Mr. Linden’s Library

Mr. Linden’s Library*

He had warned her about the book. Now it was too late… Mr. Linden was cryptic with his message It made the apprentice Want to try to impress her mentor She, safeguarded with the library as his successor He shook his head solemnly when she chose to take her test in training, third year, always wanting more more more through common courtesy she wouldn’t be denied Linden had handed her the Pandora’s box As if he was giving her a ticket to Charon’s canal ride His weary face paled. Mr. Linden began to cry. She took the thick, dusty book in her hands, remembering the price If it was not perfectly precise her enchantment would fail Certain mythical beings condemned To an eternity of punishment would escape, Reshape the world Strike of 12 Her hands danced with magic, plucking chords in air Her, the magician, her the musician Glowing symbols appearing from nowhere Earth Air Water Fire Now engraved in Violent violet ink Pen running a race against the fatal book’s page by her talent. Lights dimmed A different mood catches the harpist’s air Tune of death hums in her mind Worrying about mortality Leads to fatality Before she could catch her breath, Pages bled green and Mr. Linden was freed

Book shot open atop her hand Spewing sprouts at binding CLANG Pen had tendrils of linden leaves Wrapped around Forcing it down Pen fell As if in a blacksmith cell, fire symbol burned jack-o-lantern orange She hesitated, fingers frozen in time, spelled All her work, the magic undone Tried to run but Paralysis chilled her bones Snakes of linden slithered across her arm Gave the squeeze of eternal slumber Sleeping Beauty on her deathbed The mentor’s second half Laughed with minions Perceived as the linden leaves He had warned her about the book. Now it was too late—for her. For Mr. Linden, a fight against himself No calling for help from someone else To whom he withheld the wealth Of knowing his dark half Was trapped In that fatal book.

Neeve Olson *Inspired by the art of Chris Van Allsburg