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Jux almost tumbled in his father's old recliner as he wrestled an invisible presence from his slumber. Then like an infant, his muscles suddenly relaxed and he settled into the chair again. Jux slowly blinked the blur from his eyes. Floaters suddenly occupied his sight in his subconscious. Jux tried to trace them with his fingers, then his eyes widened. Beyond the floaters, a tiny doll on the lower photo shelf in front of him winked. Jux blinked again and the doll was gone.
He sat completely sober now. Jux looked at the empty cans of beer scattered across his father's Persian rug. He wasn't sure the time and day or how long he had passed out for. Jux tried to stand, but a pounding headache made him trip across the living room, falling face down. He lifted his head and his eyes met the doll again. This time, she was halfway to his father’s library.
Jux sat up watching the open door in disbelief. “I could have never,” he blurted. For weeks, Jux had been wallowing in episodes of agony, pain, and denial ever since his father's demise. He even had bouts where he slipped out of consciousness but he was sure that he never would have gone in there.
Jux hated the library as much as he despised the memories of his six-year-old self sitting outside that door waiting for his father’s time, love, and affection. When he returned home two months ago to visit his ailing father, Jux made sure that the library remained under lock and key.
Jux stood up staggering. He passed the doll as he paced himself to the door of the library. Jux peeked first before letting himself in. Everything was surprisingly in disarray. Books and torn pieces were all over the place, some were barely hanging on to misplaced shelves. It looked like someone had intentionally wrecked the place. The misty smell of old books hit him and more photographic memories flooded his mind in torrents.
Suddenly, soft air blew his ears and he felt compelled to pick up a book on the shelf in front of him. He picked out a title, “Family is Everything.” He sighed. “If only he knew the meaning of the books he read,” Jux whispered. Once he tried to put it back in place, Jux found the doll again sitting on the shelf.
“Okay! What is going on?” he said out loud. He moved closer to examine the doll and just then, she blinked frantically. Horrified, Jux tumbled over an entire shelf behind him and blanked out.
“Are you okay in there?”
“Oh, He is fine. He's had worse days hungover.”
Voices echoed and Jux slowly opened his eyes to the doll standing on his chest. She had big round eyes, a pointed nose, tapering ears, and brown furry skin.
“I am not hungover am I? What kind of doll are you?” Jux raised his head.
“Do you think we can trust him too?”
“If he can see us, we can trust him. Also, he is Mica’s son. You can tell by his voice and those brown eyes.”
Jux turned his head to the tiny whispers coming from the corner of another shelf.
“I am not a doll. I am Maya. That's Ol’Twix and Rabidy. We are storylings.” Maya slid down Jux’s chest and he pulled up to a sitting position.
“You mean like book characters?” Jux squinted in disbelief.
“Nooo!” Rabidy emerged from the corner with furrowed brows. “I mean no disrespect but we aren't creations of man. We appear like mere specks of dust on books to humans but like you, we are as old as time and keepers of knowledge.”
“Think about it like this. Have you ever walked into a library and felt compelled to pick up a book?” Ol’Twix also appeared from the corner. “Well, that's us. We always know you from the heart and we whisper exactly what your heart needs.” He shuffled his long white beard.
“Just like I did with that book.” Maya pointed at the book Jux picked up earlier.
Jux squinted. He was certain that he would never have picked up that book on his own. Family didn't mean anything to him. He had cut ties with his father. Mica had sent Jux countless emails informing him about his failing health but Jux ignored them until two months before his death.
Jux was raised by his father ever since his mother passed when he was only six years old. Both of them became inseparable. They went everywhere together until Mica began spending so much time in his library.
Mica was a collector of old books. He loved knowledge so much that he built a carefully curated library attached to his home. Book lovers from all over often visited the library much more for its aesthetics. If Mica wasn't in his library all through the night, he was on some sort of secret trip he told no one about. Jux started to nurture the feeling of abandonment. The more he tried to get closer to his father, the more distant and covert he became. Jux finally gave up trying and moved out when he was old enough.
Jux became short of words after Maya spoke. He quietly observed the miniatures as though he were watching a scene from a movie. Instinctively, he dodged a book that was targeted straight at his face. It landed on the floor and more books followed.
“There is more of you?” Jux asked as he crawled to the other side of the library.
“That's Wicked Jack and his group of crazy storylings. They've caused so much trouble around but they do not belong here. They come from somewhere up north I guess. That's why you have to help us.” Maya followed Jux and sat with her legs crossed.
“What has that got to do with me?” Jux frowned.
“We know Mica passed. I'm sorry about your loss. He was a good man. He would always tell us about his travels and how much he missed spending time with you. He adored you, son.” Ol’Twix paced slowly as he rested his back on a book. Jux sat uneasily.
“You see, just like every library has its own books, it's got storylings too. Some of us get too attached to some books. And when those books end up in different libraries, it causes an imbalance. It's like an ecosystem.” Ol’Twix gestured to the messed-up library.
“Humans! They borrow, never return, or put things in the wrong places. But not Mica. He would always put things in order.” Rabidy paced up and down impatiently as his ears tapered.
“You’ve got to return the books that do not belong here. That's what Mica did. Sometimes he had to go overseas. That's the only way order can be restored. If they stay here too long, the pages of the books they came with will begin to vanish. That's how knowledge is lost forever.” Maya’s round eyes pleaded.
“Me? No! You've got the wrong guy. I'm sorry I can't do this. I don't even know if this is all real.” Jux stood up and ran to the door. Another book hit the back of his head and he turned to find Jack in a red bandana smirking.
“I told you we couldn't trust him.” Rabidy hissed.
That evening, Jux sat on the recliner pondering. He thought about everything Ol’Twix said about his father and for the first time since his demise, he let himself cry. Jux cried like a baby letting everything out. Despite his anger, he missed his father dearly and he had not been able to move on.
The next morning he walked into the library. Jux caught a book aimed at him again. “Enough Jack. No more messing around. A new sheriff is in town.” Jux put his hands on his waist and looked around Jack and his naughty friends. His eyes fell on Maya and he winked. “Now! I'm going to need all the help around here. Anybody?”
“Yes!” Maya yelled. “I knew you'd come around.” Ol’Twix smiled and Rabidy merely acknowledged Jux.
In the weeks that followed, Jux and the storylings began cleaning up the library one book at a time. In good time, the library was restored to its past glory. Jux was starting to form a bond with the storylings whilst keeping Jack and his crew at bay. Together, they found the exact location of the library where Jack came from.
The day Jux would take his first trip came. “Off you go now.” Jux placed a book in front of Jack and his little crew. They hesitated before jumping into the middle of the open page.
“Come on now.” Jux waited anxiously.
Jack looked at Jux before blowing air bubbles in his face. His friends laughed. With one swish, he and his crew turned into fine specks of dust that landed softly on the page.
Jux closed the book and set it in a briefcase. For the first time, he felt like he was walking in his father's shoes. Jux was starting to understand the hard choices that Mica had to make over the years. So whenever he thought about his father, his heart softened a little more.