What they say about comas, it’s not true.
Read an encyclopedia and it’ll tell you that it is a state of unconsciousness from which you cannot be roused. Well, the last part is right, there’s very little that can be done to awaken someone once they’re out to it.
But I can assure you, that I was entirely conscious for the six and a half weeks that I was comatose. It is not an experience I will soon forget and it was an experience that would change my life.
And like the phoenix rising from the ashes, I opened my eyes; reborn. But not just me, the world around me too. But I get a head of myself.
For the last year, since my 18th birthday, I had been working in a book store, simply and unimaginatively named “Doraster’s Books” after the previous owner. Not one of the many chain-stores that have sprouted up all over Seahaven, but a small independent shop run by a friendly Tir couple, Liella and Jarek.
The fact that they were Tir did not put me off, I’m very pro-Tir. They’re a fun-loving people, and since their re-introduction to society a decade ago, I’ve been ever curious about these beings that everyone believed extinct for nigh on three centuries. How could they just so completely disappear and reappear again? Where did they go? Did the Skrel’eth and the other mythical races go with them? Why did they not return too?
Work began like usual. Opening shop, chatting with Liella and my favorite part, opening the box of new stock when it arrived. There’s nothing like the aroma of a new book, getting to caress the pages, and perhaps turn them for the first time. And to me, each of the books cried out like little orphan kittens, “Take me home!”.
Most of the time I was able to resist, but three paperbacks had grabbed my attention this morning: “Red Moon”, “Some Kind of Magic” and “Tir: Everything You Wanted to Know But Where Afraid to Ask.” Two paper back romances and the last, of course, non-fiction.
A small smirk pulled at his thin lips, obviously amused at my flustered state.
“Where’s Jarek?”
“Not here.” Even I was surprised at my bluntness and curt tone.
“I can bloody see that darlin’. Where is he?”
“If you were meant to know that, he’d of told you.”
My words were met with an angry glare, and after a few seconds of looking into those smouldering dark depths I was almost ready to give in. Thankfully though, he spoke again before I did.
“You know, you weigh a bloody ton.”
“It’s all coat. Though… feel free to put me down and STOP with the kidnapping.”
To my surprise, he obliged. Immediately. Dumping me on the floor of the maze of sewers we had entered some half hour ago like the sack of potatoes he had carried me as. I mentally considered my options as I looked down the passage we had turned into and tried to see if my memory was good enough to see me back to the entrance. It wasn’t. So I stayed put.
With my hideous coat under one arm, I turned about on my heel and picked the nearest passage and started to walk hastily towards it. I would say that it was the East, or the West or the like, but to be honest, I had long since lost track of which direction was what. And I’m not one of those people with an innate sense of direction. I kind of expected him to grab my arm, or protest. But he didn’t and I stormed off.
Chapter Two 
- Chapter One
- Prologue
- Notes
- Links
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