The Other Side

The library was dark and musty. Tables, shelves and unused candles were dust-covered and forgotten.
Skulking in the corner, Alastair crouched.
“She’s supposed to be here,” he whispered to himself under his breath. He sniffed the air. Then grit his teeth.
Something wasn’t right.
He pulled the knife from the sheathe on his belt, and held the blade in the palm of his hand at the ready. He hopped from shadow to shadow, careful not to knock over this pile of books, or that pile of ancient magazines with faces long forgotten gracing their covers; now dulled and yellowed with time.
That is when the light caught his eye. Clear as day, yet dream-like in its kaleidoscopic of swirls and colors.
“What the…” he pressed on, closer than he usually dared, "Is that?’ he let the rest fall silent and the world about him spun, toppling head over feet.
The library steadied, but he was not alone!
“Elshanor?” Alastair asked. Same pretty face, but something.. “Wait, you’re not MY Elshanor?”
Elshanor gawked, as shocked as he.

View this story's 4 comments.