The Used Bookstore

An attempt at something I'm not good at.

 

          I arrived in my unwashed, dented magenta Mustang at a parking lot with faded yellow lines and bent parking signs. As I stepped out of the car, the cool, crisp morning air tickled my nose and aroused my senses, leaving me refreshed and content. I looked down to notice that all of the flowers had begun to blossom around me. I picked a white, six petal flower with a red center and stuck it in my hair. I even felt goosebumps as the wind gently blew the flower.

However, having planned ahead, I knew the rest of my day would not be as inviting as this moment was, convincing me to dress up in my favorite short jean skirt and short sleeve top. After all, there was no point in wearing pants if the toasty, black leather seats in the car were just going to turn them into a sauna. Soaking up my last few moments in the sun, I slowly made my way towards the used bookstore. My heels clicked loudly as I walked, making me anxious to enter the store so that I would no longer be heard. 

Ever since school had started, I could not remember having a day to myself where I could just sit back and relax. Always feeling so loaded with jobs to do and homework to finish, I had been longing for a day off.  I knew that being in a used bookstore with my list of “To Read” books would provide me with the peace and quiet I needed that only being alone could satisfy. Unfortunately, my day did not start out that way.

          “What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a bookstore on such a nice day like this?” a voice screamed at me..

          Not having even stepped two feet in the door, I jumped in shock and almost fell over, grabbing on to a bookcase to keep my balance. I glanced over and saw that the man staring at me seemed to have just walked off a movie set. His gray hair reached past his shoulders, though it was so thin you could see the dandruff flaking off his skull. His right eye bulged slightly, with his body leaning slightly to the left. The weight he carried around drooped over his belt line, causing him to sweat profusely even though a fan next to him was set on high.

          He smiled and continued to stare at me when I did not immediately reply, and I noticed his straggle tooth sticking out past his lips, as though trying to get away. I smiled back, unsure of what exactly to say, and walked straight down the first aisle of books.

          “You let me know if ya need just anything at all, pretty girl,” he called after me.

          “Yeah, okay weirdo,” I muttered under my breath.

          As I made my way around, looking for my favorite section, I saw that the owner had quite the collection of books. If I really wanted to, I could buy a book of children’s rhymes or any V.C. Andrews novel I desired.  The aisles were lined with Sci-Fi novels, horror, romance, fiction, non-fiction, children’s, “adult,” classics, and more.  Never had I seen a used bookstore with this large of a selection.

          Finally, in the back corner, I found what I was looking for. Having lately taken a great interest in classic books, I began searching through the mass piles of old, ripped covers for certain novels I loved, wanted to read, or even had heard on the grapevine were mildly interesting. Since each novel would have numerous copies, I knew it would be a time consuming task to find my perfect copy, and in some cases, translation, of each novel on my list.  

Since I had given my copy of The Iliad to a friend for his class until he did not need it any longer, I decided it wouldn’t hurt to buy myself another copy. I assumed he would probably write in my book, and his ideas would be stupid and unrelated. Plus, his handwriting would probably be sloppy, and being on the anal side of life, that wouldn’t make me happy. There is no need to fight over a book.

And so, I sat down next to the bottom shelf where all the novels that began with “I” were and dug out every single copy of The Iliad  that I could find.  As I piled the books one on top of another next to me on the floor, I browsed through the different translations. Luckily, I found a decently preserved copy by Stygt Ansikt. Not wanting to be disappointed entirely by the translation after purchasing the novel, I opened to the first page to read what its opening lines were:

 

“Sort of mad, sing out a lullaby, you of the undead,

Of Achilles’ unhappiness, cursed and unsafe…”

“Oh my God, what is this!?” I said, laughing at the absurdity of the translation.

“Is there a problem I can help you with, little girl?”

Practically leaning over me, I turned to find myself face to face with him. I tried to keep myself from noticing that he was staring down at my legs.

“Oh!... No, I’m sorry, I just found some personal amusement in some of these novels. Sorry about the mess, I’ll clean it up.”

“You just go on ahead and take your sweet little time,” he said, laughing as his raunchy tuna breath settled next to me, making me feel nauseous. 

“Okay, thank you…”

What a creepy guy, I thought. I wonder how long he was standing there before he said anything.

Right when I turned back to the novels I had piled up on the floor, the phone in my pocket rang. I jumped, and then laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Hello?”

“Hey babe, are you going to be coming home anytime soon?” my mom asked.

“No, I just got here? Why, what’s up? Do you need the car or something?”

“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that. I just had a weird feeling about today and wanted to make sure you were okay. You know, one of those parent intuition things.”

I laughed. “Mom, I will be fine. I know what I am doing. I will be home in a couple hours. Stop worrying so much.”

“Alright… I love you. Bye.”

Pushing all bad thoughts out of my head, I found the translation of The Iliad that I wanted, and continued on, gathering another four novels, including a brand new copy of Don Quixote, translated by Bawa Mama.  As I shuffled around, I noticed someone duck their head back behind a bookshelf a few feet behind me. Thinking it was probably just the owner wandering around, closely, I sat on my knees and began to search for the last novel I wanted.

The more I searched through books, the more I felt myself being watched. It finally got to the point where it must have become a game between me and the invisible peeper. As I shifted farther to the right, I would slightly peer over my shoulder to see if they were looking. Other than the first glimpse, though, I saw nothing out of the ordinary. As scared as I was, I dared not move anywhere else.

You’re in the dark corner of a bookstore whose owner gives you the creeps, of course you’re freaking out.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Just calm down. Grab your books, pay, and leave. Simple.

I gathered together the six novels and began to rise when I saw someone walk by at the end of the aisle. Thinking it was wiser to stay where I was, I stared down the aisle, hoping whoever it was didn’t find me. A few seconds later, the owner stopped at the end and dusted a few books with his cleaning supplies, smiling at me. I just stared back.

Of course, it’s the owner, and he’s all the way down there. Just go tell him you’re ready to check out and leave.

I picked up my things and started to follow him back to the register to pay when I heard a book fall a couple rows behind me. I turned around slowly and glanced behind me. A couple feet away from me stood a tall, good looking man in jeans, a black dress shirt and black jacket. His dark brown hair fell over his eyes, and through his glasses, I could see his piercing eyes staring at me. I faked a smile.

I began to take my first step towards the register when his hand grabbed my arm from behind me. I spun around to find myself being towered over by him. Standing well over six feet tall, his dark complexion shot fear through my body. His black eyes stared blankly back at me. Backing into a corner, I tried to free myself from his grip and leave.

“Why do you look at me like that? Don’t you know who I am?” he grinned.

“No…” Tears began to well in my eyes.

“Good.”

He spun me around so that my back was to him and had me completely surrounded with his arms. All I could do to keep myself from losing it was stare at the books in the corner I faced.

 He whispered in my ear, “I watch you parading around in your fancy little car with your arm candy dangling on you all the time. You think you are so great, like you can get away with anything. But I know what you do when you think no one is watching. I know where you are every minute of the day, who you’re going to go see, and even what you’re thinking.”

He pulled something out of his back pocket. I heard it click.

“I want you to feel pain, you piece of trash!” he spat in my ear.

He tightened his grasp around me. Before I could even say anything, the knife he had been holding behind his back sliced open the veins in my neck. I began to cry frantically as he slammed me against the two sides of the bookshelves in the corner, and I fell to the ground. Cowering in fear, I held my hand to my neck as I bled all over the novels around me. I felt a sudden pull on my head as he yanked my hair upwards. Facing him, he leaned down next to me, kissed me on the forehead, and watched my eyes go lifeless.

With my last breath, I felt him dragging me on across the floor and out the back door.