pictures, thinking about what lies beneath each of those covers and...

“OUCH!” I exclaim, pulling my hand back instinctively as fast as I can. Several annoyed nerds look at me disapprovingly and hiss, “Shush!” Well, fine, fine- I bring my finger to my mouth. The last book, or rather, the tome, was hot like a boiling kettle. As I look at my finger, I see a blister forming slowly.

What the hell!

“Shush!” - But I don’t care anymore. I look at that strange book again, and as I approach it once more, this time very slowly and cautiously, I feel the cold emanating from it. I touch it gently, and it immediately soothes my finger. A book with a golden cover, no title, no nothing. I take it in both hands and as I open it, suddenly everything goes black, and it feels like I’m falling backward. I grab the shelf, and everything returns to normal; it must be dizziness from so many hours of studying. I shake my head, and as I open the book again, it turns out to be just an ordinary and boring sculpture textbook. A bit disappointed, I want to put it back in its place, but I notice that there’s no room on the shelf. Everything’s full. WTF. Feeling a bit confused, I decide to return to my seat. I don’t even feel like putting the book back or finding the right place for it. I’ll just take it with me. I open the door to the room and see someone else setting up their things in my spot.

“Hey, I was sitting here,” I whisper to the tall brunette with old-fashioned curls.

“Nooo, this place was empty,” he calmly responds.

“How empty? My things were here! My laptop!” Now I don’t even whisper; I start shouting, “Thief, give me back my laptop, where are my things?”

Everyone’s eyes are on me, and I hear whispers like “Crazy” or “Loony?” but I don’t care. His audacity infuriates me, and now I just want to get my things back and get out of here. But he just looks at me calmly and replies,

“I would love to help you, my dear, but this place was empty. There were no ‘things’ here, and certainly no ‘laptop,’ as you called it. Maybe you need some fresh air? Let me help you outside.”

“Fuck off,” I answer, maybe a bit too aggressively, considering he’s actually quite cute. I snatch my wrist from his grip and look around the room. My things are nowhere to be found. But then as I starr back at those starring at me faces I can’t finde the surrounding I was sitting in for the last couple of months neither. Everything looks so vintage. All those people look so vintage. I want to check my iPhone, but it is also missing, even tho I was sure I had it with me all the time. I don’t understand anything anymore. Tears start welling up in my eyes. All I have is this stupid book under my arm. Damn it, I’ll take it; it’s the only thing I have now. I quickly leave the room, practically running, and wait for the library gates to start screeching because of detection the stolen book, but there’s silence - nothing.

I leave the library, and no one even notices that I took a book from it. I don’t understand anything anymore. Frustration tears me apart from the inside. A burning sensation in my throat, and warm tears rolling down my cheeks. What is this all about? Have I gone crazy? My contemplation is interrupted by a carriage passing centimeters away from my nose. “Watch where you’re going, girl!” the coachman yells at me. Even a horse-drawn carriage in the center of Berlin doesn’t amaze me anymore. Tired of it all, I just sit on the curb, throw the golden book beside me, and bury my face in my hands. I don’t even try to hold back the tears anymore. I’m sobbing and enduring this for about ten minutes when suddenly, a gust of wind picks up, causing the pages of the book to flutter. A cloud of eerie smoke emerges from it, forming a half-transparent, terrifying figure before me. My heart pounds as I hear a casual voice say, ”Surprise! You just unleashed a demon!”