Discovery

The library finally received a couple of guests today, consisting of a decrepit couple and a random teenager, wanting to use one of the library's computers. The couple, or more specifically the old man, requested to borrow a book that had to be around his own age, saying that he had been unable to find it in its usual spot. Always the diligent and trustworthy clerk, Alice immediately (it wasn't like she had anything better to do) went in search for the book in an area where they put away the literature that seldom got borrowed or even looked at. Usually the books that were placed here were put on tables near the entrance and sold cheaply after a while, but the ones that lay on the messy shelf today were to be thrown away or possibly saved by some sentimental staff member. The old man's book was there. It was thick with loose pages, and as Alice picked it up something fell out of it and drifted down onto the floor.

At first she thought it had been a couple of pages from the book itself, but the paper was much too small. Picking it up she noticed that it was notes of some sort written, sloppily, by hand and in old Swedish. Though it started abruptly, it wasn't too hard to read, even if it was evident that the person who had written it had been under stress judging by a few misspellings and crossed out words. Why the pages had been tucked into the book Alice didn't know, it was as if someone had wanted her to find them, it was all planned.
The book itself had nothing to do with the pages, as it seemed to be a book about botany. Alice went back to the couple, handing the book to the old man while telling him that he'd been lucky as the book would have been thrown out soon.

[...] om det fanns något så skulle de icke ha återvänt, så det hvar blott en illusion, en vålnad som deras trötta hufvuden, deras stackars sinnen, hade skapat. Hvarför är det då så, att mina och deras dagar ter sig så långa, så fyllda med fruktan, detta på grund af något som ej finnes till?
Men jag känner att jag tvingas skrifva ner detta, därför att det finnes tecken att Han finnes på riktigt. Jag tillkännagifver detta endast för att vi, mig och mannarna, hava haft liknande drömmar – alla unika, bortsett från ett par detaljer, dessa detaljer som får oss att vandra omkring med spända muskler. Han har ett vitt, blankt ansikte, helt utan ögon eller mun eller näsa. Flera meter lång. Mer än två. Tre, fyra, fem... ibland tio. Ibland med fler än två armar, ibland med vad en af männen beskriver som ”tentakler”. Han bär alltid svarta kläder. Men äfven bortom drömmarna har Han visat sig.
Till mig kom Han med en svart cylinder på sitt skalliga hufvud. Jag gick på stigen på väg till byn efter att ha tagit en kort promenad, och där stod Han på toppen utaf kullen. Äfven om Hans ansikte var naket, så kunde jag urskilja att Han tittade ut öfver skogen. Han hade märkt mig, men det tog ett tag innan Han kunde skänka mig en blick (jag har just beskrivit hur Han inte hade några ögon, men hur annars skall jag beskriva det...?), och när Han väl gjorde det hann jag önska att Han hade fortsatt stirra ut öfver skogen då jag föll baklänges medan världen blev svart. Hela tiden hörde jag ett ringande i mina öron.
Tids nog vaknade jag upp i mitt hem. Min morbror hade kommit gåendes på vägen – jag frågade honom aldrig om han hade sett samma man på kullen, han vet ingenting om det här, och jag kommer att hålla han och så många andra som möjligt utanför det här – då han såg mig ligga utslagen på gruset. Han sade att han hade tagit sig en titt på mig, för att se så att jag inte vart skadad, men enligt honom så vart jag frisk som en nötkärna. Jag gav honom en dålig ursäkt, sade att jag hade jobbat för mycket nyligen, och han gick på det.
Men alla har inte lika stor tur som jag. En utav oss har mist sitt lif, två är försvunna. Innan de försvann, så började Erik långsamt förlora sin skrifvförmåga och började istället skrifva ner koder, över allt annat föredrog han att kommunicera via morse. Han skrefv ner koderna eller knackade i vad helst han hade att knacka i. Jag kommer fortfarande ihåg vad han sade en dag då jag satt på uthuset. ”Träden kommer, träden kommer, träd, träd, de kommer, träd kommer.” Han höll på med detta i flera minuter, och jag vart tvungen att skynda mig för att hindra honom från att slå sin näfve blodig mot väggen.
Karl säger mig att koderna är det enda sätt de kan kommunicera på. Jag undrade hvarför, och han sade att de hade blivit galna. Det förstår jag, det förstår vi alla.
Ändock är jag förvirrad.

Tracing Back

The jackdaws gathering outside the library in small, dysfunctional groups stared at the few people who dared go too close to their turf - perhaps they wouldn't have bothered chasing after the humans, who only furrowed their brows while swearing under their breaths or laughing merrily at the stupid birds, if it hadn't been for the fact that they had discovered some long since rotten food in one of the waste bins near the library's entrance. The black orbs surrounded by the bright white would stare at any possible threat, and any normal person would foolishly discard their gazes without much other thought than how "mindless" they seemed. Alice, however, did not think ill of the feathered creatures, and as she strode over to the door they hurriedly made a passage for her without throwing any suspicious glances at her.

To expect the small library to have any sort of guests at this hour - or any hour, really - was foolish, but the atmosphere in there was even more desolate than it had been before. One could sense this merely by feeling the chilly air against one's cheeks, or by listening to the monotonous ticking of one clock. Despite this the library wasn't completely deserted, there was a clerk on the other side of the counter, looking up expectantly when she heard the sound of someone entering the only quiet safe haven that was left in the ever expanding small town. Her smile was radiant but there was a desperation lingering in the corners of her mouth.
"Oh, you're Alice, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"I'm glad you could come! We're happy - well, really, it's only me and one other... but he's going to retire next month, you see. So I'm happy to see you. It's really refreshing to see someone so young take such a strong interest in literature," said the nervous, talkative woman, who could only be about thirty herself, "I wish more would."
There was a short pause that could have grown awkward over time when the clerk took her time to gaze out over the library's empty corridors with melancholia shining in her eyes. But since there was no time for daydreaming she soon came to her senses, talking fast as ever.
"As you know, you're going to be hired for a couple of months, then we'll see whether we'll want to keep you or not," she said with a smile. "To be honest, I don't think there'll be any question about it. There's no competition for you and we need another employee, despite our lack of customers."
Alice seemed to nod to the rhythm of the clock's ticking, not saying anything but mimicking the clerk's smile perfectly. Apparently it was working, as the woman, who had given off the impression of being somewhat tense despite her rapid words and smiling mouth, finally relaxed.

The jackdaws still remained outside, but had now taken their seats on the roof of the building or perched themselves on the branches of the spring trees. Pausing in their squabbles in order to focus on the happenings below them, watching the one girl with their odd eyes as if she was an actor in some well-renowned play, they moved slightly, turning their heads sideways while stretching their black necks in hope to get a better view. The exciting actions that Alice performed was going to the bus stop and waiting a few minutes for the bus to arrive, then stepping onto it and getting a seat towards the front of the oil-smelling bus.