The Library Tunnel (Original Short)

The Bucksport Library is that favorite place of mine that I rarely remember unless I’m walking by it or I want a certain book that I’m not willing to pay money for. It’s how I think all libraries should be; quiet and almost completely devoid of life. Over a hundred and fifty years old, the tiny library still used the card system and had only two computers. You could check out as many books as you could carry out to your car, or you could just sit down in an aisle and read. The library would stay open as long as someone was reading.

It was a place where Twilight was considered an adult book, and the YA bookshelves were decorated in cobwebs, but for some reason, that just seemed to add to its charm.

I had graduated high school only a few minutes before, and for old times’ sake, I went to the YA section, fingering the spines of my favorite books over the years. I paused, finding a book I had never seen before. As far as I knew, the only additions to the library in the last twenty years were all popular bestsellers that everyone had already seen the movie of. But this book was a simple leather-bound book, barely an inch thick. It had no title, and I wondered if someone had forgotten their journal and the librarian had mistaken it for a fallen book.

I pulled it out and then the wall opened up,revealing a dark and narrow tunnel that seemed to go on forever. I ran inside just as the wall slid shut behind me. There wasn’t any way to go but forward. So I grinned and started jogging.

The tunnel behind me lit up,showing pictures and stories. Heartbreaks, victories, and lazy days listening to the Beatles. But the tunnel in front of me remained dark, except for the next step in front of me.

Several times the tunnel split into forks and I turned, choosing on an impulse. I kept running into the unknown, memories lighting up brighter than stars behind me.

At the end of the tunnel was a door, old and well-worn by hands and weather. I pushed it open and came out on a deserted highway. There was a lone sign telling me where I was, covered in dirt and partially hidden by evergreens: Leaving Bucksport. I stepped forward, my choice already made. I touched the sign for good luck and ran out of Bucksport, into the dark unknown, my path illuminated behind me.




They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul. But all I see when I look into my eyes is the color of gold. Gold means pure, and I’m not pure. My eyes are like that of a cat, and cats can be gods or devils, depending on what religion you follow. So who’s to say what that means? If my eyes really did show my soul, they’d show the faces of all the people I’ve killed or the rotting corpses I grew up among. The splintering crucifix I hung upon for three days, the only person I truly loved and trusted, me beating the devil at the crossroads, or the years amounting upon years.

But my eyes are gold, and I am not pure.

Interview With The Deities

What do you guys do in your free time?
Alana: Steal, or manage crime.
Helen: Shop. And date guys. But mostly shop.
Sadie: Archery, hang out in the woods, bug Mark. What else?
Mark: Work with animals and bug Sadie.
Tom: Girls

If you were being attacked, how would you act?
Alana: Why would I be attacked? Everyone knows I can kick their ass.
Helen: Is my attacker cute?
Sadie: Kick him where it hurts and run like hell.
Mark: Ignore Sadie. She knows better than to put herself in dangerous situations. I’d call a friend for help.
Tom: Buy him a beer and call it even.

What weapons do you like the best?
Alana: Weapons mean you can be disarmed. Better to go with fists.
Helen: If I have to, I’m pretty good in a knife fight. But why fight, when you can usually convince your attacker to take you to dinner instead?
Sadie: Bow and arrow. Best effective when the arrow head is dipped in lemon juice and salt. And, hello, Mark? At least I can defend myself. You can’t without your animal friends.
Mark: Shut up, Sadie. I don’t have a favorite weapon.
Tom: Swords. Nothing is cooler or better than a sword.

What do you think is human’s best invention?
Alana: I would say music, but let’s be real. Animals invented music. I guess I’ll have to say idiocy, because without idiots, I’d be bored.
Helen: Shopping. Duh! And romance novels.
Sadie: Shirtless guys.
Mark: Who the hell are you seeing shirtless? And that’s not an invention. Best invention ever is animal domestication, hands down.
Tom: Pirates. And books.

Who do you depend on?
Alana: Myself
Helen: Myself
Sadie: Myself
Mark: Myself
Tom: Myself


In Ancient Greek times, a king’s treasury caught on fire. Orpheus saw the smoke and immediately played his lyre to put it out. But when the music mingled with the fire, an infant girl danced out with her eyes the color of molten gold, a spirit of fire and the magical ability to play music better than even Apollo. Her name was Alana.

The Motorcade Thief

Alana surfaced with a gasp. It wouldn’t be long before the authorities would fish the car out of the water and she had to be long gone by then. She didn’t have time to cut through red tape, not with Jimena and Melantho out there. Uno surfaced beside her, coughing and hacking. He glared at her. “Next time… use a pay phone.”

Alana simply grinned. “Come on. You have to admit that was fun!”

Uno muttered something unintelligible and grabbed Alana’s arm. A second later they were out of the Gulf and in some grassy field. Uno shook water from his hair and shed his leather jacket while Alana swept her own hair into a ponytail, still grinning from a major adrenaline high. “Where are the others?”

“At a crappy motel in Maine, where else? Please tell me you found something useful. I don’t want to save your ass for nothing.”

“Okay, first of all, you didn’t save me. Nobody saves me ‘cus I take care of myself. And yeah, I know where Mark and Tom are. So we can either sit in a cow field or we can go join the others and make a plan. Dumb ass.”

Uno shook his head. “You really don’t know these people, Alana. They’re not like anyone you’ve ever faced before.”

Alana cocked her head to one side, eyebrows raised. “In case you forgot, Uno, I’ve made the devil cry. I think I can handle Jack the Ripper and the other crackpots. Let’s. Go.”

World News:The Ultimate Grand Theft Auto

WASHINGTON D.C.- Yesterday a mysterious thief broke into the White House Military Office and stole the Presidential Motorcade. The motive behind the thief’s actions is unknown, as well as her identity. Witnesses have spotted the limousine racing down the highway, and everyone questioned within a three mile range could hear the song “Greased Lighting”. Detectives think the source of the music was the motorcade even though none of the witnesses could say which direction the music was coming from.  Mrs. Preston, an elderly lady living in Virginia stated: “It was as if the music was coming from the Earth itself. The ground and air was vibrating, almost as if we were going to have an earthquake!”

Police helicopters were able to tell that it was a very young woman, maybe even as young as sixteen, with long dark hair and a manic grin. The helicopters followed the thief all the way to the Gulf of Mexico, going at the speed of  a hundred and two miles per hour. But instead of stopping from lack of gas or to avoid running into the Gulf, the thief actually steps on it and drives the Presidential Motorcade into the Gulf of Mexico. It takes the officials a full hour to pull the car out-empty, with the woman nowhere to be seen. The identity of her will probably never be known and the reasoning and the methods of such an act will surely be the biggest mystery of this decade. -Linda Gannet