The Guardian of Threshold

by A. A. Volts

  “What happened? Did you fall off the bed and hit your head? Because if that’s the reason, I’m sure that’s normal, at least for you,” said Jonas, unable to contain his laughter.

  “Very funny. Seriously though, I had this terrible nightmare. It was… surreal. I think…” I paused, “I think… I died.” I finally finished. Having just realized the implications of what I’d said. I had to get more information. There had to be someone in town who could help me.

  “You obviously didn’t die,” said Jonas.

  As we got to the corner of Main Street, I turned right while he tried to turn left to go toward the restaurant.

  “Where are you going? La Luna is this way,” he said as he quickly turned around and started to follow me in the opposite direction.

  “Mark? Where are you— I mean where are we going?” asked Jonas, as I paid no attention to him. I was caught up in my own thoughts.

  “Mark Anthony!” said Jonas.

  “Yes?”

  “Where the hell are we going?”

  “I need to stop by the library on the way, there’s something I have to do there,” I said, only paying the necessary attention to be considered sociable as I gazed into the distance, trying to sort out my options.

  What Jonas didn’t know was that a window of hope had opened up for me when I uttered the words “I died.” He couldn’t have known the implications of that, or the possibilities I’d just envisioned. He couldn’t have known that it meant I could see my mother again.

  If I was right, I would be able to see her every night, and I would once again feel a sense of normalcy. Just the thought of feeling her love and care made me drown in hope and wonderment.

  “Carla isn’t going to be happy that we’re late again, but oh well,” said Jonas carelessly. He hated being bossed around by his older sibling—although they were twins, Carla had been born a full two minutes before Jonas, and she never let him forget who was the boss.

  “I just hope she doesn’t order my food. So, do you care to fill me in on why we’re going to the library?” Jonas finally asked.

  “It’s about what happened to me this afternoon, I need to check on something,” I said vaguely.

  “Do you mean the dream?”

  “It wasn’t a dream, it was more like a very real nightmare,” I said.

  “Then it was a nightmare? But why do you seem to be so… so happy?” said Jonas, looking puzzled.

  It was true; I’d been filled with immense joy and happiness, a strange feeling that I hadn’t experienced in years. Even the biting cold felt warm and comforting. My hands, which had been freezing just before my epiphany, now felt painlessly numb. At that moment, nothing could hurt me.

  “I’m not 100 percent sure yet… promise me you won’t laugh?” I asked, having decided to fill him in.

  “I can promise that I’ll try not to,” said Jonas, already laughing.

  “This afternoon I took a nap in which I felt my soul lift out of my body and hover in the air. I was certain that I was dead when a strange voice started to talk to me. It was like a warning to stay away from that place. Then I started to fall through the floor, which ended up with me falling into my bed awake,” I said.

  “So why is that good?” asked Jonas, confused.

  “Don’t you see it? I was sure that I’d died, yet here I am talking to you. Don’t you realize what that means?”

  “Huh… it means you’re glad you didn’t die,” said Jonas lightly.

  “No! It means there’s a small chance I can see my… mother again; see her, talk to her, maybe even touch her.”

  “Mark, it was just a dream… no, a nightmare,” said Jonas seriously. As delicately as he could, he added, “We all have those once in a while, but it doesn’t mean we’ll see our dead loved ones again.”

  “There has to be more to it, I know there is. If that thing hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve found out,” I said. “I’m hoping the librarian will know more about it and maybe even recommend me a book or two.”

  “Okay, my friend, we’re almost there,” said Jonas, apparently not sure of what else to say as we passed the old Stoneham Theatre & Ensemble red brick building, which happened to be located right in the heart of Stoneham.

  It was fairly dark already. The signs and theater marquee were brightly lit, giving us a warm yellow glow as we passed underneath.

  I could not help but notice the sign on the marquee advertising the next Christmas showing. My mother loved that theater.

  ***

  The ambient light seemed to change as we got closer to the Stoneham Public Library. I looked up, trying to find out why, and that’s when I noticed that the streetlights near the library were burnt out, leaving the library illuminated only by the bright shades of red and orange in winter sky. It made the square concrete building seem sinister.

  The library was surrounded by a park filled with trees—some as high as a two-story building—and benches that spread throughout the property, all of which were deserted due to the cold.

  “I wonder if they are still open,” said Jonas, looking around.

  “I hope so,” I said, cringing as I looked inside, searching for any signs of life.

  I climbed the front steps, skipping every other step in a rush to get in faster.

  I grabbed the handle on the door and pulled it as my heart sped up. Much to my relief, the cold metal door clicked open.

  We still hadn’t seen any signs of life inside, but at least the lights were still on.

  As we entered the library we could see the librarian getting ready to close.

  “I’m sorry, but we are about to close in less than five minutes,” said the librarian as she approached us from the back of the library, carrying a few books.

  “We won’t be long, we promise,” said Jonas quickly.

  “Maybe you can help us, I’m looking for books regarding something that happened to me today,” I said nervously.

  “And what was that?” asked the librarian.

  “I had this dream, or nightmare, in which I was floating in the air when some creature talked to me. Are there any books on anything remotely related?” I asked. I was hopeful but also rather embarrassed. There was something about saying it out loud that made it sound unbelievable and even crazy.

  “Without doing any research, it’s hard to tell. Perhaps books on dream interpretation? I think we have a few of those,” she suggested.

  “I was looking for something more specific, perhaps more scientific,” I replied.

  “Sorry, I can’t help you off the top of my head. But feel free to look around for a couple minutes if you like. You’ll find dream related books in the nonfiction section just down the corridor. Just don’t take too long,” she finished.

  Jonas and I proceeded to the darker end of the library, where the lights had already been turned off for the night as we looked for the right section.

  After a good minute, we found what seemed to be the correct section.

  We started to go through the many titles and authors, but after a couple of minutes we didn’t find anything helpful.

  “This isn’t what I need,” I said, frustrated as time ran short.

  “Maybe we have the wrong section,” suggested Jonas.

  Just as he finished speaking, I saw another librarian walking toward us. I was sure she was going to tell us that we needed to leave.

  “Quick question,” I said. “I’m looking for books related to floating while sleeping. Do you know of any?”

  “Oh dear. I think I know what you mean,” she said in very calm and soft voice. “But you’re in the wrong section. Follow me.” She turned around and took off at a surprisingly fast pace for a woman of her age.

  As we followed her to the back of the library, I couldn’t help but notice that her outfit seemed strange and outdated. She wore a full-length pinstriped dress with a white Peter Pan collar and a red satin ribbon. Who still wears those these days? Also, her face looked so… different and yet familia
r.

  “Right this way,” she said as she briskly navigated through the maze of bookshelves. “Don’t you love the smell of old books?”

  “Smells like sweet vanilla,” I said, surprised I hadn’t sneezed yet.

  “That’s because of the old books. They actually smell like a combination of grassy notes with a tang of acids and a hint of vanilla over an underlying mustiness. This unmistakable smell is as much a part of the books as their contents,” replied the librarian. Then added, “true story.”

  She led us deeper into the old and now deserted library. The only source of light was a rather dim yellow light bulb that had been left on.

  It seemed that we had passed every subject imaginable before we finally came to a halt in the New Age section, which was located all the way in the back as if hidden in shame.

  The old librarian put on a beautiful old Victorian sterling lorgnette—I had never seen one of those before, except on TV. It had an exquisite spring flower motif and an engraved handle with the initials “EB” on it.

  Just when I was about to ask the meaning of the engraving, she turned around, and I was able to read her badge: “Mrs. Emerald Barnes—Librarian.”

  “Where is it now… it should be right… here it is!” she said as she removed the book from a shelf across from me and brought it closer to her face. She blew on the book, and thousands of small dust particles flew off, looking for a place to settle.

  “This is it! A Guide to Astral Projection and Related Techniques, by Victor Windlow. This should clarify things a bit,” she said, handing me the book. I held it as if it contained the secrets of the universe.

  “There are many other books on the subject, but this is by far my favorite, and I think you will like it as well,” Mrs. Barnes added. “Come back and see me after you have a chance to read it,” she said, putting away her lorgnette.

  “Astral projection? What exactly is astral projection?” I asked.

  “Everything you need to know is in there, but in a nutshell, astral projection is when your body falls asleep and your soul, or spirit if you will, separates from your body to explore other realms, primarily the world beyond,” Mrs. Barnes said in the most serious tone. “It’s simpler than it sounds, really. You see, every being is made of two basic elements, two different building blocks if you will. The material body that we all know and understand, and the spiritual body which is ignored by most, including doctors and scientists.”

  “When we sleep, the physical body rests, and the astral body gets its exercise. So you see, we all live dual lives so to speak, one while awake and another while we sleep at night,” explained Mrs. Barnes. “We do this every single night. You do it as well. Somehow when you had your astral experience, you were able to trick your consciousness into remaining aware—” She was interrupted by the sound of heels walking toward us.

  “Boys? Come on, I need to close, where are you guys?” asked the other librarian.

  “We’re here!” I said loud enough so she could hear me.

  “How did you know about my dream?” I asked Mrs. Barnes. I didn’t remember telling her about it.

  “I have to go now, come back and see me when you have read that book, there’s much more that I need to tell you,” she said, before she disappeared among the bookshelves.

  “Oh… there you are! Have you found the book you needed?” asked the other librarian.

  I couldn’t help but notice that she was dressed differently from Mrs. Barnes, and even more puzzling was the fact that her badge was also different. It read “Jane Olstein—Librarian—Middlesex County Public Library.”

  “Yes, we have, thank you,” I said, dumbfounded.

  “Follow me, and I’ll check that out for you,” said Ms. Jane as she turned heading toward the front of the library. As we walked behind her, I looked at Jonas. He looked astonished, and for the first time since I’d met him, he was at a loss for words.

  “Astral projection? Huh, interesting,” said Ms. Jane, flipping through pages randomly. “I wouldn’t have imagined this was what you were looking for.”

  “Yes, I didn’t know it either, the other librarian helped us find it,” I said while she scanned my library card.

  “What other librarian?” asked Ms. Jane, surprised.

  “The older lady, white curly hair in a bun with an old style dress. I believe her name was… Mrs. Barnes,” I said.

  “I’m… the only one… here,” stuttered Ms. Jane. “I’ve been working here for over twenty years. I’ve been the only librarian… for a long time,” said Ms. Jane as chills ran down my spine and goose bumps spread over my body.

  “But we just talked to her,” said Jonas.

  “I’m afraid that’s… impossible,” objected Ms. Jane. “You see, Mrs. Barnes passed away in 1987, back when I first started working here, and how do you even know what she looked like?”

  Ms. Jane looked all around as if she was the one who had just seen a ghost—she got so pale she looked more like one than Mrs. Barnes ever did.

  “Would you be a dear and wait for me while I shut off the lights and lock the doors?” said Ms. Jane. Her hand shook as she nervously handed me back the book.

  “Sure, no problem,” I said, feeling a bit guilty for having caused such a strong reaction in her.

  “Okay, I just need to shut off the computers. One second, please,” said Ms. Jane, still looking distressed.

  We waited for her to shut down the computers and the last of the remaining lights, and then we followed her outside, where she insisted we wait for her to lock the doors.

  During our time at the library, the weather outside had grown even colder, something I’d thought impossible.

  Ms. Jane opened her rather large red purse and searched desperately for her library keys. Her cheeks were now rosy, having recovered some color due to the cold weather.

  A few seconds passed before I heard the clinking sounds of keys as she pulled them from the bottom of her purse.

  “Okay, have a good night,” said Ms. Jane as we all made our way down the stairs to the sidewalk.

  She hopped in her yellow Volkswagen Beetle and left Jonas and me there, looking puzzled.

  We walked the next two blocks in complete silence. I was concentrating on skimming my newly acquired book while Jonas just walked beside me silently, which was a rarity.

  “Let me ask you something,” said Jonas, not sounding like his usual self. “You’re not having a thing with my sister? Are you, mate?”

  “Ah? No! I’m not having a thing with your sister. Why do you ask?” I said.

  “You two have been acting strange lately,” said Jonas, matter-of-factly.

  “You know, she’ll date someone, sometime,” I said, trying to gauge his reaction.

  “I feel bad for the poor lard-ass already,” said Jonas, cracking his knuckles as if he was trying to convince me of his determination and strength.

  It was definitely not the answer that I’d hoped for.

  After that, we continued walking toward La Luna’s in awkward silence.

  ***

  Before long, we arrived at La Luna’s.

  “Carla isn’t going to be happy,” said Jonas, looking around at the usual places we sat. “There she is!” he said, pointing frantically.

  As we walked toward the table, Carla looked at us, seemingly upset. She seemed anxious, but maybe she was just embarrassed to be sitting alone.

  “Where have you guys been?” she asked impatiently when she saw us. “I’ve been sitting here for over half an hour, looking as though I was stood up, just waiting—”

  “Mark had to make a quick stop at the library and I had to go with him,” said Jonas, as if I had forced him.

  “Nice try, but the library closes at six, and it’s now 6:25,” said Carla, looking at her watch. “For all I know, you guys stopped at the video game store. Again.”

  “It’s true! We went to the library and saw a spirit,” said Jonas, taking Carla and me by surprise.

&nbs
p; “Right,” said Carla, opening the menu.

  “He’s not lying,” I said as I sat in the empty seat next to Carla and proceeded to open my menu. I felt like pizza, but I didn’t think it sounded appealing enough, so I ordered some cannelloni instead.

  As we sat in the solarium of the restaurant, the weather took another turn for the worse. I looked outside and noticed that small, delicate snowflakes had started to fall, accumulating slowly on the glass pane.

  “What do you mean, you saw a ghost?” asked Carla.

  “I didn’t say that I saw a ghost. What I said was that we saw a spirit, which is very different,” said Jonas.

  “That’s the same thing,” said Carla, rolling her delightful eyes.

  “No, it’s not,” said Jonas. “A ghost is scary while a spirit is not.”

  “Ah… are you sure it was a spirit?” asked Carla, still not believing him. I was trying to decide if I should intervene and back him up or just stay out of it.

  “I’m sure. I’m not making this up, I swear,” said Jonas, sounding very confident. “Mark saw it too! We both did.”

  “It’s true, I was there,” I said.

  We explained what had happened in great detail over our meal.

  Carla didn’t seem to believe us at first; I didn’t blame her, I hardly believed it myself, and I was holding the book Mrs. Barnes had given me.

  “She found us this book. She wanted me to read it.”

  “May I see it?” asked Carla.

  “Sure, here. From what I understand, it has to do with leaving your own physical body behind while the spirit wanders freely.”

  Carla took the book and started to flip through it. She then opened her purse, took out a notepad and a pen, and wrote down the author’s name and the title of the book.

  “I’m reading it next, so you will have to wait, sis,” said Jonas.

  “All I need to read any book is a computer with Internet connection. In fact, I could read that book tonight when I get home if I wanted to,” teased Carla.

  The restaurant was packed. Everyone from my school seemed present. You had the jock table, the nerd table, and the nobody-cares table, which was our table.