🏆 ❝𝘛𝘙𝘈𝘝𝘌𝘓𝘌𝘙❞ - AIM TO ENGAGE 2023 WINNER
🏆 ❝𝘔𝘈𝘙𝘒𝘚 𝘖𝘍 𝘋𝘌𝘚𝘛𝘐𝘕𝘠, 𝘔𝘈𝘛𝘊𝘏𝘌𝘚 𝘖𝘍 𝘍𝘈𝘛𝘌❞ - AIM TO ENGAGE 2023 FAVORITE PICK
Explore the Multiverse in this short story anthology following two souls, Dara and Page, as they...
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The air was cold, sending shivers up Page's arms. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his trench coat after pulling the collar to protect his neck. Shouldn't have forgotten the scarf.
His trainers slapped the pavement, leading him towards the only place he set out this weekend. He should be studying for his finals, but something about a fictional fairy coming to life in his room and warning him to never go back to Iris' bookshop made him want to go and confirm something. Well...maybe more than one thing.
Dara flitted back to the back around dawn. He couldn't have been more glad. The notion of trying to get some shut-eye while a fairy woman glowered at him from the corner of his room was enough to send him keeping up with her vigil. It was only when she disappeared in a flash of light and fluttered the pages of the borrowed book did he collapse on his pillows and caught up on his missed hours.
A yawn fought to escape his lips, and he shielded the proof of not having enough sleep with a closed fist. What Dara told him and implied last night sent his mind reeling. It was a stuff for the books, of the fiction narratives he shoved into his head since he was twelve. He tried every reasoning he could, ones that wouldn't implicate his beloved sanity, and none of them fit whatever he experienced. No, he wasn't going crazy—at least, not yet. He wasn't dreaming either. And most of all, Dara and the book were as real as they could be.
Which sent him reeling towards the conclusion he was presented with. A conclusion which prompted him to throw on a coat and stick his toes into his boots for an early morning stroll. Whatever Iris was, she couldn't be that bad, considering she gave him the book containing Dara and even pushed it on him. If she knew something about it, then...
The bell dinged upon his entry. Iris perked up and adjusted her glasses. As if on cue, her gaze landed on the book tucked underneath Page's arm as he approached the counter. "I've come to return this," he said, putting the book over the wood's peeling finish. "I guess I wasn't up for the gravity of the plot. There's too much happening."
Iris stuck a lip out. "I see," she said, tapping a finger on the book's hardbound cover. It was then he noticed her nails were tapered to a point, painted red at the edges, and seemed to send him a message. But what? Characters he could analyze for the id, ego, and superego, but real people? Nah.
"I hope you're not returning this because of...paranormal reasons," Iris prompted.
A frown pulled at the corners of his lips. "What paranormal reasons?"
She took the bait with such delight, mouth widening into a smile. He was yet to decide if it was manic or friendly. "Oh, like people coming to life," she said, her voice dropping into a lazy purr. "Fairies crawling out of the book. Readers falling in love with fiction enough to break curses. Nothing of the sort? Doesn't it ring a bell?"
Page's boots skidded backwards, his ankle hitting the nearest pile of books on the floor. "That's...oddly specific," he said. Why was it getting colder here? Did he leave the door open? "No. Didn't ring any bells."
