Short Story: The World Behind the Bookshelf

One dark and rainy night, I sat silently in the attic staring out of the window, longing to be outside. Miss Mademoiselle said that I couldn’t get my shoes or socks wet. So there I sat, in that dusty old attic. I heard Mademoiselle yell “Maid! Maid, Get down here and close my window before I catch a cold! Hurry and don’t doddle!” I slowly got up crept over to the door and shut it. It’s not that I hate Mademoiselle, but hearing her scream to Rebecca, the maid, every day, got annoying pretty fast. As I slumped back over to the window, I stepped on a plank that made a really loud ‘CREAK!’ noise that made me jump almost two feet in the air. I came down hard on my ankle and fell to my right, into an empty cardboard box. Dust flew everywhere, making me sneeze. I balanced myself up on some stacked boxes and hobbled over to the window. With the moon’s light, I could see my left ankle start to swell. I didn’t want to call the maid, because I didn’t want to risk Mademoiselle’s rage, figuring out I was in the attic. I went over to one of the empty bookshelves and moved some boxes. The reason I couldn’t let Mademoiselle figure out that I was in the attic was because she might be suspicious of what I was doing there. Of course I could always just say that I was watching the rain, which was partly true, but the main reason why I was up there is for the same reason I always sneak up there in my free time. I finished moving the boxes next to the empty shelf, to reveal the best part of the entire mansion, The trap door. This wasn’t any ordinary trap door or a normal trap door that you see in fantasy movies, this door lead to MY world. I spent most of my time in there. I didn’t think anyone in that Mansion knew about it, nor did they care. I slowly lowered myself down into the ground on my good ankle and looked at what I pursued. Stairs. Let me just tell you this, stairs and a sprained ankle don’t go well together. When I had descended all 129 stairs,yes I’ve counted, I clicked on the lamp that was down there and admired my work. When I first moved here three years ago, I too had no clue about this place. But I soon discovered it and saw it had a magnificent potential. I had moved some old furniture down here from the attic: I found a lamp that still worked, a dusty old rug (I had to bang the dust to get off the dust but it ended up being fine). I also had to move some bookshelves that I found in the attic to my world. It was a cozy place. I went to the middle of the room and clicked on the fan that I had recently replaced. All the things in my room were items Mademoiselle had discarded. I also moved some books onto the bookshelves. I proceeded to walk up to my bookshelf and pulled off a book. But the book wouldn’t come! All the sudden, the bookshelf moved to my right and I heard a low, deep voice say “Hello”. I almost jumped through the ceiling! I thought to myself, “I’m the only one who knows about this place.” I know that the voice wasn’t from my world, but from the World Behind the Bookshelf.

By Grace Gurr

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