Egolinsky’s Tales

Curled in a small ball atop a polished table was Elizabeth Balga’s good dragon friend. It breathed as though it was afraid of the air.

“Egolinsky!” Elizabeth ran to the tiny dragon, stopping at the edge of the table. “Egolinsky! What’s wrong? Where are your books? Will you not tell me a great story?”

The dragon twisted a smile. “Lean in close, my dear Elizabeth Balga! Come closer, child!”

Elizabeth glanced around. Empty rows of books lined in a fashion, decorated shelves that stretched beyond even the second floor. She climbed up and tossed her sweater under her head. Egolinsky is immortal, immortal like the wind he always said. The girl curled around the dragon.

“Are you not well? I didn’t know that dragons could be ill.” She ran her finger over its head. “I can fix you tea, maybe that will help.”

“Child,”

Elizabeth strained to hear, like she was hearing an echo.

“Child, you must listen to me now, listen as though it is all you want –”

“It is!” She interrupted. “Your stories are my favorites! I want nothing else but to hear more!”

The dragon smiles. “And I have more stories to tell. But, my Elizabeth Balga,” its face turned grim, “only a few stories were written. Only a few — fictitious.” Elizabeth moved closer, almost on top of the small drag. “The stories –?”

“Are real, dear girl. And I must request of you a great favor.”

“Yes, Egolinsky, anything you ask!”

“First, there is a white book in the forbidden room. I am far too weak to retrieve it myself. You must do it for me.”

“The forbidden room?” she asked, “But it always locked.”

“You have tried going in yourself?”

She nodded.

The dragon stirred with old majesty. “You mustn’t ever enter that room unwelcomed, Elizabeth Balga!” But still it stayed still.

“I — I didn’t know. The room has no warning, it is just forbidden. I’m sorry.”

“No matter,” the dragon tucked its wings under itself. “You are welcomed in now. The white book you will easily find leaning on a clock. But remember, dear child, to mind the rules of a library. Do not speak loudly, and whisper only if you must, no matter what you may want.”

Elizabeth only yelled outside the library, and typically only at the town boys. They once tried throwing rocks at her hairless cat, to get her to jump out of her skin they said. She gave them a tongue lashing that her mother would’ve been proud of.

“I can be quiet.”

“Of that I have no doubt. Now go, Elizabeth Balga. Go.”

Elizabeth jumped down from the table, her small shoes tapped against the cold marble floor sa she ran to the staircase. Her legs wanted t carry her faster and faster. Poor Egolinsky! Elizabeth couldn’t think of a time the tiny dragon wasn’t perched on the table, books spread and stacked all around him like a castle. And he was a king with worldly knowledge.

She dropped her book bag when she first laid her eyes on it. The hardcovers dropped and sounded like an avalanche of stone in the silent library.

“I do not bite.” the dragon said, smoke rising from its snout. “But I do not exist as a creature to be gawked at. Do not treat these mountains of books as a safe cage should you trespass on me, then I may bite. Come and state your business or else leave me to my peace.”

Elizabeth paused for a moment, then went to the dragon. It was lounging in the spine of an open book. Small, round spectacles were perched on his long snout reading a tome standing in front of it.

“I didn’t know people could make lenses so small?”

“People, no.”

“You made them yourself? You have a great talent! There’s a burch near my home with smashed stained glass. Some no gooders smashed my favorite mural. Perhaps, Mr. Dragon, you could use your talent?” She found herself at the foot of the table, staring at the dragon surrounded by books.

“Recall the tale of gawking, dear child. You may find yourself a few fingers short of a hand if you reach in.”

She stumbled back, “I’m – I’m sorry, Mr. Dragon.”

“You do not venture into the woods, do you, child?”

“No. My father says I am too young and will get lost, or,” She paused, “My father!” She ran back for her books. But she returned to the dragon with books nestled close.

“A wise elder, to be sure.” The dragon finally said. “He is right. The forest hides many things that would be strange to your eyes — even dangerous to your life.” The slender body of the dragon rose out of the book. It walked on what Elizabeth thought were its hind legs towards her. “Tell me your name, child.”

“I am Elizabeth Balga.” she reached out her hand, then pulled it back. She had never greeted a dragon before.

“Elizabeth Balga. I am Egolinsky.” The dragon unfurled its wing — dwarfing the rest of its body — and shook her hand. “Sit down, Elizabeth Balga. I have a story you won’t find in those books.” Egolinsky motioned to the books she had dropped. Elizabeth raced up the stairs to the forbidden room. Up past the second floor, then the third. Up and up the spiral staircase she went until she stepped off on the seventh floor. No books adorned the walls and chairs were not to be found. Elizabeth remembered the rules of the library: Respect the books. Respect the librarian. Keep a respectable pace about you. Keep your voice low. Keep the books in a books good condition. Of course Elizabeth knew of the other rules. But they were long and difficult to memorize.

The door was a blemish on the empty wall. The only other time Elizabeth Balga tried to enter, she was still dripping from the rain outside. She was working the field, hands deep in the dirt half from work, half from chasing ants, when she heard her mother cry out for her.

“Elizabeth!” her mother yelled. “Elizabeth! Come in, now! You must come home!” She ran down the field calling for her daughter.

“Mother! I’m coming!” She reached down to let the small ant she was carrying scurry back to the colony. “Here I am!”

“Good. Good, Elizabeth. Go back home, I need to fetch your brother, yes? Your father is waiting for you.” Elizabeth had never heard her mother speak like this.

“Yes, mother.”

That night her father held Elizabeth close.

“Where is mother? When is she coming back with Fedor?”

“You must be quiet.” Her father said. “Please. Please be quiet so that your mother may return.” He reminded Elizabeth of how her mother sounded.

“Ok.” The wicks were cool. Through the window she saw lights flickering up from the town. “Father, are you warm? You’re sweating. Come here, I’m cold.”

“No Elizabeth. Please. You must be quiet.”

Through the night she watched the twisting lights die in the soft rain that came. It calmed the fire and lightly danced on their roof as though nervous to perform for a stranger. Her dad seemed like a tree. Tense and older than first appears.

“You must stay here. I need to find your brother and mother.” Her dad finally said once the rain ended its performance. “Elizabeth. You and them are everything. Those fires from the town came from bad men, and they may not be gone, this is a dangerous night for us all.” He took down a chest from above the fireplace and opened it up. Elizabeth had seen the chest for years and never thought to look inside, but the thought now caused her jaw to tighten.

“I’m afraid for my wife and son.” He lifted out an axe. Not like one used to chop timber, no. This one seemed somewhere dangerous, like it was meant to hurt. “Please stay inside. If anyone enters but me, I need you to hide and not say a word, yes? No matter how nice they may seem. Say nothing and stay hidden. I love you, my child.”

Elizabeth curled herself in her chair, and her father left. The empty chest sat on the table in front of her. It was adorned with many words she had difficulty pronouncing and couldn’t make sense of any meaning. Letter combined in ways she didn’t know possible, it was like trying to read for the first time. But her beautiful mother and brother were out there, and those words would bring them back, she was sure. Her father always cut the wood right where he meant to.

After a while the fires were completely finished, dead from the rains released above. Every whistle of wind or rustle of tree made her duck under the ratty table cloth. She didn’t know how many times she ducked from the door, hoping to see her father and dreading anything else, especially silence. She stared again at the chest. Those words, she thought, must mean something. I am a better reader than father. If I can find out, maybe I can help him. The library will know. Every word every written is in there!

The wind howled against the door once again, but Elizabeth did not flinch. She grabbed her coat and backpack and left the empty house. She’ll find the right words for her family.

Through the lonely door on the sixth floor Elizabeth stepped. It seemed a different building altogether inside, maybe even a different land. The walls were bright and dinner table dotted the room like droplets in a lake. Rich clothes draped over them adorned with flowers so real she could smell the roses. Around the tables sat a variety of people. Some sat up far straighter than others who slouched. Some had long blonde hair and others were balder than the oldest man Elizabeth had seen.

“Hello, everyone. I am looking for a book.” she said as a whisper. The diners kept their hollow look. She moved closer to a bald man and tapped his shoulder. “Excuse me, I’m looking for a book.” Nothing.
She continued walking around the scene. If anyone allowed a breath to leave she wouldn’t have noticed. The air was stale, as though it hadn’t known life in ages. She stepped from table to table, empty platters sat in front of the people. The walls lept with murals of heroic acts. Men slaying foul beasts and great beauties in the clutches of beasts.

Along the wall of fantastic painting Elizabeth saw the clock. It was a grandfather clock of elegant design whose pendulum was stuck at the crest of a swing. At the base was a white book leaning carelessly. There’s the book poor Egolinsky wanted. She avoid all the table and frozen people and made her way to the book.

She leaned down and picked it up. The cover felt like the scales of a snake, but a lock on the front kept her from opening the tome. But she studied it. There were words, words like she saw on her father’s chest. Some she recognized more, now that Egolinsky had taught her some. With every visit she learned more, but still not enough to translate this. “Soon, father. I will know enough.” she whispered to herself.

The book was nestled comfortably under her arm, but when she went to leave the room had changed. All the faces that were indifferent now looked right at her, as if she were a bright fire in a dark night. Elizabeth fell back to the wall.

The bald faces twitched their heads to the right, and the faces with the long hair twitched to the right. “Hello.” Elizabeth barely whispered.

“Hello.” One of the faces said lost in the crowd.

“Hello.” she replied. “I am borrowing this book for a dear friend.” she looked around to the murals of battles and stories, darker than before. “I will return it shortly.”

“Oh, please do little girl. It is our only book and we treasure it so.”

“Ok.” She found the door and started towards it, dodging the tables while the people turned their heads to watch her.

“And don’t mind your father, girl. She is safe us with.”

The white book dropped to the ground.

“My father. Which of you said that?” She raisd her voice, still remembering the rules of the library. “Who spoke of my father?”

“Your father left for another family. There’s a girl, right now, bouncing on his knee. She giggles so. You’d like her.”

“No. No. My father is with my mother and sister right this moment. There is no one else.”

“How wrong you are. He loves another family. What’s more, he loves them more. When was last you seen him? More than a night? More than a month, even? Goodness, child. You must know by now. He has a new girl.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes it is” the voice hissed. “It’s true. He has gone. Your mother cries at night. Where are you? Why are you not at home anymore? And your brother? He disappoints your mother to no end. What sadness you bring her. You break your family.”

“STOP IT!” He voice ran through the room, circling around the murals and tables, somehow gaining volume with each passing lap. She threw her hands over her mouth.

“You broke the third rule, girl.”

A concerto of chair scraped against the marble floor. Each lost soul stood in random succession, now looking about the room as if woken from a nightmare. Elizabeth ran for the door and pressed the handle.

She gasped. The book.

The white book was in the middle of the bodies becoming conscious once again. She glanced back at the door opened hardly a hair, then jolted back into the fray.

“Your mother left without saying goodbye. She hates you.”

“You are evil! Be gone!” She shouted, and the bodies once again turned towards her, one arm of each outstretched grasping for her.

Elizabeth darted between the bodies still shaking away rust, clawing out for her like an old oak remembering movement after eons of stillness. “You have killed her father. You were gone when he returned. Everytime he returns, you are gone. It destroys him.”

She reached out on the floor and snatched up the book between countless legs. “No. No no no.” She said to herself. The bodies continued to move away from her.

“You ran too far away for your mother to get you back in time. You failed her. You killed her.” The arms reached out for an old target.

Elizabeth remained still. “I am not to blame” she said again to herself. No arms reached down for her. She gathered the white book and circumvented the people walking aimlessly about the room. With her hand safely on the handle, she turned to the bodies. “I will find them.” she said, “And I WILL BRING THEM BACK!”

The bodies hissed and moaned, throwing themselves towards the door far too fast for any natural movement. She was paralyzed in fear as they raced towards her, but the fresh air of the library beckoned and she quickly stepped through, slamming the door behind. The door pounded once, twice, with the hammer of flesh hitting an old. It echoed through the library and faded.

Elizabeth backed away from the door. The book close to her chest.

“You retrieved the white book?” The dragon said when she returned. “You followed the rules of the library, yes?”

“I — I have the book for you. Can you be well, now?”

“You did not follow the rules?” The dragon curled tighter into a ball, then released like a heartbeat. “No matter.” It smiled. “You have retrieved the white book. I am much closer to health.”

“Closer? You are not yet well?”

“No!” it said, “No, my child. I have yet another favor. One that will see me return to full health, I can promise you.”